A presence
presenting
a continuous torment
torturing
incessantly
until, even with cessation
only a tenuous self
is present
leaving only the resin

The maniacal
manifestation
is an infestation
festering around in my head
Its existence,
a creation
created at inception,
hacking my brain
Forever a trap
creating a
maniac

Acrimonious
to all mankind
Not acting
like a man
Not one word
that's kind
Committing crimes
and getting oneself
committed
A deviation
creating a deviant
Shifted values
due to a devalued
self

An esoteric
essence
seemingly sentenced
on this journey
by judge and jury,
not by one's peers
because the many
not able
to peer
into this individuality
The duplicity
of duality
that is my reality

Challenging myself
to a dual
One in which
I both
win and lose
But in the end
not breaking even
or coming out ahead
Always ending
further back
instead

Its back breaking
and always aching
Pain from which
not capable of
faking
Effort I’m taking
Of myself making
Time for a new king
For kinsmanship
is aloof
And this man’s ship
has sailed away
Sipping a port
at a shipping port
And yet
slipping away

Deeper still
In the depth
of still water
Sinking
into the abyss
Lost and gone
But not missed
Is this the end
of our fable?
Or will our “hero”
enable himself
and in the end
be able
Deciding who to be?
Cain or Abel?
For the hurricane
is hurrying along
Its aim always the same
Constant pain
A payment he feels
for the displaced
placement
which just in case
is placed
same place
he went

Ink in the face
A disgrace
When suddenly
encased in his brain
are racing thoughts
of a plan
he’s ace’n

A label of insanity
given by those
who claim sanity
when the reality
is their thoughts are free
and optimize
a sanitized
and homogenized
batter
And in the end
it doesn’t matter

Offering suggestions
in which they
feel threatened
Pathways congested
and protested
Testing them
Even worse,
bested
A problem beset
upon them
Time to steady
the flock
Roll n’ Rock
Inoculations we’re getting
Start the injections

“It’s been an honor”
Mounting my Lipizzaner
A disarmer
A charmer
The armor
‘mi amor’
Leaving me
wanting more
But as they keep score
the task is daunting
A life that’s haunting
with such splendid decor
-
Yet, can’t take any more
Their taunting
is leaving me sore
So to the atmosphere
I open that door
and flying up above
I soar

Forever more
Feel pain no more...

He only imbibes because of his dipsomania.
She only practices onanism because she's afraid he'll impregnate her.
He despises her monomania.
She's too affable, almost to the point of being obsequious.
He's too acrimonious and muzzy.
She knows she's a bit of a coquette.
He thinks he's a cuckold.
She used to be flighty until she fell into this convoluted dystopia.
He used to find it scintillating to get sozzled.
She just wants a lark once in a while.
His iniquity makes him want her to be lascivious.
Her every fatuity leads to a cabal.
He's too opaque and insipid.
She has to iterate and reiterate everything she says.
He feels his infatuation is unrequited.
She finds this unproblematic.
He doesn't imbue her with anything anymore.
She thinks he's unpitying of that.
He'll malinger tomorrow.
She'll wonder if it's all adventitious or kismet.
She can't handle his odium.
He can't stand her ten dollar words.

Tenebrous pastel diamond steps,
wielded in a sterile estate.
legates of bequeathed curiosity, boil Olifant eyes in a cake of mesmeric petroleum chances, wry in compound sleep dust.
Abtruse hands in acrimonious cackle, rights of primogeniture, consume reptilian hearts.

Wobbly,  rib cages gesture j'accuse
Ownership, Mannhattan.
By the mercy a phosphorescent syntax, enticed by Creation,
exorciso false prophets, irreconsilable versions of Source.

Vindictive and spiteful
your pride is your drive
You push and you pull
your desires derive

Resentful, obtuse
blame your existence
always an excuse
for all you diminish

I wanted to save
not try to fix
but you never forgave
you wallow in ****

I waded therewith
for far way too long
any way I shift
you'll point out as wrong

Had my problems too
although you never knew
because I don't lack the empathy
to push them on you.

In a sphere of infinite narcissism



Wicked homosapiens tread the horizon



Daunting threats of turbulent tragedy



Dawn upon the hopeless, roaming souls



Sheathing them with treacherous shadows



Of atrociously, covert crucifixion



The elite coquettes hearken



The tumultous sound



Emanating from multiple, acrid massacres



Tainting these notably wounded hearts



Within a satanic plethora



Of acrimonious equivocation



By nightfall a harrowing suicide



By daybreak a dreary mourning



Catastrophe is all that occupies



This infamous wasteland of avarice



By Glenn McCrary



© 2011 (All rights reserved)

An acolyte of White Chapel, I walk the streets at night,

I strut the dark to feed my lust, my mildly selfish plight.

Don’t mistake me for insane, my demonic thoughts are clear,

Come to me my little *****, I show you why I’m revered.

-

I walk behind, step by step,

As I stalk my little coquette

she leaves the brothel, all dressed up,

Awaiting young gentleman to sup,

I’ve chosen this one for my knife,

It calmly grins to end her life.

-

Her caller leaves with no tip to spare,

Her saddened face hidden by her hair,

I follow her back until an alley,

The hatred then shall take my lead.

-

Twenty feet there from the door,

I felt her heart drop to the floor,

As I choked the breath out of her lungs,

I saw the sadness from being so close to home.

-

Upon my shoulder, I take her back

To the venue of my attack

I sneak through the darkest paths,

Until my home, we reach at last.

-

And at this part in my confession

I warn of the graphic, due to depression.

-

Upon my medical table she lay,

My scalpel awaits the ****** flay,

A little anesthetic, here and there,

Keeps her awake but still and fair.

-

She cannot scream but her eyes do widen

Though to be fair, my form does frighten,

When I lay my other instruments out,

Of leaving alive, I see her doubt.

-

“To business then my dear, my dear.”

Out of one eye, I spy a tear.

-

Because of paralysis I need no restraints,

She remains still, her heart remains faint,

I start with the kneecaps, just in case,

She breaks free of the spell, so I needn’t chase.

-

I place them upon my “excess” table

And then her legs I begin to cradle,

I take then every one of her toes,

And place them in a neat little row.

-

I take my time stemming the blood,

So death doesn’t come misunderstood,

Also that she may not pass out,

She remains conscious and without clout.

-

“My Sweet,

I cherish the sorrow I see in you eyes,

I enshrine the abhorrence of love I’ve revised,

acrimonious am I, animosity guides me,

I’ll **** everything you’ve ever believed.”

-

I move up onto her thighs,

Upon the blade, the sanguine does shine,

I split each side to sew again,

Except the muscle taken from within.

-

I stitch her fingers there together,

I rip out the nails to put on a tether,

Her arms have no concern to me,

Lest I graze an artery.

-

And  my favourite, the chest cavity,

I’ll make it a shrine to my depravity

Now is the point where time is a factor,

As I do this, she will die faster.

-

I hammer away with the sternum-splitter,

It cracks and cracks, her heart does flutter,

I eagle the ribcage as she stares in horror,

The sound of my laughter begins to adore her.

-

Her organs gaze up at me in fright,

I begin extracting in delight,

She looks up, looks for her God,

But he is absent, he is a fraud.

-

I witness the beating grow faster,

She is in shock, this could be disaster,

A little more solution for the pain,

But just enough so that she remains.

-

I slowly take a needle and puncture the left lung

Her other grows violent when its marriage is undone,

I extract her spleen and then,

Her heart does pump, her blood thickens.

-

Involuntary muscles in her lips tighten,

I barely catch it with her lips stitched in,

Her eyes, how they wonder everywhere,

Searching for some thing somewhere.

-

I see in them, she questions me,

‘Why have you forsaken me?’

Darling, I think that is not the question

I did this of my own suggestion,

-

You may ask why I left her womanhood alone,

Her ******* and ***** no violence shown,

To that, I answer you now and simply,

Frivolous things such as *** do not concern me.

-

You may ask why and where she may be found,

But you won’t find her, though don’t let that cloud

Your idea of me or what lies inside,

Don’t worry however, I allowed her to die,

After I had taken her precious heart,

She likely could’ve lived half a minute to start,

But at about second “fifteen”,

I cut her throat ever so gently,

She gurgled so quietly, ever somber,

I’m sure she would’ve thanked me regardless,

But in the end I don’t feel I’ve robbed a father,

After all, what father has a ***** of a daughter?

-

You will never catch me, I have no motive,

Other than sport, and a mind supported,

With thoughts of these wretched street walkers,

May they all be mindful they’ve gained a stalker,

Perhaps one day you may of me learn,

A clean city and plain interest, is all I yearn.

The ambrosial ending
of the day. I was not sure
of myself. How would the
thumb mould the pen
in internal search
of cavities?

You are not going to live
hundred years. Falling from
the terrace, with a thud,
lying in the pool of blood, till you
find the celibate truth?

Between the dust and dawn
lies the dark. The oesophageal
reflux makes a hole
in each eye. Can you
read in the thick fog
of absent faces?

Full of acrimonious but always exquisitely reconcile with love
Anger for addle our love and apologies for rebuilt it back
Smiling face looking together ample for adore each other
Just as others desire for it, I have my love brings jubilant for me.. 

1
Bark, say, those who probed its meaning deep,
is a complete dog language;
but many others argue against;
say, this idea itself is nonsense.

when you hear the bark of a dog remember, meaning is not the same every time,
either happy or sad is every bark!
some could well be shouts of protest.

breaking the ruminating silence of the young night
in to hundred tiny pieces,
a dog, count him a vanguard, barks,
over and over again, like he/she is possessed.

sounds like a long pending complaint,
to the heartless master,
insistence on not restricting the rights

"Let me be off
from this leash
for a while"
a dog's days are painfully  long,
but even meager demands, mercilessly neglected.
that's a dog's life perfect!

the love showered on occasions,
and care taken, excessively at times, come with riders.

2
Now two dogs, with throaty barks,
compete to outbark each other-
(...to settle an acrimonious dispute,
going on for how long,
who knows!)

'kind souls, at your dinner tables,
please intervene,
even dogs deserve their peace'
the bark goes tapering in to the night..

3
A woofing predator- like dog,
with a bark that easily could startle, any heart,
suddenly falls silent,
like all his engines have failed!
what ever has happened, one can't guess!

4
A sleeping dog
(his barks suggest that)
breaks the lull again,
barking harshly at a dream,
that threatens ,(perhaps)
a sudden bark, like a bullet,
catches the opponent unawares and hit.
(the foe, howled aloud,
till the moment falling dead,
one imagines!)

5
The bylanes are now littered
with, many kinds of barks,
mutilated, dissolved,
vanished, floating in the air,
quickly  forgotten, as it's harsh;
swiftly passing dark night,
with the help of sweeping  winds
collects and packs,
all barks
in to a bag of silence
and walks on quick.

6
Top dogs do not belong to this club,
they are always noted for their
braided silence;
none ever hear their barking sound,
--such a secret, not even a growl!
they are known for their bites,
each one  is different.
                  OOO

They say 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'
Had 'they' made lemonade before,
'they' would know just how much sugar is required to do so,
and life rarely throws that at us.
Even if it did, it would be hard to pick up, what with it being dissolved in residual lemon juice and all that.
But that's beside the point.

She stands there being
pummelled
with
lemons.
Not even sour-faced
although the acidity erodes her open wounds.

I ask 'does it not burn?'
She replies 'just tingles like a lemony sun'
and then smiles that crescent silver lining
which tames the acrimonious bite that makes me wince.

Little lemon pip tears drop from my eyes
and she collects them in her palms.
'Just a yellow lemon tree,' she sings in her zestful tone.

She may not be the type to catch, juggle and juice them,
but if she could,
she would be the sugar in her lemonade.

From the Swirl comes the Structure,
In the Structure feeds the Flow
and the Flow maintains the Focus.

So we can deduce
much like the pattern of life,
it begins as Freedom,
like colorful movement
exempt from rule.
While the other extreme,
the skill obtained of Focus & Form,
akin to miraculous mystery
wise sensuality
from royalty born.

Can you see the Procession
in difference yet alike?
Infancy is always Free
from Wisdom comes Sight
the Master of Vision
Magical Majesty
 ~Immaculate Precision.
 ~A Rainbow in the Light.

Deep unto the dreamy wood
Walk We, one Faerie to ‘nother
Swift~ Shift
Slighted plea
what cares of Noumenic Clemency
divide amongst they~
who do not know or care to see
forever to possess perverse tales
to talk away the mystery.
Swift ~ Shift
acrimonious possession
Sudden urgency
Cares Not~
Divide amongst Noumenic Novelty.

Coming birth of Elementals
entrancing ingenuity
foreseen such heavenly conception.
Ironic irreverence of Elements
pure Majesty
Still in Expectance of
blessed Faerie’s redemption
They ~ who do not care
will never know and ought never see.

This is about Strife.
The way one Group tends always to find flaw with another Group, finding all the differences to hate, ignoring any similarities to love.

I want to be under a
Sienna sky - some burnt-umber
Monstrosity, devoid of clouds,
Still and still moving over the
Acrimonious skyline of
Molten orange windows and
Hot dry concrete. I want the
Silent sound of the subway under
My feet, the rattle and shake -
The bass drum beat. I want a
Hundred saggy women and lean men
Shaking their fists at soda cans
To walk by me. Someone I can
Help, someone I understand;

What a terribly needy creature
Is man! How can the planet
Withstand it, this desire for
Windows of fire and walls of burnt umber?
How can it not shatter for want
Of sienna skies?

all hyped up
on a pedestal
(how do I get down?)
forget me baby...
         I'm no good.

everyone clamoring, crawling
desperate for my attention
         a whiff as I pass by
the breath before the kiss
slow releases of poison
permeating their being
i am essence of delusion
         acrimonious bedevilment
rolled over their temples
seeping into their veins
eating away at their cells
like a virus replicating and destroying
inducing mutations with a smirk
no containment
and to which there is no antidote
passing from one victim to the next
nonchalant and ruthless
on the prowl, half sleep
squashing beneath me
egos, hearts, lives.

next?
as I said -
forget me -
there is no love.

We are the coffee stains on waiting tables
That lie unattended in cafes
Of our own making
We are the imprints
Of a life lived haphazardly
Without any patterns to follow
We are…and are nothing more

Each day I immerse myself
In the torrent of a New York Sidewalk
Knowing that  Life and death
Have never been closer
Than at this very moment
Each day I see people
Living lives of quiet desperation
Caged in suits of blue and black
Bought for 250 dollars
At  Saks fifth avenue
Without looking at price tags
Because who argues
About the price of a straitjacket

I leave the crowds and walk down further
On a street that seems empty and yet full
There is a tree standing at the corner
Of two numbered avenues that
Are different ,yet the same
In the nightmarish way
That only cities can hope to achieve
It looks anaemic and withdrawn
Gnarled beyond recognition
Unnoticed , except by dogs
And posters for lost dogs
That offer paper rewards
For a live beating heart
It seems to cry, tearlessly
Soundlessly
At each nail that tears through its skin
Trying to find its pulse point
And silence it for good

There are brownstones lining
The street that I turn into
Brick mansions that should
In their ridges hold
Stories of wealth and  joy
That surely follow
All green paper trails
But instead, house
(Like exotic museum specimens )
Cheating fathers and acrimonious mothers
Drugged out sons and prostitutional daughters
All by products of a generation that measures
***** into its morning cornflakes
And keeps itself alive
On a steady diet of Adderall


I come to the end of the street
And watch as the sun sinks down
Over a dead end world
Wondering if the night will hide
Or reveal all that lies hidden
Wondering if remembering
Buries or resurrects …
Or whether we are all graves
Postmarked optimistically “To Heaven “

We received waves through our minds, a connection we didn’t understand.
Agreement
Agreement.
                  Still we equal two mysteries to each other
The ******* of our minds leaves our bodies with warmth
that others seek in the physical world
                                  Confused qualities clean the relationship
  they accredit us as perfect
                                                                                            this fine
                                                                                            perfect view leaves me addled.
                                              His body leaves me lonely
                                                       Hopeless
                                                   Acrimonious
My heart is left in a warm flood                              I don’t want to move.

It's hard not to get angry
At the cricket in the closet
During repeated ratatats
Of the rain on the roof.
Relying on the radiator
Ramboing the reluctance
Resident in the rafters.
Warm winter wishes
For a will of the wisp winter
Waken to wisdom
Rather than rash reminiscence
And rootless resentment.

Bountiful blankets build
A buffer and bulwark
Against my acrimonious
Admonitions assailing
The ghastly gods of nature,
That get together and muster
A team of terrifying titans
That have twisted spring
Into a frozen thing
To, like last year, once again
Punish the thin-skinned.

I won’t leave my toes out,
My piggy toes or my snout
Where a breeze can tease
Or threaten to freeze
From nails to knees.
Oh, please. This one night
Do it right, heed my plight;
Some unspoken vow to keep,
To let a chilly soul sleep
Else I shall weep
In a winter this deep.

"TRUTH"

Truth is acrimonious while deceit is honey
as getting p*y. But a sage cherished reality.
And fool falls by his folly. Foolery kills the scuffer
but prudence makes a wise discovery.
#c9_fm