"bloodred" poems
My mother never appeared in public
without lipstick. If we were going out,
I’d have to wait by the door until
she painted her lips and turned
from the hallway mirror,
put on her gloves and picked up her purse,
opening the purse to see
if she’d remembered tissues.
After lunch in a restaurant
she might ask,
"Do I need lipstick?"
If I said yes,
she would discretely turn
and refresh her faded lips.
Opening the black and gold canister,
she’d peer in a round compact
as if she were looking into another world.
Then she’d touch her lips to a tissue.
Whenever I went searching
in her coat pocket or purse
for coins or candy
I’d find, crumpled,
those small white tissues
covered with bloodred kisses.
I’d slip them into to my pocket,
along with the stones and feathers
I thought, back then, I’d keep.
4.6k
My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.
And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.
My hero bares my side and sees his heart
Tread; like a naked Venus,
The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;
Stripping my **** of promise,
He promises a secret heat.
He holds the wire from this box of nerves
Praising the mortal error
Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
And the hunger's emperor;
He pulls that chain, the cistern moves.
2.9k
i’m fighting with gravity
to the death- until my head rests,
empty as my belly
on this false-porcelain floor-
skin waxy as laminate over
these heavy hollow bones
waiting for freedom-
liberation from this sullen casing.
i shake, manic-
blood pressure in the basement,
nauseous from diet pills and anxiety.
jittery, stare at the ceiling-
a spider, stick-limbed, teases me,
but here’s the silver lining:
no curds or whey coating
my shining insides.
i am stronger and brighter than ever
as black swims in my vision-
light-headed from malnutrition,
i wrap fingers around my wrists
to make sure i haven’t escaped my limits.
the mirror doesn’t lie, but it won’t snitch.
we’ll keep this surreptitious.
spilling my bloodred guts, my blood,
won’t make me wither,
and confessing won't save me either.
this red ribbon stays tied around my wrist.
secrets kept keep me stable
clinging to my only success,
self-confidence cellophane-wrapped
in my absence, my transparence.
the whispers don’t mean a thing.
i am frantic on a wire frame,
white noise on parade.
the ground can only hold me for so long.
i'll sprout wings from my ribcage
and float away.
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom
'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
'Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.
"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.
"Now Warwinner walketh
To weave in her turn,
Now Swordswinger steppeth,
Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
When they speed the shuttle
How spearheads shall flash!
Shields crash, and helmgnawer
On harness bite hard!
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof
Woof erst for king youthful
Foredoomed as his own,
Forth now we will ride,
Then through the ranks rushing
Be busy where friends
Blows blithe give and take.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof,
After that let us steadfastly
Stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful
Their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
Stood stout by the prince.
"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers
To banners rush on,
Mind, maidens, we spare not
One life in the fray!
We corse-choosing sisters
Have charge of the slain.
"Now new-coming nations
That island shall rule,
Who on outlying headlands
Abode ere the fight;
I say that King mighty
To death now is done,
Now low before spearpoint
That Earl bows his head.
"Soon over all Ersemen
Sharp sorrow shall fall,
That woe to those warriors
Shall wane nevermore;
Our woof now is woven.
Now battlefield waste,
O'er land and o'er water
War tidings shall leap.
"Now surely 'tis gruesome
To gaze all around.
When bloodred through heaven
Drives cloudrack o'er head;
Air soon shall be deep hued
With dying men's blood
When this our spaedom
Comes speedy to pass.
"So cheerily chant we
Charms for the young king,
Come maidens lift loudly
His warwinning lay;
Let him who now listens
Learn well with his ears
And gladden brave swordsmen
With bursts of war's song.
"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Crew cut kiss curl stood
above the goose steeping generals
with empty heads and olive green
jackets
dangling aluminium war medals
for shooting ducks across the border
flying over Seoul
“Nfeuirok2fmdfiwe384194u3ujriwejm"
crew-cut kiss curl yelled.
“I told you 091874874814729”
( his swedish education was now showing!)
The train pulled out of pyongyang
with two thousand dead
that fed the famine. Only the driver
was alive clutching a loaf of bread.
stacked with cardboard cutout missiles
atop 1920s tanks and
painted with bloodred honesty
the entire nation goose stepped
to crew cuts orders.
He was as nutty as a fruitcake
but nobody laughed when he loaded
his only nuclear missile to bring down
the last remaining duck heading to Siberia.
Ha ha!
Author Notes
This is not a joke. Or is it?
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
My homeland!
You have been watching your crippled borders
with wistful looks for gloomy centuries
Soon we will wipe your bloodred tears
after heroic and holy adventures
Yet you are in a deep disappointment
because of the hands lent to the unscrupulous
But never unlearn the destiny ever:
history is always betrayed,
talents are envied,
virtues are misused...
They love politics, not the history,
'Cause they have a historical fear
and it reminds them how they had been abused...
I have found even their "sumptuous" justice
which is carried in their ***** bulky pockets...
My dear,
It is very near,
In Karabakh, the stars will twinkle in a joy
50 million times I will mention your name
and to Jıdır we will be running bare feet.
The echoes will fill the preconceived ears
In Shusha, I will call you,
In Tabriz, we will meet...
Sep 29, 2020
Sep 29, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
There's a crowd of pitch black unicorns at a Chelsea Wolfe's concert.
A crowd of pitch black unicorns moving their onyx hooves and horns
at the rhythm of drones dressed in electric guitars. An acoustic break follows.
The vibrations of the music and dancing cause purple flowers to grow,
purple flowers weaned on blood and sticky black tar. There's a crowd of
unicorns dancing at a Chelsea Wolfe's concert feeding on ladybirds crisps
and dragonflies sticks, that once home will play vinyls on mystic turntables of fire.
The purple flowers grow into vines and try to smother the unicorns
to prevent them from listening to bloodred-dyed vinyls on mystic turntables of fire.
Meanwhile in the corner of a museum S. Teresa of Avila's statue animates by itself, walks
to the window and throwing itself crumbles into a thousand of pieces of marble.
The seventh seal has not been opened yet but the ninth the eleventh and the seventeenth
exploded already, cracked their own wax and started spreading tongues of flames
and water to decimate humanity. A woman dressed in a fifteenth century scarlet outfit
leads the pitch black unicorns to salvation creating a safe haven for them
in Manchester and another one in California. They have in the meantime gone bonkers
and started feeding on each other. Equine teeth suddenly grow carnivorous jaws.
Nothing is left in the two oasis apart from a puddle of blood and a pavement of corpses.
It's 7 a.m. Chelsea has not yet finished her concert and her music blossoms around
played by the mystic turntables of fire. That which remaineth is pitch black light
and the breath of aeons lingering here and beyond and nowhere.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
§
The bloodred silk sheets are cool and sleek,
like a snake you slither across.
Seductive viper, with coal black eyes.
You suprise me in my evening slumber,
pulling down the sheet
you expose my naked body.
You savor the sight,
like a lioness over her prey,
you pounce pinning me.
You always awaken me this way,
and you catch me at attention,
waiting for you.
So I glide inside as our ***** collide,
in my candlelit chamber
our screams of pleasure are trapped inside.
I cannot hide my desire,
for this passionate union, of gasping mouths
alternately harsh and gentle groping hands,
I reach up to touch your face, and you **** on and bite my fingers,
and you can taste the *** in my fingertips.
More than breathing I need to fall asleep inside you.
Warm fluids on our thighs
cooling.
We can change the sheets tomorrow.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 5:13 PM UTC
you burn me
yet you soothe my wounds with your words
i set you on fire
and then lead you to the river
you are the flame
offering the light to find my way
i burn you
and abandon you in pain
you set me on fire
then hand me the oil
i am the flame
you try to escape
we destory
to build back up
together we burn brighter
our fire shining bloodred
together we create a flame so high
it swallows our surroundings
we stand in the middle of the ashes
and look at each other
Feb 6, 2020
Feb 6, 2020 at 7:44 PM UTC
IV. Isaiah
If ever on the moors in seeking
Zarephath she faltered—
White of gossamer and lamb—
And the well in running over
Colored bloodred clay
Lapis Lazuli, sweetened to dewpoint
As for what it meant
To those that saw and waited
Prophets and disciples of an
Instant; bear witness to the
World reborn (not premeditated)
At muddy dawn in unloved scrubland plots
Subsequent to love running sacred between
The pages of an unloved tome, a fissure
What is a truth?
Could I reach out
And touch you?
What holds your heart, Elijah?
Who can you see beneath the glass
Who stares back from the bottom of a raindrop
Flashing past before convening
With the ground?
Did you know, my dear,
I stem from the disillusionment of ground
And the resurrecting of fraught winter
Sky?
Did you know,
I am alive and dying to go, now,
To arise from Pelas and walk free in sun again?
I want to love the rain
So that it knows
I want to lavish love upon your
Lips, your hands,
Your neck that holds
Your temples, the gaps between
Your ribs, and vertebrae, and 50 billion stars
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 1:01 AM UTC
I watched
I watched the gold flecks in your eyes turn to amber flames
I watched as your nectarine lips turned bloodred
and instead of a crooked smile there leaked a devious laugh
I watched you buy Malboro Blacks instead of Arizona green tea and a Kit-Kat
I watched you change into something you weren't
because you were me
you are me
and I thought I needed change
but I didn't change for the better
I changed
and now I can't change back
I'm in love with the demon I call myself
the dark, the twisted, the wrong
all these things that I've become
that I am
everything I never thought I'd be
I am
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:44 PM UTC
The bloodred Sun rises.
Misplaced souls and victims stuck in the upper parts of the atmosphere
giving the rays their ominous colour.
Blood particles risen from dead bodies float high in the air
painting the sky in orange-red.
Clouds form where humidity is highest, travel west
to a grey society, with hazed heads
where it rains Dead.
Blood reigns on our hands. Emphasis on reign.
Silently participating, masters of passiveness.
Shackled minds, broken chest
every infant born deaf
For sheep speak and think the word of the flock.
So wisdom's lost, past mistakes made will
eventually lead up to another rainy day.
This vicious cycle will stay the same
the climate acts according to our rainy ways.
For the smell of rain and the taste of blood
is ironically the same.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
The sound of a heart breaking
Is louder than the headphones make your music
Louder than the siren alarm of a fire
Louder than the scream of the executed mind
Louder than the engines on the takeoff to the bloodred sky
But it is misunderstood
Simply because you are the only soul
Who can hear your heartbreak.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Your wildflower kiss, is all I crave,
I cave, and you unbury me, with honeysuckle lips.
You wield bliss in your fingertips,
I cannot resist.
Your love alone
is all I seek every morning.
Your the only sure thing
in a world of maybes.
I dive into the deep end of life,
never fearing drowning,
I know you will save me.
Your love is the sun
that sustains the bloodred rose
that shines from the ***** vacant lot of my soul.
I tell everyone,
but everyone knows,
the raging sea of my heart is under your control.
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 7:53 AM UTC
Imperfection unparalleled
Flawed like flies on ****
Cold like that ***** November
******* frigid
And aloof
Come now, tell me what you see
Can you read my painted face?
Can you kiss my coloured lips,
Or see past the black lines that block my eyes?
Fortress impenetrable
Impregnable
Quite impressive really
But also impossibly sad
I can fake confidence like you’ve never had
Do you like me in my party dress?
All legs and eyelashes
All smiles and camera flashes
Cheap wine and car crashes
Find me alone in my college bed
Naked from the neck up
Dreaming of someone who would love me that way
And praying that someone could be me
Drinking copious amounts of black tea
And waiting out the winter
Call me the great pretender
I’ll wear that title like a badge
Because paralyzed by insecurity
I still manage to drink and dance so beautifully
Wake in the morning
6 am
to stich up a fresh face
face the day with unmatched grace
and fabulous poise
wink and wave at older boys
then rip your guts out in the dark
slice the pain and swallow
puke it out until you’re hollow
pray for revelation
or salvation
maybe a vacation might suffice
here’s a piece of fine advice:
prayer is all we have.
And as for me
I’m evergreen and office pine
Jagged cliffs, an infinite decline
Bloodred bleeding valentine
Just a few heartbeats from a flatline.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
I watched
I watched the gold flecks in your eyes turn to amber flames
I watched as your nectarine lips turned bloodred
and instead of a crooked smile there leaked a devious laugh
I watched you buy Malboro Blacks instead of Arizona green tea and a Kit-Kat
I watched you change into something you weren't
because you were me
you are me
and I thought I needed change
but I didn't change for the better
I changed
and now I can't change back
I'm in love with the demon I call myself
the dark, the twisted, the wrong
all these things that I've become
that I am
everything I never thought I'd be
I am
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
Falling asleep to love songs i'll never hear
Knowing that I'm dependent on the one thing that I fear.
I wrote my skin a letter today
'I love you,' It said, 'but never again play.'
Looking outside at the bloodred moon
Wishing somehow for a deeper cocoon.
Feel the lines underlying my eyes
Each one fought a tear for a man in disguise.
Fingers made of ashes, heart made of lead
Can't seem to repay in gold, the one that for me bled.
Patterns prevail, vibrants on which to set my mind
But not even the pen, to me will be kind.
Gather up your children for I come around at dusk
May try to steal a precious gem to fill this empty husk.
Bed of fresh snow, sheet of ancient lanterns
Lying in numbness, whilst thought of being woman, turns.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
petals
in the wind
floating gently
to their final destination
bloodred scarlet
already started
to wither
in the gentle
wind.
sparks
fly
from an explosion
sparks
turn to flames
petals turn to ash.
ashes
in the wind
floating gently
to rest
upon
a crimson
bloodred
flower.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
I know what it’s like when a soul dies
For a Sunday night surprise tainted my pair of heart eyes
On my bed sprawled a man and sweet Clementine
She met his lips with ones that were formerly known as mine
In shock, I hastily began a procedure vaguely resembling a seizure
My mind’s eye saw how I was confused and misused
So quickly came the chill, putting the warm parts of my heart to disuse
A darker side of psyche was ruefully deployed
I turned empty, a void, bona fide schizoid
My fingers now around their throats, I became Death’s harbinger
Love-borne vengeance made corporeal, a cheater’s swan singer
I caught their eyes with mine, bloodred from scornful blame
Turns out souls and bones break quite the same
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
the cold light of day reigns:
concrete, metal, glass, towers
the "system" turns humans into numbers
new york city is full of giant rats
pregnant with the outflow of frustration
in the moonlight, their teeth twinkle
bloodred maws, spiky fur, darkgrey
i don't want to become a rat
"you gotta keep a sense of human"
a quote by earl simmons, a.k.a. dmx
lord, gimme shelter, gimme strength
bornheim, germany, yonckers, usa
regardless where we are; who we be
this line hugs my son nicholas,
and i do love eden, my daughter
THEY ARE LIFE. THEY KEEP A SENSE OF HUMAN.
i'm max, and i'm not trapped in placelessness
gotta stay clean, will meet my kids again
trance is not life, it's the aberration of escape
my weakness is my strength, i got it in me
like a greenly glowing marble of hope
drugs don't change the world, but you
as i was laying in a puddle of sweat,
i prayed to god: "pleeeease let me live"
couldn't breathe for a moment, fear of death
the addiction for the trance brought me there
i gotta keep a sense of human; for myself
i gotta keep a sense of human; for my kids
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC
an old, decayed mine, far from civilization
psychotic warriors occupy alleys, resolutely
this here is their last match, the death match
only one survivor remains, bloodbath
walls are covered with intestines and *****
fuckburst killed five, a female voice moaning:
double **** multi **** mega **** ultra ****
each increase is arousing our speaker
unreal tournament, land of fun and gore
your addiction is called "flag canon",
"rocket launcher" or "monster ****
i'm all in now, no worries, no regrets
bloodshed covers you in bloodred
but i don't know the truth, barktooth
we are drinking silver-blue fantasies
as bullets spraypaint your apartment
you switched the game off, but the
monsters are attacking you, warrior
vibrating echoes and their dark voices
in rainbows, in rockets, in repetitions
shadows eat up your courage
motionless, swooshing swoosh
you are trapped inside their thoughts
no chance to escape, you get crazy
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 7:15 AM UTC
I killed a man in my sleep last night.
strange albino maskface
cueball head coated in alabaster
greasepaint of a clown
skin white as the sharpened teeth
tearing through a bloodred slit of mouth
that wound the only color in his face
he was keeping me there
in the darkred room with no windows
holding me there in fear
terrorizing me
torturing me
delighting in it
consuming my fear like a drug
lusting after my pain
pleasuring himself with it
It had been a very bad day for me.
but then he brought Her in
so She could see what he had done
witness the mess he was making of me
brought Her in so I could see
the pain and the fear twisting Her beauty
but then he lost himself
in his lust and hunger for our degradation
he leaned down
face to "face"
pressed his sickening skin to mine
to whisper in my ear
all the things he was about to do to Her
He shouldn't have.
my hands were on his head
fists closed around ears
and pulled
thumbs went into eyes
and sank
and his bloodred mouth opened in glorious tortured screaming
my teeth clamped down
tearing into his bottom lip
with everything i had
i pushed and pulled and tore and ruined
eyeballs popped wet and cold like rotten grapes
ears gave in came off ripping strips of cheek revealing bone
lip tore down down down over chin and neck and red flowed free
free as i felt
free as i now was
as we now were
and i looked to Her
worried for us both
for so many things
and I saw Her
standing shocked
and there was no more fear in Her eyes
and there was no more love in Her smile
there was only the dumbfounded awe
of the newly awakened
all i felt
was justified
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
how irresistible is the strawberry ripe with bliss,
dripping with bloodred ecstasy.
how beautiful is the mouth that feeds on this,
a vision from my carnal fantasies.
how mesmerizing are those lips that kiss,
stained with red and tempting me.
how jealous am I of the strawberry you hold,
in your bloodred stained gravity.
how I want to taste the passion you control,
and throw myself into your rhapsody.
how I want those lips to dance with heart and soul,
upon mine own with sensuality.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
She didn't quite have a clear understanding of what she had come home to
Her parents lying on the floor
Jagged bits of the shattered mirror
And a bloodred carpet
Her older sister upstairs in the bathtub
With reflective glass in her wrists
She stepped outside
It was too much
She'd have to live with her aunt
She didn't want to
The weeds that grew around her house leaned against her ankles
Queen Anne's Lace to her thighs
Dandelions tickled her feet as she walked
She stood in front of the bridge
And thought
No
She decided
No
First
She called her boyfriend
He rushed over
And held her in his arms
As she tried to cry
Tried to feel emotion
He called the cops for her
She told him about her aunt
He almost cried
He held her tighter
Stay
With me
He said
She said yes
And finally cried
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
her soul was the flavor of anarchy
and he knew he wanted a taste
silver roses and bloodred flame
to win her heart was a lovely game
he kissed her in the rain
and she touched him without shame
he wanted her heart
but only got pain
she played around
with the strings of his heart
but she sometimes feared
she would tear them apart
a flicker
or flame
a bite
and a taste
of her
anarchy
soul.
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 6:15 PM UTC