"arachnids" poems
I hate things that creep, crawl, slither, and sting. But of all these, I hate spiders the most. Why? Because they’re just all … they’re all YUCK! That’s why.
Spiders are one of the worst kinds of insects (arachnids but whatever) because they are the only kind that purposely tries to **** with you. See, unlike ants, or caterpillars, or even nasty-old silverfish, spiders don’t care whether or not you know they’re there. These monsters don’t bother to hide from you. Nah, they’re all like, “I know you see me motha’ ***** and I know you ain’t gonna do nothin’ ‘bout it ‘cause you know I’ma just go **** and end up in yo shirt!”
One of the most common things that people who aren’t afraid of spiders say is this: “Kevin, you shouldn’t **** spiders.”
Me: “Why not?”
Them: “Because they eat other bugs.”
I think what people don’t realize is that … I don’t care! So what if spiders eat other bugs? I’d rather have the other bugs than have those god-awful things creeping around my house. Whenever someone reminds me that spiders eat other bugs, I honestly wish I had the power to communicate with insects, because as far as I’m concerned we have a common enemy. I would join forces with the flies and ants or whatever to **** every single spider in my house. Then I would betray my new friends and **** them too. Case solved.
But, as I think about it, it’s not just spiders that people tell me not to **** because they “eat other bugs.” Now that I think about it, every single thing that “eats other bugs” is also ten times more ******* scary than the things they’re supposed to be killing.
Have you guys ever seen a “house spider” sometimes called a “house centipede"? If not, google it right now. That’s the kinda’ thing people tell you not to **** because it eats the other bugs. But just looking at its picture I’m like “holy **** I’ll take a few mosquitoes over that **** any day!”
See, what people don’t realize is that I don’t hate spiders just for the sake of hating them. I hate them because when I see one I want to burn my house down and have it rebuilt from scratch. If I fail to **** a spider and the thing runs off, I will not sleep until my target has been apprehended and killed. I will literally sit near the spot it disappeared to with a flashlight and a can of windex until it returns to face its crime of entering my room.
O.o yep.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
Caught in a web made of thread spun from criticism and regret,
arachnids leisurely devouring skin from exposed bone,
a life made from those who have chided every step,
no escaping the entanglement,
no shelter from the ones who are meant to render love,
instead only malice is displayed over actions they refuse to forget.
Searching hopelessly for love on abandoned webs,
finding only others broken who were lost in translation,
the foul scent of decaying bodies ripped apart,
giving their lives to those who broke them down,
rotting skeletons of memories shattered on cobwebs undusted,
coming alive and putting faith in others broken who can be trusted.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
rows of two!-three!-four!-boys-bloc-king-the-cor-rid-or
will soon be gone
and the RHYTH-mic-tick-tock-of-my-leg-BOUN-cing-on-the-floor
will be no more
it's fresh cadavers wrapped in string
it is a joyful gospel hymn
mourning the best and worst of youth
(those shiny kids who'd first walked in
with all the grace and all the poise
of hatched arachnids missing limbs)
but what of "her" – you know her name –
that overfed, reptilian thing
who shed her hair and scratched her skin,
cursing the odds at Him upstairs, demanding He re-shape her?
some say she cried herself into extinction
– sailed away on a crimson tide –
balking at the trauma of being seen
(enforced, cursed vulnerability
in being known to man).
the rest knew better;
they were voyeurs in this
fruit-carving tutorial
on 'how to grow up':
STEP 1) consider all other alternatives
2) take the scalpel and initiative
3) before adrenaline gives way to doubt,
turn the flesh-vessel inside out in a cocoon of your own creation!
while organs may rupture and it aches like you've skinned yourself alive (good for her, setting herself free!) you'll look cuter in the class photos and has you-know-who... finally... shifted the weight?
4) breathe through the blood loss and searing pain
5) notice
you
can
breathe again.
at this point, does it matter that it aches?
May 10, 2019
May 10, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
As it trickles down my heart,
I recognize you, a prime type of an Arachne,
How you roll your eyes, look down on me
All while it slowly drips onto the floor
As I frantically try to escape from the spun lines
Try to fight the inevitabilty of time,
Look around to try to sow the pieces
You see me as a rare being, a rare God
And like Petrichor my blood pools beneath me
you watch while I try to slip between threads
watch while I make the bleeding worse
Trip on my own mistakes and choices
As I get stuck in the spiderweb of Fate,
You prowl and see my heart deteriorate
See the Petrichor beneath me on the floor
I see you for what you are
And as I fail to get out of your spun lies and deceit
You advance and your poison is in my veins
Spills out through my wounded heart
And you?
You eat me just the same.
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 5:31 AM UTC
I'm entranced,
your hair gleaming like copper
in the summer sun.
(I could swear you never
looked so good)
your laugh is floating on the wind, like
infant arachnids with silk parachutes.
(I could swear nothing ever
sounded so lovely)
your freckled shoulder is exposed to the world,
dappled and ***flawless
(Atlas himself had not
shoulders so strong)
(I could swear I was
in love with you)
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
Arachnids, Spiders, Creepy Crawlies
Bite, Bite Venoms, Fast Pulse
Fear, Agony, Spinning Web
Eight Glassy Black Eyes
Evil Creature, Monstrous Insect
Crush, Squash, No Guilt
Evil, Horror, Bad Thing
**** Them, Destroy, Fear
Shining Silver Thread
Created From Nothing
Spun Around A Post
Horribly Sticky
Horror In My Eyes
Fear And Panic
Death To The Arachnids
Bad Spider, Fear.
Arachnaphobia
Horrible, Heart Stopping
Sweaty Palms, Panicked Scream
Spiders, Fear, Arachnids
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 10:38 PM UTC
Turtles are amazing beings not
because they strut like a conqueror of fruits and
small arachnids and
wisdom
but
because I look at them and see a beast that, maybe, once, held itself with great wings
and breathed fire on mankind.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
Farewell, no—
Not a crow,—
But a lapse of lightning,
Flashes in films— with rocks thrown on a brim—
Creating verges on waters,
As it expands,— a mirror was formed
But shrubs are sobbing,— As the fog meddles with the river— So blinding; Then the mirror disappears
When droplets keep dripping,—
I could not see anymore..
"Find me..find me.."
Who are you?— "Find me.."
Are you a wolf from another pack?—"find me.."— Were you buried? — A breath? Or only pieces?— "find me.."
To be revived below the tree is a befuddling been..
"Find me.."
Somewhere, you are;
Somewhere, you will be—
I will find you..
In the misty voids, I followed you— and submerged to your world
The assuage of none,— oh, 'tis an eerie coldness—
Of belabouring sorrows and haunted dreams
The maze of narration leads to this path—
Summons the whispers of bushes that kept breathing and moving..—
Closer and closer..
In the silence— I sneak;
Someone screams,
(AAAAAAAHHHH!!!)
—Run and run; Never look back— For shadows are treacherous trolls,— Seducing temples—
Enshroud the wilderness to frighten the all grown..
—"I shall call you once more."
Suddenly, I tripped to the quarry
Serpents hissing; The Arachnids are stalking—
"Where is my fire?!"— I rattled to tend
One foot back— Murmurs chanting rituals to this goose
Spill embers! Spill embers!
Fiery torches cast my foes!
Now, I could escape.
No!— The ravens,
I shall not be abducted
Hastily, I blew my feet—To leap in sleek,— As to surpass the endless drear—
I am not a kin to your lair..
—
Hence, I was a fool
Befallen is me,—
When I stepped to the end side of knoll
This rebel is a victim of sheer torn scheme
Help me..
I need to find you..
Help me.. Please, help me..
Please..
A nowhere eagle swooped me from my lore
Bounce away from this pity storm,—
And let these wings fly to the morn
The lenient Stratus Clouds— Bolstering my spirit— Up here, there are no hostiles and skulls
That it declared to me, as well,— "Away from your madness— Perpetrators are attracted by insane vigor. Cease grubbling illusions!
You must seek to believe that it is there, and not unknown."
I conformed to my Savior.
"Find me..find me.."
It was more vivid and louder..
The glimpse of gables, I see now— with a Cross at its top
"My eagle, nest me here"
—"You are here..Enter within."
(GASPS)
Where am I?— I remember there were smoke and mounds;— Above me were clouds..
Wait, why are you smiling?
I shall pant— for I am petrified by all those obscured hollows,— Quite absurd?— Shake me instead
Now I ask you,—
"Who are you?"
—You found Me!—
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 3:10 AM UTC
Weaving through a path of dusted rocks and invisible insects
The moonlit earth gleams bright enough for wilting branches to reveal the complex webs of arachnids' homes
Beads of pearlescent rain get lost in translation with tears and streams alike
Skipping monochromatic pebbles and identifying the illustrious ripples that their smooth bodies create
Flightless creatures sit perched on exposed logs, waiting for a chance to reach clouds that taunt them with messages of rain
Stomping elk cause blankets of terra firma to wrap around the approaching claws of wolves
And a distant yelp serves as another's song
The forest at night, an elaborate portrait
Each whipping stroke, a new memory evoked
And this one becomes cast astray with the rest
Lost in translation with tears and streams alike...
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
Our brave new world has turned remarkably cold
There is no place for inefficiency among the looming towers
Religions have been replaced with the worship of screens
Charms have been supplanted by tungsten and lithium
One by one, metropolises fell to “necessary” modernization
I consider a certain member of these abaddons as my unfortunate home
The city’s structures stand like monoliths, without luster or familiar name
A place surely dredged from the deepest hell of mankind’s achievements
Mechanical arachnids skitter across streets on continuous patrol
their silver claws and whirring sensors passively click and scan
We’ve no longer needed any member of sentient life to protect us
Apparently, that was a task more suited for our heartless creations
Any soul residing in the world has become artificial
emotions, dreams, and identities discarded and digitized
Former humans are now composed of more metal than meat
They tread with measured steps and a uniform lack of expression
I breathe the heavy clots of air through my visor and flip a few pages
Long ago, this ancient relic came to my unsuspecting attention
It held secrets of organisms that ran rampantly among landscapes
Old Terra’s fertility sprang out from yellowed paper
There is one creature that I found especially endearing
It endured the harshest of the world's conditions, as I do in mine
It was the deadliest of its kind, as I am among peers
I bestowed my home with the creature’s striking moniker
Now and forever, I live in the city of Taipan
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
Destiny swims in an ocean of doom
Tossed upon the waves
Monsters guarding ancient tombs
Phantoms stalk their graves
Serpents and arachnids roam
Beasts keep human slaves
In ruins of the olden world
To the outer realms of space
So you travel through space and time
But at the end of the road you'll find
Your fate is the same as mine
And one day we all will die
Your portal will show you the truth
Of how the Mighty are Doomed
In the depths of the underground
And the bottom of the sea
There are secrets hidden from the world
No one must ever see
When giant creatures ruled the land
To days still yet to be
This earth may never understand
The power within thee
So you travel through space and time
But at the end of the road you'll find
Your fate is the same as mine
And one day we all will die
Your portal will show you the truth
Of how the Mighty are Doomed
The horrors lurking in the dark
A menace worldwide
The prophet and the guardian
Are always at your side
Infernal forces hunt for you
Alive for your demise
Across the earth and in the water
To the winds up in the sky
The Prophecy foretold
Of the arrival of a Mighty One
A warrior of maximum potential
Your Destiny is old
Ancient as time itself
Your mission is harsh and eternal
Curses linger through the ages of man
Death is eager to meet us
Myths and legends of far away lands
Hunt to **** and eat us
Science and sorcery of death
Rally to defeat us
But we survive no matter the odds
The universe still needs us
So you travel through space and time
But at the end of the road you'll find
Your fate is the same as mine
And one day we all will die
Your portal will show you the truth
Of how the Mighty are Doomed
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
I am
the end of the world, falling from the edge of a cliff.
The captain of a sinking ship
I am
Woeful cynicism
Smitten
of your ghosts and visions
I am
A prisoner of the flesh, in the fishing nets of contempt
I am
Consumed by the lust of distrusting ***** giving two ***** against their word
I am
The blur, in the rear view
when nothing is near you
but a hisssss
from the silence
of the radio hating you
I am
******
But reserved and undeserving
Shaking my fist
Scurrying for scalpels in the subtle tactics of arachnids
Slicing the webbing upon the antics of the tragically romantic
Heavy static
Attracts the stasis of all the places, loathingly desired in the wish for death
Always admired the tried and true, even desired to fly the coup and maybe **** a flock or two, as i too, could be you with my blood on the floor
Loved and adored only after ever more, in the after life of a burned out light
I Mock
The empathic stalking of my superiors in their inferior fandangos of foolish angles, strangling the dangled meat made from the proteges of kings
Meandering the wingless cities in piecful paradise
Locked
In the blaspheme of loose rings from the corpses of dope fiends
I am
Not
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
I want to be the last bough bending by a brook as a dozen on-lookers overstate the understood in a field of frantic fever-fighters fixated on the moon. Stop, drop, break a neck, then lay in bed and recollect the days before the disconnect when you kept your bright eyes side-lined in complexified complacency while the golden winged effigy decayed into degen'racy. Multi-state probes propelled by a whim skitter like arachnids on the surface of your skin with words like a finger pointing at the sun that stop making sense before their job lies done. Who now will step down celestially with alchemical agility just to let The Spirit flow through them with exponential intensity as imaginal orthogonality skips with divinity? When'll be best to choose to confuse and diffuse every up-tight, no-sight tool on the loose then flak shrapnel to the castle as a billion petty hassles gathered up and coalesced as interrupted innocence? 'Til then these strides keep pace with the center of the storm, just inside the whirling swarm of wailing souls abandoned and forlorn.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:13 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
Encrusted ballasts flicker
over processed lines
and those predatory octogons
Follow you
with its clicking clicking clicking
mandible clocks
count is rhythm
fluorescently
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 10:23 AM 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
belle, your skin wanders
for that's why the red yarn runs
not by your own hands
but by the gravel of its bare feet
belle, your head floats
pulled astray by arachnids
you know not why the web lines
your fingers— only that it does
belle, your neck aches
with the burden of a black cat
the wounds belong to him, not you
not you not you not you
belle, your eyes linger
seven lukewarm minutes
and a misaligned tussock boot
feed your grave
belle, your feet sway
catching baby's breath
from a newborn curtain
close
belle—
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 3:04 PM UTC
Dew-covered spiderweb glistening during dusk,
faint rays of sunlight escaping through intricate threads,
sparkling drops, liquid beauty, attract the curious like of friendly-flies,
all too eager, peering with fascination upon you,
listening in silence to a whispering traveling from shadows,
voice soft as a moth's wing, drifting through popped ears;
Only butterflies can hear the music of it all.
Some back away, cries of terror, misunderstanding,
others pluck at strings, strike matches, let stray thorns loose,
tearing down pattern by pattern,
oblivious to solitary facts, the true nature of arachnids;
If your web gets torn, you build again.
Such powerful strength from will alone,
continuing to do what others refuse to or cannot,
stitching wounds one by one with nimble limbs,
every move a graceful dance, every gesture a serenade,
it is no wonder they cannot help but fall into lovely illusions,
perhaps they untidy them, disorganize pictures;
Though you cannot blame spiders for building,
only the foolishness of flies who get stuck,
walking into the parlor.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
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
Hope for more
Than individuality
Amongst the throng
Of arachnids
To be the organism
And know what meaning means
Power and fame
Provide the human ego
With fleeting satisfaction
Love is a connection
Outside ourselves
If real
Not man evolved lust
Energy between us is palpable
Passion amplifies
Yet we are all lonely
And yearning souls
Trapped in a shell of life
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
-x-
You heard the man
He was telling a lie
But it felt harmless;
so you had let it fly
Into the web
of nameless, faceless arachnids
who chewed it up
and spewed out in typeset
With no recourse,
it spread across the threads
As they kept on spinning
their yarn of hate
It grew with ancient tales
of temples broken, villages burned
And threats of history repeating itself
unless all debate was adjourned
Till a house of cards it was no more -
but a fortress you couldn't move
For you had by then forgotten
what used to be the truth
-x-
Feb 27, 2021
Feb 27, 2021 at 4:48 PM UTC
My conciseness was a seed of spider threads,
and when an idea birthed like a
sack of baby arachnids.
Crawling within,
consuming my every introspection.
I slumped over the page, they crawled forth,
tiny metaphors continuing after
my musing was consumed within..
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 6:12 PM UTC
Chipping nails,
shards of hardened skin
and turquois on silver, her hand
attached to a paperback permeating of rotting corpses and wilted flowers among
washed up license plates scuffed by sea glass,
once a bottle of a failed enlightened and darkened drunk, I am sure of it.
You drool, salvia skulking your chin—
loose fingers drop the rain-soaked umbrella
and
I’m drenched in water, I sail down the street, on an arc brimmed with mammals
and arachnids; six of the spiders, two of the dog.
I spit out and profess the skin once clung to my lips, I see the layers,
out here, two dogs prance around the field, tripping over each other
as six spiders creep and crawl under us, slithering
one lands
on my sweater in the classroom,
I squish it dead,
with the heel of my hand. Usually, I’d scream.
Instead, I took the power to make something alive—something dead.
Fog-Horn Leg-Horn, “and then-and then, I say-I say” kills you,
wadding you beneath the cooped-up coop,
Swiper Swipes No More.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC
Dangling from old cobwebs
Mummified within lonely fast dying
Saturday evenings.
My heart is ****** dry.
Drained by red lipped, long legged
Arachnids
But not completely.
You see they almost finished me.
But quickly crawled away
Toward the stench of juicier conquests.
So I hang here.
Mummified within loneliness.
But wait...
I can feel this tomb of intricate fine silk
Loosen up a bit.
I scream and kick and crawl out from the dusty old trap
Surprised.
It seems this was no trap at all
But a cocoon.
I was cornered and bled as a fly
But look now,
8 long legs,drooling fangs,murderous hunger.
I crawl to a damp dark untouched
Corner
And learn to spin
My own web
Again.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC