"leprous" poems
The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
And the harpies of upper air,
That flutter and laugh and stare.
For the village dead to the moon outspread
Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
Where the rivers of madness stream
Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.
A chill wind blows through the rows of sheaves
In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
For harvests that fly and fail.
Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
And looses the vast unknown.
So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.
And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And brood with the shades unblest.
Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penned,
For the hounds of Time to rend.
12k
Moist, moist,
the heat leaking through the hinges,
sun baking the roof like a pie
and I and thou and she
eating, working, sweating,
droned up on the heat.
The sun as read as the cop car siren.
The sun as red as the algebra marks.
The sun as red as two electric eyeballs.
She wanting to take a bath in jello.
You and me sipping ***** and soda,
ice cubes melting like the ****** Mary.
You cutting the lawn, fixing the machines,
all htis leprous day and then more *****
more soda and the pond forgiving our bodies,
the pond ******* out the throb.
Our bodies were trash.
We leave them on the shore.
I and thou and she
swin like minnows,
losing all our queens and kinds,
losing our hells and our tongues,
cool, cool, all day that Sunday in July
when we were young and did not look
into the abyss,
that God spot.
2.5k
It should’ve been Bagan –
she always loved Bagan,
Myanmar.
look, woman.
I am a dog outside your home,
overwrought and disarmed,
hunting for bones.
inverse moon over Pasig
tonight and I am on
my 4th bottle of beer already,
barking without teeth.
raged behind the typewriter
with nothing but a visibly
veiled waiting
this stance so
obscure,
so absurd
like the abrupt life
of candle-flame.
I was the lover
and you cared for flame:
now the fire is dead
and there is nothing left
for the sea to lambast,
erased by the shores of feel.
symphonies out on the streets
like leprous children scrunched deep in
the mire of the streets for alms.
it is now my 5th bottle
and I **** on the stone-gnome
in my mother’s lawn
and she will know of the reek
of this pungent disbelief – scorn me for
my heavy drinking
but what is a man to do
when he
is as destroyed
as
the morning
outside?
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
He flew,
far from the plumed flock,
above the vast stretch of sands,
over crags and boulders.
flew into forlorn uncharted lands,
into the lure of the unknown,
searching for a tree to perch.
a temporary haven in encircling fetters,
a home away from home.
seeking comfort where none exists.
Saw the twilight nibbling at,
the blazing brightness,
from the sinking sun.
an orb of orange red.
a tad too naughty to tame,
playing out its remaining moments.
Nowhere within eyeshot,
a crown of supine leafy green,
propped firm on poles of brown,
shooting out into the darkened sky.
nor the whirr of nocturnal moths,
leaving the hide of leprous barks.
Like a kite at the beck of winds,
slipped out from the controlling grip,
with the string hanging loosely down,
he swayed and tossed in boundless blue.
below lay the abysmal depths,
and sand dunes forming cancerous lumps.
The sun that sank into roaring depths,
left not even a glint of light,
unable to hold on to a willed direction,
and passing through the Stygian sky,
he knew his body growing heavy,
felt the ache in every limb,
and the wings, losing their power to soar
x x x x x x
The descent was far too abrupt,
rudderless and reeling,
he dropped down,
like a missile, blasted out,
and none heard the fierce thud!
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC
I have washed my ****** hands
in the hope colored stream
of my own karma;
a futile attempt.
The waters cleansed my hands
But stained my soul with
The leprous audience of
The singularity of my being.
I have waded souldeep
Into the stained waters
Of my own karma;
A quantum baptism.
My sins and triumphs
My denials and truths lain bare,
Visions which burn into the circle
Of all that I was, am, and yet to be.
I have become the hope colored water
Of my own floundering fate.
I am the circle, the enigma;
I stand within and without.
I encompass myself
And wait to be born
Into a new solitude
Of radiant wonder.
Feb 18, 2011
Feb 18, 2011 at 4:57 PM UTC
We are the eternal marriage
Of blood and mind.
The saints in their rapture
Ne'er held eyes as sweet
Nor hands that unearthed a homecoming.
But I, lost among the found
Stranger in A strange land
Have but the dawn to spin for your veil
And each star forged in the host of man,
Will take your cheek only to gift a kiss
Upon your lips.
With surf stained sigh
These are the dreams
In which I sink
And tomorrow you will think of me,
And tomorrow you will think of me
As I remember
These leprous hands
Which once danced in
Carfuné
Betraying a dream.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
A beast,
only a little frightening, a little wicked.
Only as much as possessed
by demons in Scotland.
I don't know if it was just
the cocaine-induced acid-psychosis,
or if we really swapped lives,
and shared with Burroughs in the Sahara.
In any case,
we share the joke of sacrificing children
in repetitious ritual.
We fiends, we leprous pariahs,
who know too much to be safe,
and too little to be truly dangerous.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Ubermensch gone doggy between your legs,
a minute heathen, incensed prophet, whose
last rites scatter.
Moth-ornate tome in a terrible scream, whose
barbed print appeals to what lucid interval
gains thee.
Heights to take as lovers, brain's genitalia in
a bunch.
Meridians frolic in arms risen, hence, hence--
crushed tumult in touch.
An infectious groveling that other may see,
take hold.
Odd aphrodisiac, you--human half, halved,
halved and halved.
Penumbra, split-screen vision of Zion, come--
I came, I implore with birthright.
A studious damnation leaves us a leprous
expose, eye-candy as sweet as sacrament.
Skies sent and returned gone swamp-green,
can't you feel the interplanetary squelch that's
bound us?
Strange...fool of chills, hunched with electrified
hair come I, full of longing, barren.
Let us decipher one another, break judgement
over our knees, and caress one another's
downturned eyes.
Let us have a look at one another till we become
worldwide, let us perfect our immoderation.
Konstantinos Mark
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
potpourri of stale disheveled grasses,
arcane and forbidden mouse holes, and masses
of leprous bristlecone pine, acid atmosphere, of venus.
sweltering, permeates gold, naked, anti-shade crevice;
torn from digested fence to digested fence.
a seething sneer in the canopy, turbid herb scents
(of spring, or morning, or rain, have since
been mumified to accompany summer’s rescindment).
and ground-dwellers, caterwauling, as this eutrophic sea
is the ulcerated stomach of a carnivorous beast.
lust drives the ferocious field,
scorching as automotive steel.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
The tears are dropping in the depths of their hearts
Unseen they fall into weary worlds apart
From the lives that they live with rifles and war
Bloodshed and horrors into their growing bones bore
And fused into their youth
is the poisoned embrace of slavery
that beats them and slays them
with no hope to be free
Decaying their heart,
a burned leprous scaled refuse
no one to save them
with nothing to gain or lose
So tonight when you tuck your daughters in to sleep
The beautiful precious children that God has given you to keep
O appointed leader, help restore to life
the children who are dead, but have not yet died
Please our great leader
Do something for them
Reach out your strong hand
and the bars of oppression bend
Aug 18, 2010
Aug 18, 2010 at 5:11 PM UTC
For the first time,
I thought I had found
Solace in you!
But you were no better than,
The devil reincarnated
The one who finally turned my life,
Into wretched tormented living hell hole
When sit to think
I regret the first day
I saw you
Spoke to you
And even collected your number and know your name
I knew I shouldn’t have listened to the voice inside my head
And shouldn’t have been deceive by your beauty
But should have just left you alone
That moment my hearth began to love again
It turns out
There is no heart again to love
Only a stone that pumps blood
And I need no donor
This who I am
Because of you I am,
Worse than a leprous beggar on the street
Saw your place
And I came for you to relieve me of this curse
And torment you placed on me
But it turns out that mother nature have taken her course on you
So I am learning how to face the reality
And live with this curse and torment
My reward for loving you
STONER FOR LIFE
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
in this walk, I am solitary
it comforts me.
this leprous condemnation, my dearest heart
….has me bridled.
a noble sacrifice, please understand.
i see your face in the silvering, not my own.
shimmering, gazing, smiling at me
~ rachael hays 16J15
Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
*"...I awaited Death's sweet knife
and bared my jugular vein
without fear, without dread,
I offered my dreams, I offered my joy,
I knew you, I knew you not,
Here, take me, cage me.
You silent Angel with a bittersweet sting,
I am afraid of your kiss no longer.
You, the winged reaper of souls,
I want to see you when you seize hold of my soul
and put it in a small cage
and fly with it to a place I know not where.
I want to see that golden sparrow that they say flies
from our noses as we depart this leprous life.
Come, my dread Angel,
Let us two dance under the cool shade,
The clouds above us dripping wet with moonlight,
The wind aches with the pain of ages,
And see how the misty night yet burns
with the glow of my fast fading soul..."*
©Rangzeb Hussain
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 1:36 AM UTC
Winter draws closer day by day,
Autumn leaves are around my feet
From far, is heard
The screeching of a lone bird,
Voicing its dismay aloud
Over the advancing fall
Here the moss scrawls
Ugly pictures on the bark of trees
Where black spiders weave their gossamer
Moving, sig sag across the trees’ leprous trunks
I see the yellowing leaves
Torn down from their sturdy limbs
Sliding down noiselessly one by one
And landing on the ground
With a mournful sound
Acorns from the pine trees drop
And swell the ground and fall to sleep
Life too takes a downward spiral
I feel the autumn seeping into me
And my heart feels a languid grief
The days of my youth
Seem to fly away in a flurry
Like autumn leaves whirling in the gale
Reminding us, that we are not here to stay
The withered leaves
Which shriek and screech under my feet
Recall to me the cry of martyred youth
And all tenacity overthrown
Like them, we too will fall and be dead to the world
Wrapped in frozen silence, forgotten by all
And ****** back into primal void!
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
My dad is a leprous powdery-white cord of rot
that draws out of my throat lisping past tonsils
through the spaces in between the teeth.
All my life I wait for him to remove himself from me,
only to bite down as the last inches are about to pass
from my mouth.
He almost escapes - I swallow hard,
suppress the gag reflex:
he remains within me.
May 6, 2011
May 6, 2011 at 6:03 PM UTC
Classic trepidation, stationary with the aura of
Coincidence, slit myself and call it skyward thinking
Sinking feelings that argue for a sudden resignation
Conscientiousness, leprous and typesetting
Intimate knowledge that I disclose verbatim cannot, and should not, ever be used against me.
Interest infected through wavelengths, non responsive partly cause of the rupturing that's been running through my dreams.
Scant as fixes to the problems, overblown and oft forgotten, lisping when I speak of this Epiphany.
Taxidermist furnish houses, howling wolves that get devoured, sounds like God and hell and them finally worked out peace.
Just cosmetic, slightly pathetic the ease at which the mind elapses
Classics retconned till nothing's left except the years of influence
Invested in the melancholy, snobs lobbyist and in distant memories
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
I can't talk with my mouth full of water
But I'll try
What are you doing here?
I would have thought you'd be
Dry, bare bones by now
I'd come to terms with the memory
Filed and stored it in a dusty chamber
Where it's power could not hurt me
Anymore
Sealed in a strong locked box
I thought I had mastered the anger
That I'd dominated it through the tears of others
Though it had eaten me
To leprous skin and bone
Forgiveness seemed easy
When you were so far away
Because I wanted to love you so badly
But now you're back
Your own anger almost dwarfing mine
Your own tears, earned honestly
Though not half as innocently as my own
And you're still repeating your mantra
I will never forget
Your message, your signal flare
Something you needed me to know
With all the urgency of confession
(As if that were an excuse)
"My nerves are shot
My nerves are shot
My nerves are shot
My nerves are shot"
You always had a knack for stating the obvious
Until today I had managed
To squelch that ridiculous chanting
But here you are again
Showed up almost out of a dream
Needing a sponge
To soak in your rage
(None of my doing)
Begging me to stitch your heart back together
(I haven't the surgeon's skill)
Punching holes in walls
(.....)
Getting your knees *****
Asking for miracles
Expecting me to pull them off
Ultimately disappointed
Hallucinating power for me to wield
Not realizing
That my back had already been broken
By the same sad world
That broke yours
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
"The Body Eclectic"
Sons and daughters of the cosmos we stand
touched together light vibrations
adherent
Space emanating consciousness
consciousness emitting space
one cause
without contradiction
Effect arises and becomes
co-creator shaper
and shaped
roiling to laws
self born
Gravity not other separate but
one side view of me you
rock the heavens
coiling together emptiness
to forms transient
moving no stopping
of the process flow exists
wonderment continual
Words but crippled leprous fingers
pointing tool only don't get lost
seeing the path as
God Journeys End Reality
Metaphors i write crafting melody
perhaps some may hear
this effort for my own progress
to i don't know where
a here now out
of the mirror
In the beginning naught
but the naught void
not even rays
clear light
no need
all is all in all
What is past present comprehension
happens none the less
human views unneeded
for genesis gnosis
that which is began
begins
omniscience fading fast
under wavelets minuscule
almost not
Bump bump cling bump bump cling
physics births itself
space time sentience
primordial wisdom
one step down up sideways in
ten directions expanding growth
nothing happening
out of the ordinary
Miracle a name for beauty
not comprehended
i you we fish elephants
star
One by one no such thing
separate a myth
invented
Oscillations stream genes
now are
before weren't
again will not be
Particles particles
ever new particles
fabricate particles
waves
Us the body eclectic
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
Just because I think it would be a beautiful
idea if Trump & Bannon could be strapped
down in a Rocket aimed for the outer
reaches of the infinite starry galaxies
doesn't mean I wish them gone,
& just because I'd love to see Julian Assange
work the mines in the deepest bowels of
the high Ecuadorian mountains
doesn't mean I wish him ill,
& just because I'd be so satisfied by Mitch McConnell
pimped out on a Detroit street in mid-winter
while his man keeps an eye-out from a
warm & very smooth cadillac nearby
doesn't mean I wish him a tough evening,
& just because I'd be real chuffed to see Paul Ryan
in all his 'What Me Worry' shallow smile
earnest do-gooder front be flown to Calcutta
as shock-therapy & made to clean the wounds
of leprous beggars,
doesn't mean I'm sensing justice,
& just because I really am down with that oh so
sincerely evil David Duke being forced to perform
street cleaning duties in darkest Baltimore
doesn't men I'm feeling righteous,
& just because I'm very, very o.k. with the idea &
then the actual practice of some sort of natural
justice doesn't mean I'm being unrealistic,
a dreamer, or need to relax awhile.
These are my dreams folks.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
Oh please let this be a dream
Lord I know you hear my screams,
Free me from my thoughts.
Lord they're around the corner,
Lord they're under the bed.
Lord why did I allow the demons to be fed?
I should have taken you as my guide.
Lord wash me with your blood,
Lord be my sole supply,
But Lord I really want to die.
But....
Your love is stronger than my thoughts, more persistant than the demons.
Lord I believe you can tame this monster, for you have cured the leprous and healed the blind.
Lord I believe you can lengthen my time.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
I remembered the deal made,
with the seer beneath the trees.
How careless my words chosen
in my haste amidst the weeds:
("Move my wife instead,
away from this evil thing,
and I will go, and I will slay it,
then return my wife, I plead.")
Would the seer place her in bed
if I slay this royal beast,
or is the white already dead?
...surely knows The Queen.
I felt frostbite creeping in,
through my leather-booted feet.
"Aye." I said, and paused
for the shiver 'cross my skin.
"The hands of winter are the cause
I will place my life in.
The Queen is gone from stead,
with her magic to hide in,
and I'm left with naught but bedsheets,
and a corpse to confide in.
I'll play your game, Rumpelstiltskin,
as though there were choice to begin,
but let me assure you, leprous horror,
I will do anything to win,
for my land is green and white;
I fear the desert's din."
Words ran from the mouth of decay:
"Let us start."
I stood beside the bed,
afraid to do my part.
Trepidation overtook me
as I gave into the art.
As you may have well guessed,
Rumpelstiltskin took my heart.
Rotted fingers worked their way
between the spaces of my ribs.
Infection spread, from ***** digits,
seeking new places to live.
The gnarled knuckles
rubbed and scraped,
like a bony dungeon shiv.
I felt his hand puncture my lung,
and I had no more breath to give.
I think maybe I died,
or maybe fell asleep.
I had visions,
dark and deep,
and dreams of evil things:
Nov 2, 2017
Nov 2, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC