"knifing" poems
Aimless devotion to discontent deities*
sacrificial offerings crucial for good juju
Altar boys and pages kissing feet for wages
Praying to relics
punishing heretics
Burning,knifing,shooting
Oh for the love of god!
Don't believe
Do believe
Maybe just for acceptance
Penance repentance
Breed a way of thinking
and get many precious berries
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 3:00 AM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
August, the Red Line,
connected tanks
of bolted plastic vertebrae.
Every seat gone except
five rows up, where a sea lion
sprawls across two,
stuffed backpack, yellow jacket
spread out like caution tape.
His grunt a wet bark
at the glow of his screen.
Middle-school deer slip into the aisle,
chatter clipped when the sheriff drifts past,
their ears flicking, smiles bitten shut.
Not a predator- just a gelded ox,
chest puffed, badge sagging, glass-eyed,
chest rig clattering with blanks.
Two lemur-children cling to their tortoise elder,
her shell steady against the sway of the car.
She shepherds them from the surge of riders:
loud Dodger blue parrots in cholo socks,
moth-women with plumed lashes beating the stale air,
a stray dog, gutter musk dragging at its haunches.
And one gray bear
muttering alone,
arguing with her reflection.
Between Koreatown and MacArthur Park,
somewhere the sea begins to breathe again,
then, feathers forcing through my skin-
an alley gull knifing into this clamour,
scavenging inside its exhaust.
The car rattles, its ribs plated with blistered posters:
museum wings open to no one,
‘register to vote’ fading into graffiti script,
flu shots promised by smiling ghosts.
A bruised hatchling staring out beside the words
See something, say something.
The warning lights glow
like eyes hunting in the dark.
From its flanks the train
unfurls iron claws.
They rake
the tunnel walls,
the city’s bones,
the dark itself.
Sep 29, 2025
Sep 29, 2025 at 10:00 PM UTC
Thirty-two. Adventure.
Exotic was the word we felt. You rode beside me, small as we were on rickety
flippant and injured bikes, but it was so dark dark and your hair
your hair was ***** and the lights that neoned over our heads turned into lines and twists
fists of red and blue and green and the bricks were wet, like the dirt on the bottom of your shoes
shoes that we fled in, shoes that slapped water and collided with the pavement
You were just as cunning kniving knifing strafing dodging as I
and our lips cracked smiles of sharp white teeth and we ran
because we were bad, we were motors of deliberate disobedience
our eyes were glazed with dizzy daffodil poppyseed crushed ice and bottles hidden
and the room that was the city sky was spinning
weightless and confused and sure so sure, we broke window after window with rocks
and danced, out of character and space
I took you home late
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
I see it in
shades of
liquid coal
slaking
my aching
thirst in
black ocean shoal
onyx crystals
washed up
in tides
of barely
peeking,
night-lava eyes
silently spoken
and through
the waters of deep
my soul is
waking up from
eons of sleep
weaving garlands
of darkest green,
seaweed tips
that I tenderly keep
strewn, in chlorophyll strips
across the stardust glow
of my naked skin
as I liquid float,
spirit whirring within
eyes bright
in illuminated
moonstone glow
picking up signals
of halted flow
This is needed here,
in this darkest of dark
waters abundant
with tight, broken sparks
shards of the living
and fragments of souls
a luminosity of darkness
making us whole
And pulsing next to me
in beauty's surprise
phosphorescent creatures,
a feast for the eyes
loving, gently brushing
my outstretched fingers-
bioluminescence divine
on my body lingers
from jellies to squid
to jet -hued sharks
knifing through layers
of dark on dark
within the
lush waters' quiet force
a dance in faded flicker
conjures the source
within the depth
of the depths
of my endlessly
wet
in my darkest of dark
between blood and sweat
penetrating the mysteries
that quake through
this heart
filling it up
as it tears it apart
smashing it
to smithereens
creating sutures
of ironic healing
until through the cracks
both wide and slight
shoots up
the flare
of my own
inner
light
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
The Wicked Witch from Woodhaven,
It's quite an obstacle being your offspring.
Never have I been so self hating more when I listen to your heart-knifing words and unsympathetic demeanor.
Undermining my warm and graciousness as if I am some ant just waiting to be burned by sunlight through your magnifying glass,
I pray that some day you will change.
But a person so mentally unstable cannot change,
As you have passed those genes down unto me.
You have me riding some emotional rollercoaster at a carnival that Goblins should attend,
And not the normal, lively human soul.
Thankfully, I've decided to go elsewhere.
But the clowns that you call ailments won't allow me to leave.
I vow to change my ways, aiming to stand up to such an evil and love-deviating woman,
Yet your words freeze me up like your mouth is Antartica,
And your brain is scolding due to your visit to your throne in Hell.
I've suffered many tragedies inside my own mind,
Sad songs that are on repeat.
Carelessness and forgetfulness has brought me to decrease my envy of you.
You've devoured the confidence of your once favorite child for more times than he can count on both hands,
And both feet,
Twice.
I can appreciate the fact that you've raised me,
As it is nearly impossible to raise such a troublesome child.
Though wishing you had never even birthed me in the first,
I hold you responsible to why I am subdued.
Nurture has been long forgotten,
Since I had last treasured it so.
A mother's love is all that is good and holy,
But what is it worth to Satan?
You would know,
Since he is in fact, your creator.
Wicked Witch,
Stubborn *****
How awful these words sound to me.
They come out in frustration as you lead me to temptation,
And insecure I shall always be.
Crotchety old ghoul,
You've treated me like a fool,
For far too long I've counted.
Everlasting therapy is in order,
And forever you and I will be separated,
Separated by a border, That I have built,
In order to salvage some sort of a stable mind.
Kindly accept my creed to await,
The finalizing version of myself.
I've longed for such mortality,
Due to your immorality,
As guardian of my unnatural life.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
darling, i should never
call you that. "darling"- it's
a synonym for everything
i used to feel with you and all
the guilt which follows it. so
badly have i wanted to stop
using it, to stop referring
to you as that, but your
name hurts too much.
darling, did i ever
mention that i traveled to
the moon? because i did,
on a night where the earth
was spinning too quickly that
all the colours bled into one
and the painting made me
***** it's not a kind story
and ever since then, i haven't
been kind either.
darling, what's the
difference between heartache
and dying? i'm tasting flakes
of flaming ash on my tongue
and it's scorched my mouth
so bad i cannot speak everything
i feel (not that i would've
anyway). you're everything
drawn on the back of my
eyelids and everything
knifing my stomach and
everything, oh god,
you're everything.
darling, you're
nothing, you're
absolutely nothing,
you don't mean a thing
to me.
darling, i realise that
seems ironic but i've
never been anything but
that. i've been treading on
the moonlight and inhaling
charcoal and the bullet-wounds
have cracked against
the silence of your
absence.
darling, i think
i'm losing my mind.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
just because your problems are bigger than mine,
doesn't qualify you as being
better than me;
but sure, we need apes, like we might encourage
buying stake at the butchers and
a quasi-Narcissus reflection in Darwin...
that's what happens when presupposing
someone's supposed idiocy, it happens
that way in democracy, without a autocratic godhead
of authority, many more are prone to being
prescribed madness, because being sadistic
with dementia patients and those disabled is all
that more rewarding than when a "patient" can punch
you back, bloody-nose your face...
and this is how Christianity makes sense?
might as well call the adherents of Christianity
children wetting their beds and fuelled by a desire
to maim their fellow examples of the species...
Darwinism will not do... it's a farce...
the animals involved to a categorical grouping
would not do what humans do to each other...
so we evolved from monkey to escape the tiger
and the snake? i hardly think tigers or snakes killed
with sadism involved... for pleasure...
but if the sadistic impulse was always ours...
we evolved for no good reason...
i'd rather experience the hunger of the tiger
or the snake than experience the sadism of a fellow human being...
and that's a humanism, it doesn't invoke a god
or morality that should be kept...
i'd rather a tiger **** me for sustenance than some
trivial bog-standard thief from the London estate knifing me
for a ******* bike... i'd rather end up in a tiger's digestive
system than in the "evolved" court-of-law debating
bicycle theft -
animal-cohesiveness knows no sadism,
human-overpowering of animals knows everything
but humanism, hence the need for humanism per se,
poetry and a novel... we write poetry but at the same time
perform holocausts... if we are evolutionary products,
we are by evolutionary standards a successful paradox...
we contradict the pluses with the negatives we produce
subsequently... we have evolved / transcended
the original parameters... but we did so paradoxically;
i'd still rather die from a tiger easing my death
by the vampire-bite of my neck that
the exfoliation abiding with the electric chair or
the iron maiden... the author of the Bonfire of Vanities
got it wrong... we really did use our imagination...
we used imagination for the expression of torture...
Disney can do **** all than quack like a duck
to quiet simply approve the endemic continuance
of the practice... because most people will
simply apply for t.v. and come dine with me
spectaculars.
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
I have lost it
That wonder that seasons bring
The merriment of Santa hats and childish elven ears
Jack knifing into the harder edge of happy
Where humor lies in irony
And frosts numb the grinching bitter pill that is my
Reality
The sleigh bells ringing
The Christmas story pinching pennies
Across the retail maw that is a nation
I tend to feel like that man haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past
Where I felt cherished as a child does when they know they are loved
Not used like meat flesh to thwart the hungry mob of customers
Whom think me less human
For working a dead job
But even I whom spits in the face of too sweet liars
Could not help but smile
When bright eyed children
Gaze in awe
That fat red man and silver beard
This old gaffer could not help but cheer
When little girls get earrings for the first time
And boys conquer driveways with plastic tires
And even more
For I know that despite my humbug
And all my ****** off jeers
He will open that door
And I like a child will stare in awe
When my love comes home for Christmas
The one thing I have wanted
Maybe I had been good after all!
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
“Well if the shoe fits.”
And it never does,
either too tight or too loose,
with my paint-thinner feet,
narrow, knifing through the canvas
heels flopping out at the back
toes mashing together at the front,
pacing between shelves at the store,
growing anxious mom impatient
in the waiting chair,
shifting between sizes,
walking prison-style with shoes zip-tied,
a second, third opinion,
salesclerk gets out the foot measure,
I take my socks off,
put them back on (are they too thick/too thin?)
feet either mashed or cavernous
if the salesclerk crouches down and presses a thumb at the end
and gives me an okay sign
I’ll walk around with ****** toes and bruised heels the rest of my life
because only others can convince me what my body truly feels
because mental illness is impalpable and therefore
unbelievable
and broken bones and black eyes
will perpetually surpass what lingers in my troubled mind
for I know not what the body wants (it’s *** I think)
no,
I don’t know how it’s supposed to act,
or feel,
so I can let someone else decide for me,
as I let mom order my Happy Meals,
and buy my clothes she picked out,
and tell me what kind of girls I like,
and make my doctors’ appointments,
and file my taxes,
and pay my bills
(I just give her the money),
and I am convinced my body and mind
do not exist on the same plane,
and whatever signals they send each other
I render skewed
and the messenger disabled
and tonight I told mom
the shoes I’ve worn for five days straight
don’t fit
and my feet hurt
and she sighs and laughs simultaneously alongside the family
as she hands me the number to the store
and I halfheartedly wish
she’d make the call
or lean down and press a thumb
to the end of my shoe
and convince me it fits.
--Home, August 19, 1:41 AM
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 2:21 AM UTC
I've traveled through outer space,
sat buckled to the seat,
daydreamed
with aliens all around.
The outside domain was a blur,
I rode supersonic steel
knifing lush countryside
between chasms
of skyscraper structures.
I tried to decipher
the language of such folk,
who seemed unfazed by my jokes.
Their gaze, the same slant,
followed my every move,
I felt like an un-caged freak,
myself an alien
in a future-world
riding bullets.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
You want to see my demons you say,
Fighting daily to keep them at bay.
I daren't loose control,
For my words are powerful
A spell to be-hold.
My demons are held locked away.
For once unlocked like Pandora's box.
You want to see my demons come out you scream?
I pity you for the words unseen.
I can make you feel two inches tall,
non the less you continue to squall.
to mark my mind in agony,
The screams coming from inside.
If I let them out you will go running away.
Continuing the battle in my soul,
I look at you and loose control.
My words knifing away,
You continue to bellow.
I start to tell you.
A horrific person you are.
Using me for ****** conductivity,
Money making ambiguity.
You want me to be your slave
In many,many ways.
Once you put your hands on me,
my demons came out and backed you against a wall.
I could not breathe.
I started to fall.
The void took hold as I listened to my words.
I hate you.
In reality it was the truth coming out.
Constant anger pushed aside
My words continued to lash to the skies.
You hurt me in more then one way.
Thank Goddess my kids weren't here this day.
You told me I was nothing without you,
The only one who cared.
These demons flashed
but not in fear.
The strength I had to walk away.
For your pitiful display.
I turn around mocking you.
Do you have any clue what my words can do?
I turn to you and sadly say,
I fought these demons,
day by day.
Now the words in a continuous flow,
my anger has started to get out of control.
I started yelling
I back away.
I hate the words you say to me.
I look at you and remember
I was nothing.
So hear these words loud and clear.
I am no more your puppet on a string.
I am no more a lover,
you do not deserve me
I am no more your maid.
Go find your mummy.
I am no more
tamed.
You will live a life of misery,
You will live the rest of your days,
for love will never find you.
If you don't change your ways.
Empty and alone is how you shall remain.
Once you find happiness,
May the God's take it away.
I am not crazy,
I am a Pagan,
I believe in my Gods'
And I know you will dissipate.
For all the things you have done to me.
You will eventually see.
Like a wild horse
never to be tamed.
I look at you
and walk away.
You begged for my demons to come out to play.
Now you cry and ask me why?
Why would I say such hurtful things.
Because all you asked was for my demons to play.
Now you want me to go away.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 1:44 PM UTC
If there were, I'd be there
spread amongst bread crumbs...
knifing butter
smearing will,
watching the bag close,
sealed with a date...
If there were, I'd be there
rebuilding faith amongst the masses...
chanting profanity;
a sincere smile,
watching the procession,
opened with a kiss skyward...
If there were, I'd be there
leading with a howl...
eating the body
in fancy fur,
ever lusting.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 12:17 PM UTC
Colargrins
I pull daggers from my sinking heart, liquefy blades, and splash back in spades upon the staggering departure of my starts.
Ill finish even with a diminished will.
Im not always first, but **** it in the last minute in nervous fidgeting of my reality rippling through residual hauntings of the feel of the feeling of your reeling in the excitement.
Dauntingly, flaunting, the alarming charm of tongue, eniticing the romantic knifing of lungs, in spent breaths, confessed of the love of truth.
Rasp out the hiss, as whisps of winds licked from jackals lips.
Whip the words in willful waning of the facts.
Aim to ****
Ill just Relax to the drop of the ax
Im a ridiculous idiot
Meticulously breaking it down to absolutes, in my astute fickleness.
Lustily finding finesses in the regrets of others, smothering prideful chuckling of chummery in distractive strumming of the nothings, shielding the view of this place, changing the hue of my face in the light.
Step away from the light
You dont wanna see what lurks within the night
My lackluster mustering is the recipe for disaster.
Ill just master the disguise, with too much time, miles of smiles, lies, and cold hand shakes that imply my maniacal despise.
Hi!
Nov 22, 2012
Nov 22, 2012 at 2:58 AM UTC
Feet bare, barring caution
Cries shrill to the good folk-
My- my dog- have you seen him?
Grasping the evaporating shoulders of passerby
-Haven't seen him. I think he's in the ocean. Have you-"
Each soul turns, vanishes like a noonday specter.
Feet slap down the splintering boardwalk
Sand, sand, dark sand, rush of foam, knifing cold-
WHERE ARE YOU-
She lifts the waves like blankets
Buries beneath them under
the hush of salt
and...
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
*Mew mew
Pussycat cries at night
Closed doors
There isn’t warmth at sight
Mew mew
Is there any kind soul
Crackling fire burning coal?
Mew mew
Under open sky
Like pussycat many more lie
For them is spread no bed
On pavement dream tomorrow’s bread
Mew mew
Cold night’s curse
Doors shut no kind soul
Far up blinking stars
Glow like burning coal
Noses in blissful snore
Won’t ever get to feel
The misery preying outdoor
The knifing ruthless chill
Mew mew
Not awake one kind soul
Doors are all shut tight
Crackles no fire in burning coal
Pussycat cries for end of night*
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
In carnage memories mourn their loved ones
Rage boils over the top of the cooking ***
And genocide fits only the ideologies mad men
People
Are not
Good
To each other
We
Create policies
Supporting a mind
So twisted
So dark
So far gone
The only
Light to
Reach it is
A spark from
A gun of
A Revolution
How did humanity grow so weak
To turn so quickly to hate through violence?
How does humanity not see in the
Flickering eyes of the dead our communion?
How does humanity not feel the screams
That echo silently below our trembling feet?
The past
Is now present
The fight
Has a new face
Bullets are
Pixilated
Transformed
Ordered &
Backordered
On sale at
Half - Price
When bought
In Bulk
There is no message
That has not yet
Been said
There have been marches,
Rallies, songs, poems,
Dances, deaths, burnings, battles,
Readings, money making, publishing,
Shooting, knifing, bleeding, gouging,
And destroying all in the name
Of the message
And as the naked children
Of Eden weep -
Their home once flourishing,
Flagrant, lined with grass speckled
With crystalline dew -
Smells now of smoldering
Grey plumes of poisonous maroons
We,
We humanity,
Show no shame
In our pressed suits
Or clear magazines or golf carts
Or gold plated teeth
We have forgotten
Humanity
For the pleasure
Of our own
Selfishness stinks
Like diamonds
And fresh bread and
Nail Polish
Time
Does not
Care for
Us
Yet we
Care so deeply
For It
Time cares for us
Like we care
For the ant
Or the fly who buzzes
And we swat away
Without hint of an emotion
The wind blows
As the first rain of
Spring starts to sprinkle
On the cobble stones
Of a city spared
For their branded cowardice
The eyes blink
The clouds dissolve
The moon cracks for
One last time
As the
Fading music
In a
Near-by cafe
Comes to a dry
Empty
Silence
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
Dim light settles
Mahogany wood shines
Marked with scars
Showing old use.
The velvet curtain opens
Soft music plays
They watch with bated breath
What they see is not what they expect.
She draws in air
Deep into her lungs
Listening for her moment
And so she begins.
Soft steps taken hesitantly
Ankles flex and point at the ground
Calves stretch, the leg extends
Knifing an arc through the air.
The torso twists
Bending elegantly
It writhes and moves
To its own melodious pain.
Tendons move
Joints stretch
An extended hand
Sweeps to heaven.
She leaps and twirls
She jumps and dances
Like she's all alone
With moonlight for company.
The notes reach a faster pace
Racing against time
Her leg as taught as a stretched rubber band
Curving in towards the knee
Arms forming a barrier
On one toe she begins to spin.
Behind the grace and elegance
Behind the layer of sweat-soaked skin
Lies withering beauty touched by pain
A rose the shade of violent red
Chained by its own thorns
Enslaved to the pinpricks of red.
What will happen
When the melody reaches its crescendo
When the rose blossoms and thorns extend
When the dance of roses reaches its end?
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
.
Lear wanders in stormy open, bares warring elements,
The heavens blister, crackle, night is balmy shroud,
Wretched monarch babbles in sprinkles of wind cold,
Arguments lost by ones own pouring perturbations
And raining sky said 'nothing will come from nothing.'
Howl, howls into blackness treed in lightning splits,
His outcast soul, reels, fleshed, cut to smithereens,
Tang of salt burns on the bluffs and the sea rages,
So entire and ceremonious is Lear's fall meted out,
Air spoke, 'nothing from nothings ever yet was born.'
Sky proclaimed to man child King, here is a reckoning,
Each mad choice was self infliction, now wind flays
And sweet Cordelia lies in her innocent **** grave,
Sky, in thralls of thundering asks, 'what say thee now,
King of highborn follies, even purple heaths are rags,
Yet black and above you and night shades, whine,
Unworthy King, done in by compounded effects,
The might of maelstroms in low butterflies wings,
How now, bare trees, knifing reeds, skeletal flashes,
To rains of night are ever your lanyards my lord,'
Sad Lear so near oblivion fell mute, sky went on,
'Howl and cry mad King your reaper calls beyond,
The icy brisk heavens await to brusque you away,
Your slipshod kingdom was mere and fools' dream,
Howl, til howls abrupt abate, for nothing now comes.'
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
driving through traffic
knifing back and forth between lanes
flooring it to the end
slamming on the brakes before the cliff eats him
surrounded by other people
he quakes,
vision blurs,
blackens,
then red
with a sweep of his arm
he could remove them all
waiting for the time to come
when the walls they worked so hard on
crumble into dust
lost in the sands of time
and the monsters on the outside
come in
and thin the herd
he waits for that moment
in dark apartment bedroom
or in smoking sections
and coffee shops across the land
that smile is the reaper's sickle
gums ******
stomach grumpy
eyes reduced to darkened slits
maybe one day
they'll forget what a day is
and he is patiently waiting
behind a camel and a bottle
he waits for the music of all things
to fade into a warm
comfortable
silence
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
Lying on my chest the heart beat of a hummingbird
Love and Passion Incarnate
A Seraphim with ***** Wings
The Open Box of Pandora
and all that one and a million talk
High frequency modulation betwixt
the souring doves of ecstasy
and the rain No! halberd hail!
Knifing the streets and back alleys of Brooklyn
on the subways again I recognize the worst of myself
in the lush of my Yin
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC