"hounding" poems
the bones were hard to give up,
they pushed out like daisies
caressed under the hounding
heart of a copper sun.
unbridled and undried they bore
zealous arrogance of themselves,
petals dripping ****** convictions
and vibrating like awful angels.
under cruel devices they tried to
soften my bones and mold thick skull
constructed of lackluster candles
on their last flame.
days passed like doctors and white nurses
examining old wires that pray tell
the routines, the stools, the teeth.
i am their Jesus, their Lazarus.
my hearse, my sheep keeper,
my pretty things,
i become the acrobat at the
finale, the last supper,
supplementing at the **** of my
recovery. i lay my skin down for all
of you to see: here is my breast!
my toad belly! my glass feet!
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
The summer night
is the summer day,
in a daze, we fall asleep
in the a.m.
We wake up,
we find our friends,
we do it again.
Lamplight
can't save us now,
we're out hounding.
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
Run, Gemini child
And run fast
For tragedy is hounding
You in the guise
Of glory
And billing you
For excesses uncontrolled
The end is drawing near….
Though you have no fear,
Must you also have no shame?
Hide, Gemini child
And hide yourself well
Hold still, unmoving
Drop out of sight
And out of mind
For the consequences
Have exacted from you
A high price to pay
A form of revenge
Festering in your unkempt spirit
How could you live
As you have allowed yourself
To lead?
Destroy not your soul
For materials that put their
Patents on you…
Must you go so low?
Can you never go slow?
Downwards is a long
And empty route
It was not the road
That the heavens had
Destined you to take
Though it be the one
You will never, ever forsake…
Be kind dear Gemini child
And go down alone
If you think that you must
Your looks might be lasting
But your heart remains wanting
Let other people move on
And share not
This unnecessary pain
Let time be the judge
Nor excuses be made
For your living the fullest
Through irreverent ways….
Curse of the seasons
Child of the star
Rest but your head
On a pillow of stone
Walls that constrict
From maggots insist
Anaesthetize all emotions
That plagued you in life…
Meet me at Forest Lawn
Where to you I will sing
To wipe all your tears
And sunflowers bring
Moodust on my pocket
And one for the road
Dear Gemini child
Running from cold
Kiss to the fate
All the prophets fortold
Dear Gemini child
So beautiful and so bold
Mine is a love
That time can not fold
Depicted in stories
That shall never be told…
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
Run, Gemini child
And run fast
For tragedy is hounding
You in the guise
Of glory
And billing you
For excesses uncontrolled
The end is drawing near….
Though you have no fear,
Must you also have no shame?
Hide, Gemini child
And hide yourself well
Hold still, unmoving
Drop out of sight
And out of mind
For the consequences
Have exacted from you
A high price to pay
A form of revenge
Festering in your unkempt spirit
How could you live
As you have allowed yourself
To lead?
Destroy not your soul
For materials that put their
Patents on you…
Must you go so low?
Can you never go slow?
Downwards is a long
And empty route
It was not the road
That the heavens had
Destined you to take
Though it be the one
You will never, ever forsake…
Be kind dear Gemini child
And go down alone
If you think that you must
Your looks might be lasting
But your heart remains wanting
Let other people move on
And share not
This unnecessary pain
Let time be the judge
Nor excuses be made
For your living the fullest
Through irreverent ways….
Curse of the seasons
Child of the star
Rest but your head
On a pillow of stone
Walls that constrict
From maggots insist
Anaesthetize all emotions
That plagued you in life…
Meet me at Forest Lawn
Where to you I will sing
To wipe all your tears
And sunflowers bring
Moodust on my pocket
And one for the road
Dear Gemini child
Running from cold
Kiss to the fate
All the prophets fortold
Dear Gemini child
So beautiful and so bold
Mine is a love
That time can not fold
Depicted in stories
That shall never be told…
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
The truth flowed out of me
Like a flood
And everything I've ever said
Tainted with the blood
Every shadow brooding
Silently I
Call to the sun
Open my purple eyes
Strangulation
Seared imagination
The child the child the child
Put down the child
Cast away the child
The prodigal son
Was killed by bears
Hounding sidewalks for nickels
The truth shone from my eyes
Half closed
Half asleep
Half adrift
Not alive.
Something deep within has died
Brittle bones and shaky sighs
Rattled breaths and paper hide
Put down the child
Goodbye
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
I’m lying down in the ground
as the sun shines its rays
right inbound
on me.
hounding me
(surrounding)
Without a sound
Or is there?
A ringing
or dinging
a pinging
maybe a constant stinging.
I wouldn’t know.
Could be the blood pulse
or the sea dulse wrapping
the seashells doing their sins
or
a pair of siamese twins
trying to
dance and
lance and
advance on my grave
(how brave! how brave! i hope they cave)
germinated spouts
and terminated doubts
with exterminated outs.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
This world will throw road blocks in your path
Disguised as people.
People masked with love and honesty
Men and Women adorned with fair hair and a sparkling smile.
This world will throw boulders into your path
Marking you with kisses and scars
Swaying you to stray from your goals
Asking you to give up your morals.
This world will send storms into your path
To push you back
And off the road
To hold you down.
Though through all of this,
We continue to walk
To run
Onwards.
Away from their grasping hands
And through the pelting rain and hounding thunder.
Toward the horizon shining with the ever-present idea of hope.
-ALC April 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
When people are shocked when they hear
About the things you did to me
I am always met with a strange level of surprise
For many years
I led my life believing this is normal
That everyone faces some form of abuse
At some point in their life.
Maybe it's because my normal
Has always been feeling stranded
Feeling empty
Because I don't know how to feel anything else.
Maybe it's because my normal
Has been for over a decade
That this is just how things are
As though it has been viciously branded to my body.
Maybe it's because my normal
Includes me proudly exposing my scars
So I can help others heal theirs.
Maybe it's because my twisted normal
Has made this everything I see.
I cannot say that the way he touches me
Does not bring up memories of the way you violated me.
I cannot say that the smell of mushrooms
Though vile to most people
Does not bring up a specific image in my mind of your bed.
Then mixed messages tell you
"It's your fault"
"It wasn't abuse"
"He should be in jail"
"Why wouldn't you prosecute?"
"You should hate him"
And you just want to shut out the noise
So you can soundly make a decision on your own
But they keep hounding
And you lose the ability to cope
So you take a knife to your arm
And a handful of pills
So maybe you can just have silence
For once.
Parents find you
And therapy becomes crucial
In which she tells me
That I am safe
I am okay
I am fine.
However, I will never be fine
Because I can never accept what you did to me
But I have moved on because I am worth it.
Letting you control all of me
Thoughts, behaviors and actions
Is like letting you get away with this atrocity.
It's like letting you tell me this is my fault
When it's no one but your own.
Although, when people ask me why I don't hate you
It's because you do not get the satisfaction of any of my strong feelings.
However, it is also because
You were a teenager
If people knew everything I got into at fourteen
There would be some pretty incriminating details there as well.
But the main reason why I will never exert anger toward you
Is because I got over this traumatic event not by hating your existence
But by loving my own.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Category 2,
not too bad...
Swirling, whirling
Pounding, hounding
Rolling, Spinning
But
Manageable
Category 3...
Freight train,
coming from every direction
Major, but nothing new
Just an hour
Hold on,
We'll pull through
Pressure suddenly
DROPPING
Ears constantly
POPPING
Category 4,
...
Too late
My father's sharp
Breath
Pieces of homes
ripped off like flakes of skin
Leaving the ground barren
Only the bear bones
possibly remaining
Till they too,
are forcefully wrenched
apart,
A majestic structure,
now reduced
simply,
to *******
Mother nature
hurling trees
in her
wrath
All-
...
Gone,
in
a
matter
...
of seconds
The roar
mirroring the one,
in my head-telling me to
get
Get OUT
NOW
The world...
a symphony
of rage, ferocity, passion
Violent reds,
splotches of
orange and fuchsia
That,
I unfortunately,
seem
trapped within
As the clashes and roars
Waves and cutting wind
Swirl around me, I wonder,
is this,
what an insect feels like,
stuck in a washing machine?
Come to bed,
my father calls
I go,
reluctantly,
to the pillows and covers
that should be warm and soft,
but to my touch,
appear frigid
stiff
My eyeballs
practically popping
until at
some unknown time,
they shut
and I
SINK
Sink
sink
...
...
Sunlight streams in,
A dream?
Perhaps...
Possibly...
Maybe...
Oh, if only...
Unable to contain the hope,
I leap up to my window- And freeze
Debris-
not trees,
not homes,
not anything
Just a mass of objects rendered useless and stamped with the label of
-DEBRIS
...
My father says,
No more running water
My neighbor's little blue
shed,
...
in shambles
Yet,
as I step outside
After what seems,
like a long arduous battle
I was an unlucky
Bystander
caught in the middle
of
Yet,
Despite the
churning feeling
in my stomach The broken battered *******
the ruined property The, miserableness
Of the situation
But then again...
As my father,
fervently
prays
praises
Thanks the Lord
...
My mind,
is blown away
As I stand,
In awe
as my eyes take in the majesty
of those few,
solitary,
hundred year old houses
...
still standing
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
I t seems it was my fate to be
Introduced to this addiction
Born by way of bloods descent
Mixed with generations past affliction
I have watched them sink so lowly
Into the depths of selfish little cracks
Like burdens of un-human kind
Carried on their children’s backs
Feeding on the scraps in life
Of those who struggle to survive
They care not for a child’s grief
When their addiction comes alive
It passed me by with sorrowed grins
Longing and obsessed by what it craved
I watch in mourning as your gift
Of any tomorrow was enslaved
You took the food from our mouths
To dine in the belly of the beast
On our tears and misery you fed
Addiction boasted of its feast
All of you just wasted away
Right before our haunted eyes
The depravity of selfish want
No longer wanted its disguise
I left your addiction to starve
Within its bowels I did divest
IT chokes within my bitter heart
While YOUR life he can digest
I am sickened by the display of false fault of the perverse
I won’t fall prey to your depravity or this ****** up family curse
I know it’s lurking round every corner waiting for me to descend
It's the shadow hounding at my feet and the cycle without end
There’s a needle in my hand
And a bottle of gin on the table
I would smoke this entire bag of ****
If my lungs were able
There are lines drawn out across my mirror
begging for my endless attention
There are hundreds of little jagged pills
That laugh at your impending intervention
There is heaven here
In this ecstasy and elation
Making love to all these drugs
Through oral copulation
It’s not any one of these drugs
That gives way to my endless contradiction
I have found that escaping my pain
Is my only true addiction
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 6:01 PM UTC
The FBI chief, Mr. Comey,
was loved by Trump like his best *****
For he went around hintin'
about emails and Clinton,
making Trump fans excited and foamy.
But then Comey provided reflection
upon Trump aides and Russian connection.
Trump did protest and howl,
stamp his feet and cry foul,
for the tide has turned since the election.
Trump thinks Comey is guilty of slander,
though his Hillary probe raised no dander.
So I guess Trump's excuse
is what's good for the goose
simply does not apply to the gander!
So why Donald Trump am I hounding
through this verse and this poetic pounding?
It's Trump's hypocrisy
that so motivates me
and we're used to it!... That's what's astounding!
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 10:42 PM UTC
Respect my privacy
I tell you a little
which seems like a lot
You gain knowledge
But fall backwards in thoughts
Your questions are lengthy
My answers are short
Sharp like daggers
Long winded I am not
Unless I stare into your eyes
during such occasions as "pillow talk"
I am complicated in the least
My full support is yours to keep
So why the hounding ?
Why are the alarms sounding
at Me ?
Your best friend your lover
Truth be told
From your point of view I see quite clear
In your own way you're portraying
That you care
But RESPECT
my PRIVACY
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
This is the story of Old Man Jenkins
Old, yes, but he never felt that way
If being young meant being corrupt, he’d have no part
Stubborn, he wouldn’t change his ways
He would simply avoid this new perverse world
To keep himself in the good ol’ days
The days when neighbors looked out for each other
When you knew your mailman’s name
When men held the door for ladies
And success didn’t have to mean fame
He reminisced of days when a living was honest
When families had a father and a mother
When talking in person was the best was to talk
And one shirt was as good as another
But oh how they teased him,
They’d say “He’s just an old man”
And they’d compare his brain
To a lone grain of sand
They said he wasn’t modern or up with the times
They said he was ignorant and out of his mind
They would try to make him angry
Hounding him over and over again
But Old Man Jenkins was the gentlest of souls
And returned only a wrinkled grin
You see, he wasn’t mad or crazy
And he minded not their scorn
He had been storing up a better treasure
Since the very day he was born
After he left this world, they realized
They saw how bad they were wrong
They longed to tell him they were sorry
But the time for that had come and gone
It may be myth, but one once said
And others have repeated it since then
That the gentle soul of Old Man Jenkins
Smiled on them with a wrinkled grin.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 7:57 PM UTC
Runaway from those friends that cut you slowly,
They said they'd have you but you're left with nobody,
Runaway from those Hi's, Hello's, and See you later's,
That never amount to anything, Isn't that a funny thing,
They call you fake and a ghost, one of the things you hate most,
All of this criticism is only a realism to themselves,
So **** it, see them in Seven Hells.
Runaway your heart is pounding,
Your family is clouding,
All of your surroundings,
They're always frowning,
Crazy you must be sounding,
Why are they constantly hounding,
Can't they see you're drowning,
But that's fine deal,
We've developed a method to never just feel,
We've constructed a formula to differentiate the faulty from real.
Runaway from the person they told you to be,
Runaway from the past you can't see,
You have to face it, there's no chance of erasing,
The blood and the violence, that's hidden underneath silence,
Nobody knows what's behind closed doors, what's rotting to the core.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 6:23 PM UTC
Examining the accuracy.
Exploring the brightness.
Hunting for certainty.
Inquiring the directness.
Inspecting the lucidity.
Investigating the precision.
Pursuing purity.
On a quest for simplicity.
Researching transparency.
Chasing articulateness.
Frisking comprehensibility.
Going over conspicuousness.
Inquesting a definition.
Rummaging for distinctness.
Scrutinizing the evidence.
Shaking down the exactitude.
On an expedition for explicitness.
Working the legs towards intelligibility.
A perquisition for legibility.
A wild-goose chase for limpidity.
A witch hunt for obviousness.
Interrogating openness.
Probing the palpability.
Prosecuting the penetrability.
Racing perceptibility.
Raiding perspicuity.
Coursing the plainness.
Following the prominence.
Hounding the salience.
Meddling in the tangibility.
Prying into the unambiguity.
Reconnaissance in the cognizability.
Seeking decipherability.
Snooping for explicability.
Sporting limpidness.
On a steeplechase for manifestness.
Studying the overness.
Tracing unmistakability.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
Always hounding and back for more,
I dread the daily task of
mind enslaving work that
is known to ever teenager as “HOMEWORK”.
Homework; that hated name has
the unholy power to make kids like me
crumple in pain from just a page,
and gives the nerds their strength.
I wish for the weekend,
where the normal guy rules supreme,
unhindered by torturous math and history.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:10 PM UTC
Greenfield far far away
In droves luring Africans
Across the foaming flames
Through the Sahara hell
Scaling the stormy Sea.
The sheep in droves
Galloping across the desert
Taking risk in risk, hoping
Till every breath of wants
Dies in want of want.
Many have died
Some are dying
Many will still die
Tell me not why!
Humanity in high flames
Burning in crimson clouds
Coming to outlandish rainbow!
The dead dead!
Would they come back?
To bite the hunchback
Hounding the donkey's back
In search of the greenery.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
Running Blind Madness
Eyes Wide Heart Pounding
Spirit Lifts Senses Live
Theres Thunder IN THE Atmosphere
This IS A Free Arena
A Gateless Auditorium
Open Fields
Open Wide
Forking Lightning ON THE Horizon
This Natural Inebriation
IN Dynamic Resonation
Anticipation OF THE
Consternataion
Hells Beasts Abound
Snarling Snouts Sounding
Heavy Hoofs Pounding
Crazed Dashing Hounding
IN THE Chaos That'S Surrounding
Hells Beasts Abound
Torso'S Writhing Flailing
Grit Bucking Flailing
Crimson Flow Tailing
THE Gore OF THE Impailing
I'M Knee Deep
IN A River OF Blood
Fleshen Heap
IN THE Reddening Flood
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Flesh
Whip AND Turn
Trace THE SKY
With THE Carnal Rain
WET THE Earth
With A Reddened
Stain
Sodden WET Earth
Besot With Death Mirth
Drown THE Earth
IN THE Afterbirth
Every Beast THE ****** Herse
DON'T RID ME OF THE ******* Curse
IN AN Ever Rising River OF Blood
Causing Chaos With NO Remorse
I AM Power IN Full Course
Wreaking Havoc
Sump
WET
Dripppin'
Torn
This Bloods LET BY MY Horn
I'M Sopping WET
MY ****** Horn
I Feel Like I'M NEW Born
Drumming Quakes Pounding
Shaking THE Foundation
Lifting Spirits IN THE AIR
I AM GOD Everywhere
Helter Skelter IN THE Chaos
This IS Pandemonium
Freedom Forms
IN THE Void
Electric Flux Obliteration
Pure Intoxication
AS Evil Incarnation
This Revelation
IS Anihilation
Apr 10, 2021
Apr 10, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
The very walls I built
To keep the clutter out
Suffocate me daily
Shutting me in with my thoughts
Questioning my decisions
testing my patience.
Was I wrong? Or right?
Have I added to my mistakes?
Will I wake up tomorrow?
The burden overwhelms me
I fear that I will give in
To the heartwrenching fear
Of the unknown.
A weight settles on me
Bearing down on my chest
I heave breath after troubled breath
who knows if it's my last?
I prepare myself for death
Sink into nothingness below
For there are no worries
nothing but stillness.
No,I will not let the reaper close
But how to deal with my pain
That is anew everyday
I find fault with the sun and moon
No one to distract me
From these savage insecurities
hounding at my door
am I pretty enough? Strong?
can I do it? Will I succeed?
it seems I am doomed to doubt
Trapped by inequities
and someday I just hope
These walls will be solace
And not my jailer.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC
Hordes of mangled marionettes hoard so many histories of mystery,
That I beg in blank brandishing tongues, hounding the hordes most swiftly.
Because I am a puppet master pioneering such a broad pallet of poetic pleasure,
That surely the most silent shamans will sound their poignant sighs in solitude.
And we've accosted such armies--allied only to destruction,
Only to be found in fruitless dust.
Demons will someday antagonize them in blissful anarchy,
But for now we’ll pass an ancient altruistic remedy
And leisurely lull the pull of destruction.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 9:10 AM UTC
I've tried a lot of things
I've prayed a lot of times
But I'm still terrified of the needle that pierces my veins
Cried and cried
Shut my eyes
Clench my fists
A pain that never seems to quit
Helpful act
Leaving nothing but a dimple
In my brain though, it's not so simple
No child
But I remember
When I was a child
Over and over
Needle after needle
Again and again
Sickness with no end
Stuck with a fear
Bred inside my head
A fight I cannot fight
A threat I will always detect
No neglect
Just a kid who hid the hounding
Behind a sickness with no end
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
the body of the name lying naked on the tongue
the touch of rust
the sunset at the change of the season
the sea coming home to a lonely shore
the lips asking for more, the ears the amorous organs
emptied of echoes, the cities built on bones
from scrambled noise emerges syntax
that conjugates attraction in parallax
and someone or not-one spoke a metonymy of solicitude
in the beginning in the end, in the garden in the ruins
events ever fragile, encounters that were almost nothing
the hounding difference between a thing and a word
between us and us
between the data, the predictions thereof
and the unexpected
that we have not yet learned to trust
the body unspoken, the touch untranslatable
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 5:47 AM UTC
Day by Day the phone calls come,
Day by Day the knocks come on my door,
The Hounds have been released,
Baying for blood,
Baying for the liquid green blood they call theres,
Baying for my hard work,
Baying for the liquid green that i harvested,
That i Worked for,
The Pencil pushing hounds have been released.
Day by day the hounding comes.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC