"haemorrhaging" poems
I need to cleanse it, free myself
Of this burden tainted upon
My being. Cinders are drenched on
Flesh
Spirit
Expunge
That which writhes is not burnt away,
So I must eradicate its stench
It violates upon my being
I unburden the pressures so released,
Pyroclastic flows breath exfoliation on my
Soul,
Pealed,
Freed
Of that stench scorched into oblivion
I relish in the torment of those below
Freshly parched earth as lungs burn breath,
"Fallen misery descends in singed flesh"
I release the Feathers weighted down
Haemorrhaging as crimson flows to the
Stems, expanding into the beauty
Of death, I am
Released,
Liberated,
Redeemed
Upon the fallen as I step upon ash
"Bones, death, rebirth"
As no longer afflicted,
I am once again blanched as purest darkness
Is Neither black or grey
"But lucid white"
"As purity is only clean"
"I am purity of darkness"
And the taints of humanity are flakes upon
Silent statues upon the ground, I am malevolent incarnate..
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
Etched in his mind,
The internal war,
Haemorrhaging blood,
Hidden once more,
Slowly he’s dying,
His body too weak,
Paralysed lips,
Unable to speak,
Traumatic life,
Slipping away,
His heavy soul,
Aching today.
He witnessed it all,
The burden unseen,
Screaming their names,
Tortured in dream,
His cries settle,
His memory fades,
Wiping the tears,
For former comrades.
(Repeat)
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Peach the worst of the of my small lumps are like putty in your hands,
My armpits glow like a midsummers wasp!
My lips are haemorrhaging for the hamster gnawing on your legs, bath time gurgles in a desperate attempt to save humanity,
Bum-chortle, guff and blast; oO0pS it's all brown and runny!
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
Etched in his mind,
The internal war,
Haemorrhaging blood,
Hidden once more,
Slowly he’s dying,
His body too weak,
Paralysed lips,
Unable to speak,
Traumatic life,
Slipping away,
His heavy soul,
Aching today.
He witnessed it all,
The burden unseen,
Screaming their names,
Tortured in dream,
His cries settle,
His memory fades,
Wiping the tears,
For former comrades.
(Repeat)
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 2:53 AM UTC
You stick fingers between my
Dried bones, concealing
The dark organs
Contaminated,
Oozing,
Nauseating
Stench radiates from within
But you see beauty where only
Decay breathes forth from
lungs that exhale particles
Of death, but you breath in
All I expel, your talons encroach
Upon this lump still
Beating,
Blackness,
Haemorrhaging
Concealed nectar of death running
through what flesh on bones remain.
Her talons of nail dig in,
I feel if for a moment something
Other than death,
She lacerates it,
"As black secretes forth"
My love erodes
Flesh upon her fingers
As she tastes the nectar
Blistering her throat away
We both felt it for a moment,
"Love was bled"
"Love was tasted"
Even in darkness there is
"Love"
"We paid a heavy price"
As the heart dissolved us away.
But we were in darkness and love freed us for
That moment, now our spirits together
Solidified for eternity,
A blade fashioned for those who cant take
The pain of love,
"To bled it upon the blade"
For it will feed on that emotion
For it was called the
"Eclipsed twilight"
Where light was momentary,
But could still evoke that feeling
"But love is eternal"
Its can never be bled out fully
Love once tasted in light or darkness
Never really fades away.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Behold! My sorrow storms straight through daylight.
And not on the last stroke of midnight, when demons sleep.
To entangle me with its invisible ropes, ropes tugging me tight.
Twisted, Swooned, crushed, haemorrhaging deep.
Labyrinth of shame, heralding my doom, looming ever close.
Earning waste with each second more, till sudden salvation.
That scarce shall cast upon my dim verse hugely verbose.
Inside this too stagnant a mind flows nothing but indignation.
Malaise made manifest with the profusrness of a poet's pain,
Entitled as imbalanced brain, a fresh sign of insanity.
Idle hours thrown away like confetti and time spent in vain
Narrow words written by young hands but a spirit of mundanity.
Morbid fascinations of mine with this lack of hope.
End so soon as I leave this world, unable to cope.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
too many black suitcases
in this world.
mine gapes,
guts spilling, insolent in an otherwise
check out ready room (bed abandoned,
two coffee mugs dripping
dry).
"so you'll just zip this life
closed..." it leers,
haemorrhaging treasures
gently offered, and *****
laundry, "...will you?"
this page, this pencil, will not
fit; must I leave you, too, behind?
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
I find the allure of burgundy hues,
not one for the corpse of grapes,
being
squeezed of every essence of life...
But the allure haemorrhaging forth..
I could be buried within this collage of
elegance.
And when I dig myself from it,
I would paint,
seeing a picture of vigour.
Not the outline that others see ,
when
its chalk lined on the canvass.
Its not deceased,
this moment has only just breathed.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 3:44 PM UTC
Daylight is over rated,
showing the weakness
that caresses the darkness.
Where strength is whoever walks,
when the sunrise knifes
at every vein of existence.
Haemorrhaging the beauty of silence,
daylight is the noise of an
awaking purgatory on life.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
Kept on a leash of normality
It tethered on the inside,
Neither half full, but simmering
On the outer reaches,
Lucid,
Confused,
Cramps
Of what behaviour was meant to bleed
From my inner self. I had another
Voice in the cracks I was told of what
Was howling at the thoughts I was broken.
Myself had different shades inside,
My demons were surfacing, showing
Obscurity,
Haemorrhaging
Multiplex
Of thoughts cascading, curtains were
Pulled from my shattered perception
Arguing within myself spoken words
Into thin air, I spoke, their voices.
Even though mine was the only one that
Was spoken out.
My insides were spilling out, it was
Do,
Die,
Drown
In the war of thought and words.
My inner demons were liquid escaping a fractured shell.
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
When the bereavement of a seasons passing
lingers,
leaves fall like haemorrhaging droplets.
Tree's like skeletons of past life,
waving in the wind.
Shadow now claw longer than before.
As life decays, beneath..
frigid breath crawls along the landscape,
those left above entombed in decay.
mortality of surroundings..
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 5:49 PM UTC
Broken razorblades haemorrhaging
beneath my voice, I tried to sculpture
the pain beneath my intentions.
To sew them underneath with blunt
needles. venting the devastation that
clustered beneath, I wanted to bleed out.
If I needed wings to soar they were plucked
before I flew, and the razorblades were
haemorrhaging beneath, I'd cut them myself.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 7:58 AM UTC
I am haemorrhaging. My life is haemorrhaging right out of me. I feel faint like a distant star on a foggy night. Oh where is the moon?
I burn too weakly now, masked by shadows that the wayward children lose their way home. They stay lost in the cold and crying, 'Oh where am I?'
Where have the other stars gone to, disappeared from their posts? They run away; they run out to play. But the children are still crying. Oh what do I do? What do I do?
I am haemorrhaging light, but it is still not enough to light the way home. In furrowed frustration, where are the other stars? In determined desperation, I light myself ablaze.
A heat grows within, and I haemorrhage more. Brighter and brighter I burn, piercing through the galaxy, through the dark void of space and through the foggiest of nights.
Look.
The children look up to see the northern star shining so brightly; too brightly that they are afraid to move. What is wrong? They asked me.
My voice quavers under the strain. Go home, I pray. Be safe. I can only burn this one last time for you.
This spectacle of mine drew the others home; they ask me with jeers, with curiosity, with worry. What are you doing? Why are you doing this?
I give the stars no answer but a question instead, where have you been?
And then the walls in me cave in and I explode.
A burst of light so bright it blinds. So bright it is burned into the eyes of the children that each time they close their eyes, they will see me. See me lighting their way home. But look up at the night sky now, and I am gone. I have burned out.
In all absolution and regret, I am returned into stardust.
Oh where am I now?
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 10:25 PM UTC
I'm a sanitary towel
soaking up unconceived
wording.
You bleed them heavily,
the smell of copper
syllables
Haemorrhaging upon me
saturating deeply I'm
used.
Throw away like it wasn't
personal, but I'm now a sentence
completed.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 4:19 PM UTC
Slightly collecting on the singular
lingering moments before I was
able to pause and watch them bleed.
screaming verses muffled with duct-tape
haemorrhaging. They were my toys of
every pain I had suffered. But I bled
random thoughts on their flesh and sighed.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 5:52 PM UTC
I can hear the lullaby of life,
serenading
our movements to where
we sway delicately to its
inevitable
conclusion, a moment that
is elegance haemorrhaging to
silence..
"Life is a masquerade of motions, we dance till they fade,
Mar 9, 2017
Mar 9, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
Within beauty
there is always the smile
of a clown
Its lips red bleeding on
the petals of white.
Rose's haemorrhaging.
Within the fragrance of
clotted aromas,
we cling to the reflections of beauty.
Corrupted within the smiles
of a clown,
bleeding on petals
of white roses corroding.
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
Hitting you up side the head,
concussion from my lyrical spread.
You got cerebral haemorrhaging as
my words hit you with a even spread.
Your ears are bleeding,
dry mouth as nothing said.
My words drip from your ears
enough you said.
But im not the one taking
weak **** shoots.
You tried an failed,
now your get syllable assaulted.
But no prosecution,
cos the only
witness is incoherent mumbling.
If you come at me again,
better get those words sharpened,
cos they need to get past
your breath.
As they blunt at the moment.
My words are a razor cutting your throat,
you'll bleed out but, ill smother your
Haemorrhaging silence,
On bottom of my shoe.
As i throat choke you,
listen to that...
Its the silence of you,
And I looked at my watch,
your the last second past,
uninteresting and not worth remembering.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 7:36 AM UTC
LIGHTHOUSES OF THE MIND
"Fiction is to the grown man what play is to the child."
R.L.S.
Come Louis and play
with my food
transforming my porridge
with a sprinkle of imagination
so that dusted with sugar
it becomes a land
buried under snow
and now with milk
a land invaded by
a white sea
the mind flooded
with thought
wave upon wave
of seeing
the food itself
taking second place
to whatever Thought
can get its teeth into
when seasoned with
such dreams.
And on nights in Nice
or in La Solitude in Hyères
writing in the dark
with your left hand
to spite the sciatica
fight the haemorrhaging
the partial blindness of
Egyptian ophthalmia.
"New Songs of Innocence" or
"Whistles for Small Whistlers*
finally becomes
"A Child's Garden of Verses."
Robert Louis Stevenson
creating in the night
lighthouses
of the mind.
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC