"maledictions" poems
Preponderant enchantments written
With dawns bereft tears
Of a hircine mendicant
Upon a necromantic acorn
Thirsting times wild-wize monition
During a week of sundays
Atide sins wake awash
Clarities purification.
Natures immure debt drawing
Maledictions masterpiece,
Leys bane web mercifully mirroring
Obsidian sibilant eyes
Peccably prenouncing the portent
Languid whisper inquisitorially;
Heavens augumented vestments
Distinguishable amid eternities
Pensive shade as thuriferous
Hallowed tombs loom black
As ink, somewhere that was
Thought to be void far between
The dark hour anchoring the
Fractured talisman of loves memoirs.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 11:49 AM UTC
Bird against the night,
White fingertip against
A negative held up to light.
Whisper, soft by definition,
Work your maledictions
So I have something to react to.
The way you talk it would seem
Those words have been
Asleep for years. I’d
Hardly want you to
Strain- sprain anything.
Spring it on me,
Show the Bruce Lee
Of your larynx. Strike
Me or smite me, bury
Your fist and pronounce
That solar syllable before-
Before the storm cedes.
We’ve all been waiting for
The blue flick, the
Clear blur, the handle
Toward your hand. Spit
It into the light. I don’t
Really care, I just need it out.
Cut around it anymore
And you might inadvertently
Break the clouds. It’s a cheap
Trick but it’s all I ever had
Over you.
Night bloodies the beach.
A moral goes unheard like
An ignored spectator.
Mar 20, 2010
Mar 20, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination.
Winds that billow in bellows of blue balderdash,
that hides these vague souls in the elephant grass,
as white horses run for an unconsecrated pass;
I sit sipping lightning from a small green flask.
I cannot see beyond this collision of cataracts,
sitting in a puddle of Alzheimer's and absent facts,
hard to predict parlor tricks' and posthumous pacts,
metamorphosis of those we ****** on, lies intact.
Veins constricted from catastrophes and contradictions,
synapses sinewed by audacious biannual addictions,
misdemeanors of malicious misnomers and maledictions,
breathing in the beneficent bleating of benedictions.
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
A second with the fire in my hand.
Can I honestly walk away without an
Ocean in tow?
I see. It's “no.”
Belt out arms to whip the ******* sky.
Ever impartial.
Ever my surrogate for its emptiness
My scream tucked neatly inside.
What kind of god would curse me
With knees? Damnation is a collapse--
Fling my neck without breath to
The sea of the earth and pant
Out sacrificial smoke.
I see it snow.
The earth prays for me.
Delicate soil casts up vigilantly the
Orisons I will not. I've murdered them
On the doors of my mouth. The key,
Keys are maledictions;
Are devilish devotions to destroy
With wine-soaked fruit.
Cast it away after the first sin.
O, felix culpa, I walk to the
Dawn to meet you
Tasting it ever on my lip.
Feb 6, 2010
Feb 6, 2010 at 7:01 PM UTC
Everything is wrong until it’s not.
With your temperament, the world around you
and all that you’ve got invested in this life,
it is all going to rot, and the more
worms eat away the more you detest
so busily detesting that you forgot
that everything is wrong until it’s not.
Everything is wrong until it’s not.
People queuing to put their voting slip
into the ballot slot are inwardly complaining,
about whomever and what are they plan
to do and how they’ll explain, nothing is plain,
and thinking in plain terms, you forgot
that everything is wrong until it’s not.
A heart fails to start, no cry in the operation room.
Occupied by just I, this is less a home than tomb.
Maledictions in the curtain, heard from the floor.
Contradictions make uncertain what I knew before.
They pass away, pass us by, the past is left unresolved.
They disappear and go missing, cases still unsolved.
Everything is wrong until it’s not.
You thought you had it under control but now
you’ve lost the plot, you’ve lost your map and
X marks the spot and you’re selling out,
dropping out, ready to snap, you snap
at the world, it snaps back, and you forgot
that everything is wrong until it’s not.
Nothing is alright.
Life’s an endless fight.
It’s that or flight--
and the war was all around you
but the last gunfire is shot.
The bullet goes right through.
So you just keep on going too
and now somehow, despite
that on your back there’s a spot
you swear was put there: targeted
and misled and kept up all night
with voices in your head blaming you
aiming for you when you’re in full sight-
This war will all seem so contrite
When you stop placing blame,
and everything is alright.
In the operation room, the baby cries.
Anticipating doom, you told yourself lies.
You won in the end, after so many tries
You begun, in the end, to see the sunrise.
There are some things we’ve yet to realise.
Each realisation brings a surprise-
You fought so long and took on a lot
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
As hot as...
those eyes when he sees
almost predatory
always do they genuflect
upon their roughened knees
a sordid kind of scene
obscene / unsanitary
craven cries to Loki
for pleasures
****** writhing /
feeding fists
sweat of the easy / a quickened fix
men with members stiff as petrified
sticks / jabbing in a hastened mix
teeming muscles / hungry hips
like electrified evenings of swollen eels
sustained by suckling Gamorra's ****
fiending always
for the slick and the harsh
crystalline mist / he is undoubtedly marked
by the unquenchable blue fire
of his lust / afflicted addictions,
never will he tire - incessantly
defined by sex's maledictions
I grow hot like sunlight
bright - even in the darkest mires
he's an unmatched lover in satin flight,
a dragon / a well-endowed sire
formiddable in succulence / remiss of sight
i weep without regret when
once i followed him toward the night
forgot what i was and
accept what i am,
endure in all burning light
fueled by the sword of Pan
love keeps me warm
as he keeps me lit
i am reborn / magnificent
a forlorn phoenix
omniscient
songs for his careful choir
i am one chosen - truth among liars,
i fly above / kite toward the sun
this is what I am / what i was
this is what i've become
then a willful puppet
without inhibiting wires
still my love will never tire
transformed by lost desires / hot as blue fire
this is who i've become
i am the light of the rising sun
The Lion of kingdom come...
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
By the good grace of the gods, those who have dared to taint my face with a welt, shall receive divine punishment - and not by those who are deemed mighty high above or the denounced who dwell at a plane below mantle and core. But by me, solely me, without maledictions or the intangible, me. Smote by my might. I am not a dictator, nor a man filled with ill-intent, though my words will be carved upon stone and actions dignified in blood. For me to be assaulted in such a haphazardly manner. As a conclusion to you actions know that death is your prometheus, death to your people, death to your land, death to your cattle. My violence exceeds the confines of your cranium, in a similar fashion my anguish extends across the lands; it will agonisingly, crucifying in arduity, mundane if it has to chase and chastise you to the proverbial end of the world. So, to whatever omnipotence you pray to (or do not), it is futile, you will be reprimanded and dealt with promptly, death to all those you love, death to the vermin you shelter in your home by the vignette oil-lit-lamp and the capacious pillow you so pompously lay your head. -
death to you.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 9:16 AM UTC
Let us sing of your sorrow over our glasses
Until all your past has been cleaned of the dust
Taken out for a walk and sat down in good trust
Even the darkest maledictions can be assets
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
As hot as...
those eyes when he sees
almost predatory
always do they genuflect
upon their roughened knees
a sordid kind of scene
obscene / unsanitary
craven cries to Loki
for pleasures
****** writhing /
feeding fists
sweat of the easy / a quickened fix
men with members stiff as petrified
sticks / jabbing in a hastened mix
teeming muscles / hungry hips
like electrified evenings of swollen eels
sustained by suckling Gomorra’s ****
Fiendishly always
for the slick and the harsh
(Left over bits)
From the crystalline he is undoubtedly marked
by the unquenchable blue fire
of his lust / afflicted addict
never will he tire - incessantly
defined by sex's maledictions.
I have grown hot like sun’s fiery light,
bright - even in the darkest mires
he's an unmatched lover in satin flight,
a dragon / a well-endowed sire
formidable in succulence / remiss of sight
i weep without regret when
once i followed him toward the night
forgot what i was and
accept what i am,
endure in all burning light
fueled by the sword of Pan
love keeps me warm
as he keeps me lit
i am reborn / magnificent
a forlorn phoenix
omniscient
songs for his careful choir
i am one chosen - truth among liars,
i fly above / kite toward the sun
this is what I am / what i was
this is what i've become
then a willful puppet
without inhibiting wires
still my love will never tire
transformed by lost desire / hot as blue fire
this is who i've become
i am the light of the rising sun
The Lion of kingdom come...
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC