"gruesomeness" poems
It's not hunger for flesh to matter,
glucose and life.
It's a feasting pain for soul,
it's emptiness between ribs,
lungs torn in fold.
Christen me a black hole,
cardiac's no response to a dead soul,
ghosts haven't a say.
please it's no compatibility
please me with fangs,
fashion thistles and ripping implements,
non-human descends always to the fiendish of gruesomeness,
bloodless and monstrous.
Haven't a prayer,
haven't a soul,
haven't got a vessel to scream
wretchedly home.
It's best to let demons lie,
let spirits die,
burn out our dying phantom cries.
It's to feed the slaughtered
with platters of blades and bullet shrapnel,
ghosts give,
ghosts speak,
ghosts don't truly wish for a living peace.
Please may we take a taste of rifle barrel,
please just a second helping of buck shot
and spoiled brain splatter.
Bless what we become,
all ghosts eventually become undone.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:21 AM UTC
I don't know what to feel,
how to feel.
Too many emotions are barraging me,
and it's overwhelming me.
Something akin to love,
maybe closer to friendship than anything...
Desperation for my wants.
It seems pitiful, and admitting it just
makes it even more gruesome.
But looking past the gruesomeness,
there is truth. Honesty.
A lack of denial...
I have to face it.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 11:58 PM UTC
No matter how many
love poems I write,
Or times I try explaining
all of it to you
None of it would be as effective
as if I were to simply
place my heart on a platter
and that would be an act
whose gruesomeness
would be profane,
no statement is proper
no statement is effective
and you tell me that I don’t need
to try explaining it ,
but then sometimes lying next to you,
I am afraid that I am draining too much
and not opening my own floodgates
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
sangkutsa— sana'y kartada nuwebe
stove -- so much inner blue
in this gruesomeness,
still soft is the orifice, maiming
the speech whirling in warm press;
hand -- to just blindingly toss out
in wording it so that then this is true:
we once had each other in the
simmer of feelings, leaving
our shadows crazy-eyed in
elegiac silence.
rawness -- boiled to a broth:
thawing largeness, tipping away in
and of feeling.
final stages --- half-done in waiting,
half-undone in wanting. darkness
condoles with the aperture of
clouds twitching to rain tritely
against the tiled floor. islands of
wet footmarks make the traverse
viciously slippery on my way
to your side of breathing.
all of it -- hand's gentle breeze,
salt of lake-eyes, melee of tactical pressures sizing down spots gleamed
and honeyed with ires. a hiss
on landscaped neck where a peregrinating perfume sits, feverish with
desire and nothing else,
blood boiling, whistling through the pores are the saltine sweat
poised, almost
for the mouth's readiness
in consummation.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
As I sit here reading words that ring so right with me I am still afraid
What is it?
-old beliefs
none of the folklore makes sense to me
Yet the fear prevails
how can I not let go?
Why can I not let go?
Seeing truly that we are nothing but our beliefs
... I am missing something
Is it a belief
Yes
A belief of frailty
I can not seem to put out of my person that I would not have chosen my childhood?
only my perfection would choose that existence
And if it is not what I remember why would I remember it?
It makes sense the Christ
- but why the circle ness?
to create
and how does that create ?
energy
The ones that spoke to gods were speakers, teachers , mediums sensitive
What made them valid then was but the people's beliefs
If that is indeed the case then we truly are doomed
Or shifting-
To machine?
Or energy?
all are so entranced by the gruesomeness of it all
never the joy
We want to share bad
It is the energy that creates the chaos on a global scale
But how can we shift it?
by ignoring it
then fear
A trap?
if the devil was indeed cast out of heaven my question is which one?
And has it just become a game of energy?
each feeding the same source?
yet we choose to feel and spread only chaos?
in fact then we are the fodder for existence
or all that is
if it's all the same
why do we keep perpetuating it?
to create
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 2:38 PM UTC
You say you understand.
That it's okay but you've seen these tears before.
Was I saddened by his abuse or the love that surfaced from it?
I had compassion, he had a soul.
I realized his soul was mine, the way he clings to me.
Maybe in a past life he was my child and I was an unfit mother.
Incapable of loving for I was never introduced to it.
I have a hard time of loving myself, but it's numb I'm so used to it.
How every relationship unfolds it gruesomeness.
I was told I was meant to be alone, I cried for a bit.
But I lived many lives now
I understood what it meant.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC