None but the marked
shall rise in the dark.
Hell-bent;
the earth, shall they raze.
They took up the oath
to ever-revoke
mortality for immortal praise.

Lifeless, and hopeless;
a thirst so atrocious;
an eternal,
unquenchable lust.
In death, shall they grow;
to blood, they're betrothed.
Their hunger derails their disgust.

Sink teeth into skin;
to the flesh that's within;
bleed dry
the carcassed wellspring.
This world, once so grand,
'twas undone by their hand;
dereliction, their only decree.

The shade of the night
brings naught but delight
for those
who burn in the ray.
From out of the grave
spawn the crimson depraved,
feasting 'pon the walkers of day.

*When sunlight strikes west, 'til dawn, do we pray
against these abhorrent butchers called "They."

step             off
down
         into
      blood red dust
                                    of
rusted dreamed
                    thoughts
     of steeled determintation
bought                  low by
                    times patient tick

word drought

                     poems        
                                      carcassed    ­      
                about   around
            where here
where                 ....ether

wade through and wade through
this vacant unloved space
           to sit under              
                                             ­                              the  ego skeleton tree
     here to listen
                     to the
    brain bone leavings
                  rattle and sough
in memorie's
             faint primative breeze
       as we  ......await the
..muse...all     monsooning..
  .. soothing         rain  
                                  fall
to come ... festooned....
         with the petrichor
                           fragrance of wild word blossoms and
              newly wrought  
                     thought blooms
until        then
                       i sit drooling,
driveled,
        words into shifting dust
destined to
              fly                     and
     flicker away
        on the
              next worlds sigh

fare well  good bye  adieu
               namaste

till again
              i await
              the soft feathered bliss
         kiss of rain

Sometimes I forget that I am a poet until I meter lost dreams into sonnets or I burn eggs into soot and draw out long lines in the pan

I forget that my fingers, though long and clumsy, routinely drum delicate cadences across the hard smooth surfaces of tables and door handles or even the soft hilly bits of flesh and fat

I forget the way that my teeth click and grind or the way that my toes dig and scratch into the rough patches under my feet

And the sound it makes

Or the rattle of my breath as I stomp and the room shakes
I forget that line that I inhale with smoke and exhale in contempt

I forget about the crunching of scratching and the rustling of shifting limbs
I forget about the restlessness in my palms and the sloshing of rough skin when they meet to make warmth  

I forget about the words spoken under my breath when my eyes have glossed over and my thought are darting across islands

I forget about the tangibility of my shifting whims and the sounds that they make as they make their homes in the walls around me
And the residual letters that shed from the carcassed corners of whims left for dead


Sometimes I forget because I am fickle and absent
Sometimes I just forget…
But then I remember
That I am a poet

It was many a year ago 
And even longer still,
In this lighthouse by the shore,
That I was sure I heard a noise,
A scream at my chamber door.

At that moment my soul grew weary,
My spirit naught but ash
Which had carcassed and fell upon the floor.
And my shadow still, by Earth and Will,
Which Surpassed me 
Long ago in the forsaken days
Of Yore.

At that moment in my heart
There was a certain burning
Soon there became a  
Constant Yearning
A desire that I had long
Forgot about before. 
A series of utter bedlam 
Which had never frightened me before.

Moments passed 
With no mere word 
Which was spoken 
Though remained unheard.

As I kept to myself
Upon my many books of lore 
As their voices broke the 
Untaimed silence 
And fell upon my ****** ear

"Shall I intrude 
This proven evil?
Is it man, or is it devil
Which made this deafening shrill upon my door?
Beast or human who so
Dared to leave his darkened 
Shadow upon the floor?"

At my door 
There came a sudden tapping
With many voices overlapping 
The voice of those 
Who had been dead and gone
Long before
Once a knock, nothing more.

The flames of Hell 
Grew in my eyes
From my chair
I was yet to rise
presently here
and no further
My soul I could pertain
No longer 
My faith doubted by the 
Very thing which stood
Behind my entrance door.

"Sir," said I. "Forgive me
If I seem mistreating
But the simple fact is 
Entrance indeed you are 
Entreating"
I stood there my heart ever beating. 
"Late is the night
I have no room to borrow
Though indeed you
may Return tomorrow 
Surely your departure
I must implore.
I admit I have not remained
A well kept host
I am a man not visited my most
I have my doubts 
And I became engrossed
Whem I was sure I heard you
Knocking at my chamber door"

After 3 long years I have finally finished this poem!

It was many a year ago

And even longer still,

In this lighthouse by the shore,

That I was sure I heard a noise,

A scream at my chamber door.

 

At that moment my soul grew weary,

My spirit naught but ash

Which had carcassed and fell upon the floor.

And my shadow still,

Which Surpassed me

Long ago in the forsaken days

Of Yore.

 

At that moment in my heart

There was a certain burning

Soon there became a 

Constant Yearning

A desire that I had long

Forgot about before.

A series of utter bedlam

Which had never frightened me before.

 

Moments passed

With no mere word

Which was spoken

Though remained unheard.

 

As I kept to myself

Upon my many books of lore

As their voices broke the

Untaimed silence

And fell upon my ****** ear

 

"Shall I intrude

This proven evil?

Is it man, or is it devil

Which made this deafening

Shrill upon my door?

Beast or human who so

Dared to leave his darkened

Shadow upon the floor?"

 

At my door

There came a sudden tapping

With many voices overlapping

The voice of those

Who had been dead and gone

Long before

Once a knock, nothing more.

 

As fear burned within my eyes

From my chair

I was yet to rise

presently here

and no further

My soul I could pertain no longer

My faith doubted by the

Very thing which stood

Behind my entrance door.

 

"Sir," said I. "Forgive me

If I seem mistreating

But the simple fact is

Entrance indeed you are

Entreating."

I stood there my heart ever beating.

 

"Late is the night

I have no room to borrow.

Though indeed

You may return tomorrow.

Surely your departure

I must implore.

 

I admit I have not remained

A well kept host,

I am a man not visited my most.

I have my doubts

And I became engrossed

When I was sure I heard you

Knocking at my chamber door."

Twas here had I opened the door.

 

Somewhere deep into that darkness, lurking,

Was a beast who stood emerging,

Demanding acknowledgement that I’ve never once gave before.

And with that reason,

In my heart I felt such treason

Such betrayal have I never felt more!

“Are you are you man or are you beast?

Are you coward, or are you least?

I demand you reveal yourself to me!”

 

Slowly, ever slowly

This visitor, rude and lowly,

Came into the light wholly presenting himself to me!

 

The Horror! The unspeakable truth!

Had I been such a fool in my own youth!

For I tell you in God’s own truth,

That child was me in my own youth!

Here I slammed the door!

 

 

And this creature, never speaking,

Is still entreating entrance at my chamber door,

And his eyes have seen all things

From demons jeering,

And the light above him dreading,

To cast even his shadow upon the floor.

For in life I’m caught in dreaming,

And the scream shall poison these dreams forevermore!