"basilisk" poems
...
***I've got a few visitors tonight;
they're all associated with the wolf under my eyes***
I.
*I've left loneliness to starve on a stone table,
while jealousy can bleed me a lake;
fear and I are equals,
on the battlefield of fate.*
"Pay no mind to the rebel."
II.
*Forked tongues recite wickedness; of all
the shadows gaining power as the sun was slain.
Black flames banish all that is golden,
as darkness bent my silent skeleton;
but it didn't break.*
"I'm just some sin you committed...right?"
III.
*A basilisk waited for me at my chambers,
it requested a lullaby, and a glass of iron wine.
Who knew poison would be my new best friend?
Who knew my company would be kept by
an oracle of silver'tongue?
Dead languages clutched my
lively secrets.*
"Every wolf gets tired of the moon at some point."
IV.
*And just like that;
We were splintering at your wolfsong
auburn poems at the feet of trees
waist deep in misery you sat,
head crowned in autumn's diseases.
Witnessing you tilt your head to plant a kiss
on the night's wings;*
***"Oh, it's ******* agony."***
*Watching your eyes harvest hurricanes
love sinking in tongues
of ebony sorrow.
they don't belong to me
you don't belong to me.*
***"I suppose I can't change the world
but I will leave it colder."***
V.
*And sometimes, love is just the aftermath
of a tragedy.*
...
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
basilisk ****
nonparticular inexecrable exit
art ****
the lips on for breakfast
twilight zip entanglement
meticulous bending and sensual telepathy
fever-sickness
rock 'n roll boo-boos
lilting black 'n blues on the caboose
puppeteering every tasty ***** loose
chews the collar
thighs and necking room
bustling bussers it gives ifs
gets down with
daisy, dior, dkny, grapefruit(purple) to narcisso and pink sugar too
Bliss tainted madness
playing tug-o-war with
January's vacuum
Years of passing down groupies
to the most recent djs playing bad dubstep tunes
and that sickness of seeing iloveyou's abused
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:31 AM UTC
Paralysis
Crippled
By fear
Or anxiety
Depression
Like the gaze of a basilisk
Sinking
Unable to swim
All the lifeguards look like sharks
Manage to struggle in the currents
Further and further
Swimming
Away from the shore
On purpose
People can tell you you're Superman
But when you are your own kryptonite
Why even try to swim
Being crippled
By the basilisk
Its grasp never loosens
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
Basilisk eyes
and
Silky skin
Hide the poison
Contained within
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
I.
So far as our story approaches the end,
Which do you pity the most of us three?—
My friend, or the mistress of my friend
With her wanton eyes, or me?
II.
My friend was already too good to lose,
And seemed in the way of improvement yet,
When she crossed his path with her hunting-noose
And over him drew her net.
III.
When I saw him tangled in her toils,
A shame, said I, if she adds just him
To her nine-and-ninety other spoils,
The hundredth for a whim!
IV.
And before my friend be wholly hers,
How easy to prove to him, I said,
An eagle’s the game her pride prefers,
Though she snaps at a wren instead!
V.
So, I gave her eyes my own eyes to take,
My hand sought hers as in earnest need,
And round she turned for my noble sake,
And gave me herself indeed.
VI.
The eagle am I, with my fame in the world,
The wren is he, with his maiden face.
—You look away and your lip is curled?
Patience, a moment’s space!
VII.
For see, my friend goes shaling and white;
He eyes me as the basilisk:
I have turned, it appears, his day to night,
Eclipsing his sun’s disk.
VIII.
And I did it, he thinks, as a very thief:
“Though I love her—that, he comprehends—
“One should master one’s passions, (love, in chief)
“And be loyal to one’s friends!”
IX.
And she,—she lies in my hand as tame
As a pear late basking over a wall;
Just a touch to try and off it came;
’Tis mine,—can I let it fall?
X.
With no mind to eat it, that’s the worst!
Were it thrown in the road, would the case assist?
’Twas quenching a dozen blue-flies’ thirst
When I gave its stalk a twist.
XI.
And I,—what I seem to my friend, you see:
What I soon shall seem to his love, you guess:
What I seem to myself, do you ask of me?
No hero, I confess.
XII.
’Tis an awkward thing to play with souls,
And matter enough to save one’s own:
Yet think of my friend, and the burning coals
He played with for bits of stone!
XIII.
One likes to show the truth for the truth;
That the woman was light is very true:
But suppose she says,—Never mind that youth!
What wrong have I done to you?
XIV.
Well, any how, here the story stays,
So far at least as I understand;
And, Robert Browning, you writer of plays,
Here’s a subject made to your hand!
2.1k
Bet I’m in the belly of the Beast
With this enemy ofMe
Do I fight or flight or Freeze?
Cause either way
this mother *******
coming straight At me
I was only a dark forest away
From where I needed to be
I never metaphor for anxiety
Like this one
*** Imposter syndrome
Mara’s army fires arrows
Of self-deprication
And self-doubt
And i hit the ground running exhausted
Hot and heavy heaving
To the four-on-the-floor
At the heart of the war…
She was doing yoga in the distance
And as she rose to mountain pose
I let my mind slip back into the prose
Where I fetishized her
Like some sacred ******* object
Caught in the act like Actaeon
Watching The Huntress bathing
Basilisk staring me down
Like Artemis cloaked
In her wild fury
And as she rose to mountain pose...
She held a crescent blade
To the throat of the horizon
Locking her eyes in
As she stood over Gaia’s mouth
Spinning up **** Magick
Earth the power back from the word
She channels power back from the void
From womb to tomb
To womb of the tomb
She creates
She destroys
Her body, Her weapon
Her own ******* choice
Dec 30, 2023
Dec 30, 2023 at 8:05 PM UTC
plead your case. the silence that follows will deafen your prayers... it will eat your rain.
tread where smoke has layed eggs in a nest of flames.
use your thoughts nimbly, and thereby, climb the ladder madly
humbly gone by love, my love.
humbly gone
by love.
these are not the words in my mouth. they are god's frogs. a soft plague of cecil b. demille with ampibians and barbedwire. these are not the fickle neptunes in dischord. you are not the last unicorn. only the basilisk in my zodiac. my marvelous queen.
these are not the feathers of a proud crane. but a wrecking ball reassembling a dandelion with a leather whip and a chair. they tumble from my limbic intimacy with your private lies. i bring genuine venom to cure blindness; but i leave an antidote under my tongue should your kisses beg to be a fool.
i won't say what this is.
i have bruises where your name left a dent in my kevlar.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
i felt a shock
when my gaze
shifted into
your electric
green eyes
and my gut
dropped
umpteen
stories
as a devilish grin
spread across
your oval face
your words
slithered up
and down my
spine like a
thousand serpents
prepared to strike
at the first
sight of weakness
but i couldn’t keep it—
from stumbling
out into the limelight
it must have been
the highlight—
of your day because
i stuttered and
your words sank in
and dispensed
your venom into
my stream of innocence
and i just haven’t
been the same since
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
I pulled the sword from the stone
I struck you down and road you to the Earth
With a bow and a kiss I wiped the blood from your lips
And even you had to admit it was grandeur
And all the walls you built and empires you buried in the dust
They were meaningless once you found a derelict bannaret
And they flew the bright banners all over town for the wedding
Of the dragonslayer and the basilisk
We bought a house close to town
Right across from Judas Iscariot
We always bicker 'bout the branches of the oak trees
He said "They said time would heal all my wounds but yet
Mine keep splitting open like I'm the dragon against Saint George"
Advance our standards! Set upon our fears with old bitter hearts!
But I ended up hanging off of her every word until
All the life that I had in my lungs choked out
The flower girl is lying
Eastern Lilys through the halls of the morgue
Nero's drunk off wine and waving his bow like a sword
These days I can't remember much about Heaven
'Cept the smell of dead astronauts and gnashing fangs of fury
And a deeper understanding of honest ambivalence
Is there a God in this machine? Has he got his eye on me?
I've got some questions and I expect answers!
Mama, I just killed the only thing I've ever loved
"But each man kills the thing he loves"
I'm a killer with a kiss! I'm a coward with a sword!
Oh what reds does Hell hold for me!
Jul 10, 2012
Jul 10, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Flow Like Fluid Concept by Jay Byrne of Eclectic.Collective.
"text" Jay byrne text Mr.Sandman
-------------------
I flow like fluid. I do it. You knew it.
The cryptic, mystic, Celtic Druid. rpt x 1
--------------------
"Bring them all on, mix them in me cauldron.
Brewin' up a batch o' bad beats to call on.
Broth's bubblin'. Brewin' up, rumblin'.
I try avoid trouble in me hometown Dublin.
I'm a pacifist. I take the ****
Spit like a basilisk. A rhyme alchemist.
An optimist when the chips are down.
Smoke verbs like herbs the proverbial clown.
I get a notion. Pure emotion.
Check out me rhyme. Poetry in motion.
Behold me ocean. Come in it's fine.
Jay's The Name, I'll take you Deep Into The Rhyme.
So deep.
Put your back to me brother cos me brother I keep.
No sleep now it's on with the show.
Feel the beat now I'm lettin' you know. That"..
-------------------
"..I flow like fluid. I do it. You knew it.
The cryptic, mystic, Celtic Druid."
--------------------
*Grrr...I flow like fluid. I do it,you knew it,
the Poseidon Adventure,Marianas Trencher,
I flow like fluid. I do it,you knew it,
the Poseidon Adventure,Marianas Trench-yeah*
-------------------------------------------
*Welcome to the Maelstrom,event horizon,
barometer's droppin,ears poppin,the pressure is risin,
yours widen in surprise as you enter the eye of the perfect storm,
beneath the surface beyond the norm,
moments ago the surface was placid and warm,
Now the Sandman's here...Sea's turbulent,
sound the alarm,
too late wrong Siren,your crew is all charmed,
chain yourself to the mast spindrift whips past,
as I froth up the sea's with my breath,
mermaids approach eyes promising caresses of death,
whether Mariner or Sub Mariner,you're no challenger,
Architeuthis is toothless but it still strangles ya,
Mangle ya drags ya down to the Abyss,
welcome to my realm,hear the crackle and hiss,
Neptune's risin,rhyme's sussurus surprisin'-you're caught on my Trident,
______--__________________-___________
*Cause I flow like fluid. I do it,you knew it,
Poseidon Adventure,Marianas Trencher,
I flow like fluid. I do it,you knew it,
the Poseidon Adventure,Marianas Trench-yeah*
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC
In the centre of the ruins
A carved stone creature stands
His mighty beak is open
As are the talons on his hands
The muscles on his chest are taut
His wings spread on his back
His legs are so positioned
As if ready for attack
He stands upon a pedestal
Struggling with the clinging vine
A witness to civilisation gone
He has withstood the test of time
His stare is across the ruins
Toward an ancient obelisk
Which somehow might be linked
To the mighty basilisk
If the basilisk could talk
What tales he could tell
Of generations of mortals
And of how the city fell
Jul 31, 2012
Jul 31, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
Ornamental graves set like feasts
for unfaithful lovers,
the broke marrow of virtuous phantasms,
now swaddled rapture
chanted as basilisk verses.
Scarred Alice wraps it around
torn limbs--
festering gauze--the cynical made anew.
"Creation moves," the gluttonous moper speaks again,
"to erase itself."
Alice's children blasts
the afterlife caboose
to the front of the freight
--saeculum saeculorum--
"Wake again and again
without ghosts and wrath,
dear children." The wind whispers their souls
back to her--"the molding of men
and women attend to sponge the graves dry."
They will raise themselves
--chanting the basilisk verses,
mother Alice
departs her children twice
to the corridors of rose fields
in her naked cloud.
"Come back, dear mother...."
"Come back, dear mother..."
they chant,
"Your salted epitaph
still lingers in our throats."
Not fit there
or here.
Nowhere, Miss, nowhere--
Sin is the party
that doesn't die
and neither does the health
of lyrical sand.
--Floaters like discontent
Alice,
recreate the world,
--our world with
pastels and finger-paints
doodles on Arlington headstones
--messages for our ear bones
--disasters on eleven
turning stones roll over--tortoises play dead
but whisper,
"Clergy cerebral
won't wisp away
beds of jewels.
I pity people who think
themselves powerful.
"Frost-bit devices dilate
like the hands of a watch
tearing time apart with
rusty blades.
"Counting fingers--useless freedom
--bothersome slavery."
Alice knows what the basilisk knows,
we would sacrifice
the only righteous heart in *****
& Gomorrah
to save
&n
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
Iodine damnation cleanses Alice--rock-and-roll medusa
alone in the field,
she waits for the flies to eat the spider
--the third testament of law
divinely christened as low as $19.95.
Hell is where
Schrodinger throws the bodies. Revived Alice is in a burlap sack
embedded in the cubbyhole
of a mortal anthro-rubix,
the small garnishes that spot livers during cancer.
"Hello and welcome
to the resting place of all Blues songs."
speaks the curbed lips of Gluttony. A name that vomits
up rebellion, like cleansing the glucose off
fish-cleaning tables.
Alice touches her eyes rolls them
--fortunate galleries,
broods deeply on the jaws of her receptors.
"After the last drop, the hard boiled spoil
and the cats won't eat 'em. Neither will I," Gluttony spews, "You all show up
as do I, magnifying the cruelty of digging,
digging,
digging
that follows me and you to the bitter stem
and rough petal--throwing this rose,
that rose,
here and there inside the carcass of lust.
The scalding photograph of a guerrilla war playground
hangs over
the mantle of a prideful garden.
"Pulp wisdom
looking back at the names of thieves/murderers
of simple thought
over-turning scars of fallacy
in that garden.
"Picking,
picking,
picking out the best arrangement
so it doesn't look like I went
through a drive-thru
for what to say. 'Hey.'
'Yes?'
'I love you.'
'You too.'
Something in between
what you, I, and the others were looking for
has uprooted bushes--the tilled chest of my sister
and lover--disarrayed, dirt thrown
to the side.
Fibonacci colors patterned
across the moist earth
to distract you and I, all from the dread, and all
the relief
of ripping apart the white, pink, black, and red."
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
BASILISK-EYES,
GELID-LIPS,
UNDULATING-MANE,
IMPULSIVE-BRAIN,
HYSTERICAL-HANDS,
UNFURLING-FINGERS,
ASTRAL UPPER-MOIETY,
UXORIOUS LOWER-MOIETY,
TREADING-FEET,
HOLLERING-HEART,
REJUVENATING-PROTOPLASM:SOUL........
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Plasmatic schematics
mold plastics
& filament
dangles in the doorway.
Grape fuit sweat,
enough to fill a
Basilisk flask,
stains my nostrils.
Thermodynamic hammocks
solved the energy crisis
between me
& her.
A golden silhouette
postulates in my doorway;
speaking in tongues
to her ****
She is the structure
of water.
The process
of a thought.
Gouge out my eye
&
hold it consciously
between those clammy palms .
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC
A lone pearl trembles.
The basilisk eye closes,
weeping its last tear.
Failed conquistadors,
every good man in their tow
drowns in the dry air.
Venom in the dust.
The serpent slinks and recoils.
A vesica pouts.
Not one soldier spared;
a white flag hangs in tatters.
Both sides won the war.
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
*Your eyes shift like
clockwork forcing
December into
it's rightful rank.
Frostbite bursting
from jaws of
Sagittarius, iron
staining your
crow -feathered
muzzle. I
plucked Sirius
off the face of the
sinking sky while
weaving his
starlit fangs into
steal wolf teeth
for replacements.
You swallowed
an oath of loyalty
for alunakira
so I will build
and reach into
that heart of
vintage glass,
drag the dog of
war from the
sunset stomach
you own~
and do as Lupus
told me too.
I will construct
symphonies of
tiger -lily
dusks & dawns
to raise the
dead poetry in
basilisk heart.
Lycan, I'll
withdraw the
ashes of
Avalaone just
to get the
Gears working
again in your
a u b u r n
e y e s*
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
The face of the precipice is black with lovers;
The sun above them is a bag of nails; the spring's
First rivers hide among their hair.
Goliath plunges his hand into the poisoned well
And bows his head and feels my feet walk through his brain.
The children chasing butterflies turn around and see him there
With his hand in the well and my body growing from his head,
And are afraid. They drop their nets and walk into the wall like smoke.
The smooth plain with its mirrors listens to the cliff
Like a basilisk eating flowers.
And the children, lost in the shadows of the catacombs,
Call to the mirrors for help:
'Strong-bow of salt, cutlass of memory,
Write on my map the name of every river.'
A flock of banners fight their way through the telescoped forest
And fly away like birds towards the sound of roasting meat.
Sand falls into the boiling rivers through the telescopes' mouths
And forms clear drops of acid with petals of whirling flame.
Heraldic animals wade through the asphyxia of planets,
Butterflies burst from their skins and grow long tongues like plants,
The plants play games with a suit of mail like a cloud.
Mirrors write Goliath's name upon my forehead,
While the children are killed in the smoke of the catacombs
And lovers float down from the cliffs like rain.
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 12:34 PM UTC
our suffering was human long before you
tried to “humanise” it,
give us the kiss of life,
i am not your wife, i am not your sister
i am not your ******* daughter, sorry to break
all this water
on the embers of you
deigning, for once, to give a ****
what your friends do to us
by imagining we belong
to you — i will demonstrate
how little you know of possession
as i run
my keys along your car
til your mouth unlocks, drops open
and i dive down your throat, walk around
in you, the cage
of your ribs more spacious than
my own, two sizes too small,
zero, counting down to take-off, space
for my heart all taken
with the frenzied tango
of me watching you watching me, behind
my eyes, all winged
and no less trapped for it
vandalism is not violence
i would have snapped
your wrist when you tried to kiss me
just to see if you’d curse quietly
about your shattered iPhone bones
pick up, dust off, shrug shoulders
cold and solar
your belongings increasingly disposable
so when you love me because i could be yours
don’t flinch when i spit
in your eye, scream, cry, take
your name in vain
to leech from myself the pain of your basilisk glance
turning me into rubble, eroding all
the toil and trouble or whatever it is
you fear in me, petrified
perfect specimen, cut and dried
venus de milo on a pedestal
armless, harmless
all legs and bust
soft hewn and lunar, gathering dust
i am not your medusa
victim, your rock, your ***** girl
grain of sand to make a pearl
i am fire, water, air
you cannot hold me
don’t stroke my hair, don’t ******* touch
me, yeah, my fingertips
may turn you to gold
but i’m not here to spin your straw
neither am i some unrefined ore
for you to forge into a wedding ring
stone is bitter cold as metal
though it makes a rougher crown
don’t worry, though, my darling,
the chill will hiss and dissipate
when i come to melt
you down
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
Sometimes I cannot say
what is blue rose or basilisk.
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC
"It's a girl" they said
Ooooooh think of all the pink things
Like booties and bows
Dolls, and toys that aren't for boys
"Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed"
Blow the candles out love
Your mother spent hours baking
Your mother spent hours labouring
"She's a woman now!" They cried at her 18th
"We'd better watch them boys!"
But what about the girls?
Why aren't you watching them?
Is it because those girls are at the kitchen sink ?
Awaiting a boy's wink of approval?
Through buttermilk sweetness these
Pink girls think.
You men are ******
Full of tricks
That send half these girls to a shrink
But it's time to have a rethink
We fair maidens view you
Through basilisk eyes
We fairer *** are
Crueller than you
It's time to drop kick the pink
Permanently into the kitchen sink
And slink behind you
With a candlestick
After all I'm just a pink girl
Who would believe that the
Pink mess on my dress
Is your brain?
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:12 AM UTC
Why does red means risk?
Why does it signifies danger?
I did searched and frisked
into the unknown lithosphere.
I even gazed into the basilisk
just to see things clearer
and uncover
its meaning deeper.
I went further,
even employed cindynic,
the science of danger.
And there,
it laid bare
right before my eyes,
red's real meaning.
Red is the Color of Love.
Love is the danger,
Love is the risk,
it is the menace
that we are warned of.
You're my red flag,
the risk I'm willing to take,
the danger I'm willing to embrace.
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 8:12 AM UTC