"devourers" poems
So still she lies,
Sleeping.
A cold room
Cold thoughts.
Under cover of cotton and linen.
A cold lonely wind
Cries outside
Longing to find solace
In the warmth of our home
But finding only that it devourers
By its own devices
What it so desperately desires.
Pain in my brow
Forged with hers.
Sharing breaks
Up the pain--
Comfort of depression's transitory end.
Why do you hurt the ones you love
When you want only peace?!
A lover of the land
Must plough the earth for yield
Break the ground in fury
To prepare it for seed.
This pain awaits our company
Like a bottle to a drunkard
Or a needle to a ******
Comfort is pain
Pain is comfort
In this violent serenity
As the calm peaceful sea
Can in one moment
Turn into a tumultuous gale.
Is love for the using?!
Can a person justify
Putting lines of age on the face
And gray hairs on the head
Of the one they love?!
So many carry this burden.
Love shares common ground--
Seasons for ploughing and planting;
And harvest,
The season of closure.
So still she lies
Beside me.
A cold room
Warmer thoughts.
Under cover of cotton and linen.
Under cover of compassion
And understanding.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC
Snoring gangling giant,
Slumbering away on a snowy
night.
Spoil of war unprotected,
Opening ways for ingress of
worrisome infiltrated
interlopers.
Remember the lord of Philistine
Samusini,
Who returned not from the
seductive antics of his
mistress,
Perished in the furnace fire of
frustration,
And drowned in the Laguna of
no return
Slumbering hindered the move
of the water.
Howling of devourers enclosed
your shack.
Heterocercal caudal fins of
sharks prevented the sailing
of ships.
Wolfished wailing of tidal waves
consumed the anchorage
ground.
And the apparition of foes
lurked-up in darkness like
the foehn on the Alps.
Awake before the devastating
night owl.
Awake from the abyss of deep
slumber.
Awake before the cockcrow,
When darkness of defeats
Controls the reigns of night.
Snoring gangling giant,
Awake unto light.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
Our tendrils have parted the cracks in the stars
as we slip through the space in-between
Cacophony echoes through the dark of the sky
and the air starts to split at the seams
The hunger is growing as the swarm is amassed
we're compelled to the prey we've caught
We are a sea of gnashing jaws and slashing claws
We are conclusion, we are the maw!
You are the chosen, gathered livestock
Marching solemnly to the gates of the slaughter inside out walls
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC
~ menu fixe for Chez Revanche
Anxious Anaconda Antipasto.
Mega Shark Soup.
Grinning Crocodile Fillets.
Prodigious Python Pie.
All served up like revenge,
appropriately cold.
Presentation is everything.
Tuck in, before they do.
_ mce
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:43 PM UTC
‘How much more can one bear?’
Her words almost emerged from the rain
And echoed in the droplets’ din on the soil,
‘How much and how much more?’
Her voice rose above the thunder.
She was looking weird in the lightning’s flash.
‘The first man in my life left before I was a woman,
Let woe befall him I don’t remember his face.
He left me for the feasting vultures and wolves
And the devourers spared nothing but my bones.
God, I’ve no faith in him, played a greater devil,
From that lust of rain, a drop planted in me a seed
That birthed in this debauched heart a seed of greed
Of hope, of life, of a love of my flesh and blood,
One that I could bring and nurture with pride.
But my womb infested with the rivers of poison
Couldn’t ripen it enough to drop on earth
And there I was alone on the rough wild sea
With no land on sight, no shore to anchor,
Floating aimlessly where no light would ever shine’.
‘You write so much about loneliness and suffering,
Make it up having seen so little of the real face of it.
But I’ve lived them, each day sinking evermore
Into pits from where my agony’s cry couldn’t be heard.
How much more can one bear, how much more I still have to?’
Her words fell like thunder as the rain lashed the earth.
I knew the vainness of all the pictures I painted!
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
The sound again
No the lack of
You can't hear anything
You try snapping
Nothing.
Yelling full force
Nothing.
You know you're not deaf
The world around you returns to normal sound
But it isn't right the shadows
Their deeper almost pit like
The oddity of the day pushes you
Now in a cryptic room
Cobwebs and silence
Scattered bones catch the eyes
The sound leaves again
The shadows deepen
Sound still missing you hear a sound
A something a nothing
A scratching sound
They
Scamper
Crawl
Slither
Ooze
Lurch
into the room
The darkness now trivial
These beast
No not beasts creations
Imagination run wild
The monstrosities of sleep
The monsters of fear
Death shrinks away
God flinches away
Jesus prays for your swift demise
The devil pleads for your quick end
These are long forget nightmares
The monsters that haunt man
What lives under your bed
What little toys man actually is
These are the devourers
They follow you home
The live silently
Until you notice them
The monstrosities wait
Don't try
Run and never stop
They still watch you
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Can't hide the rigors
Of anxiety and fears
Even knowing what it harbors
Can't cloak their effects from mirrors
It figures
Such a force can disfigure figures
Right under the skin it lingers
The worst possible time is when it appears
Rears up to rip down the facade and veneers
The you you knew is what it devourers
What good are middle fingers,
When only directed at yourself?
For now,
I guess,
I'll have to put that question on the shelf
©2024
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 7:53 PM UTC
I watched it ascend
I beg you devourers
keep reading
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
Fingers seeking,
lips quivering,
eyes blank.
I've know you to not be there.
Fatigue and sorrow are old friends.
The clouds dance in a rythm,
mourning, the blood overflows and spills,
spills,
spills,
till my face devourers it whole.
I laugh at the rain, pattering down my neck;
You don't even know me.
You mean sorrow but I feel discomfort.
This wretched pain, my stomachs knows you too well.
Stop, throw it out,
better yet,
feed it to the rain, put on a show.
Those blue eyes are the light,
breath before you die.
Death? Perhaps you were already cold and a corpse.
But your beating hearts tells me otherwise.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC
As my eyes lay upon the settng Autumn sun,
The West wind still lingers in the air,
Blowing the leaves of the poplar tree through my hair.
I close my eyes as the last light of day shines on my face.
Golden are the rays as they vanish beneath the earth.
Then all that is left behind is Darkness,
That devourers all that it touches.
The blackness cloaks all that is coming;
Coming for me.
But when the ravens fly overhead looking for me,
And the serpents scour the grounds,
I will have been long gone.
For my eyes have never again seen that pure golden light.
Closed to the Earth they are and, that they will stay.
Two roads await me now,
Wether I choose the left or right is unknown.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
I've become a victim of the night
the predators they howl my name.
Heads raised up with their pride,
a haunting silence in their taunting stride,
waiting for me to come their way.
Once the dark night hides the sun,
the greatest devourers have temporarily won.
For within the depths of my mind they stay.
All at once, they swarm, they stalk.
Overwhelming me, encircling me,
as I start to fall.
I'm caving in and I want to break
to protect myself I ease into a mindless escape.
Then, as the dark night slowly turns to day,
they leave me to be left in this vacant state.
When I arise from my wake,
a foolish relief to find,
there's a short absence from their taunting stride.
But, once the dark night hides the sun,
again I hear the predators ignite their cry,
and I've become a victim of the night.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 8:58 PM UTC
Sitting, picking at split ends,
fishing for volition in the deep end.
Twitching, itching skin past spent;
the Tinkerer's turning pen tips into trenches.
**** twigs, spit bricks til the crypt filled.
Sheer skill, no fill, spare me the semantics.
Hit the bench, kid, kick off the cool kicks.
These royal blue vans be too fierce.
Long live the worms, the devourers of dirt.
Here's to the ones molding the curve.
Your overlord's back, now pass me the torch.
Kick a door down like It's a word I'm after.
Craftier than those rats of Madagascar,
but I'd ditch the laughter, poetaster.
After all, you bow to a master.
Dig deep, DeadBeat's unleashed.
Good grief! His technique is Hulk green.
Guaranteed to knock you off your two left feet.
Whats wrong? Last I checked, talk was cheap.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC