"malefic" poems
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, just upon a dream---magical things come to burn to gleam:}
I don't know you
I danced with you once upon a magical dream
I don't know you
that look in your blues is so malefic an appeal
and I don't know you
if it's true that visions are all imaginary
but if I don't know you
I'll wait to see you
you'll love me at an infinite once
the way you did once upon a dream
but if I don't know you
I'll die to see you
you'll hold me in hugs
the way you did tons upon a dream
------
a fantasy a miraculous gleam
to my heart forever a favorite scene
------ravenfeels
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 7:38 PM UTC
As Mars ascended,
One split in two;
The mitosis of fact
Splitting right through.
An anaphase ritual
Lining the floor,
Where I wanted mine,
And you wanted more.
But Venus was kind
When last she was here
And gave us a gift
Of temporal fear,
So we’d done this before
And the God was decried,
Yet out of the darkness of space
He cried:
‘Oh come to me Father,
I shan’t be denied.’
And Saturn, he heard
As he fought with Rhea,
And looked at his mother
And the remains of Theia.
A plan came to mind,
A clever time trick,
And we were caught fast
By the Great Malefic.
As Saturn ascended,
We split up again,
With no time to heal,
Our love was in vain;
For Venus had long since
Bored of our space,
And our love had begun
The sad telophase.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, never and I mean ever skip a song because of a childish intro!!!LISTEN TILL THE END:>
blame me for my blind eye
hesitant on the hearing not the see it dies
blame me on the reason
my last years gone depressed season
began so dull so dumb a childish try
turns out to be so **** hard to deny
drunk on the chorus that switches its motives
its so called focus
pleasant for the ear
a fancy for the crescent defeater
one with a furious raged demeanor
on the mind a wild falling pleader
thief of previous cherry symphonious instrumental feeder
to be a runaway to the arrogant feels a betrayal
when it absolutely sways the Venuses to the ultimate portrayal
to be so precious a part in the hallway gone crazy gone jealous
to be so malefic in the addicting becoming a bit waste of the Chellos
to be so lonely on the glared faults
on the failed dreams of filling constant thoughts
repressed upon charmed up lingering past fonts
plastered on the admit
flustered on the submit
a fine line between
some
savior a haven an unknown felon
some
killer a torturer soured up lemon
------ravenfeels
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 12:31 PM UTC
Spotlight on the windy mistress
Her pirouettes stir petals
Leaves rise and fall at every somersault
Impressing the seven devils
Each one malefic in a different sense
Eloquent in a heavy mist
They allude at their brethren sins
Blight corrodes a suggestive audience
Death’s caress plays maestro in the sound check
When the carrion pick sinner from the jest of what’s left
Our windy mistress will play tribute
To the harlequin slaughter
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 8:53 AM UTC
His bag of accusing words was opened and ready her heart to fill.
Her swear about playing fairly by being in love was like a bitter pill.
A subject to change himself was his escape from her malefic mess
And all the power she used had the purpose to gain her own success.
She summoned a huntsman asking him to push the little Snow White
Into the woods, to stab her to death just in the middle of the night.
As a proof of the her death, he had to bring back her lungs and her liver.
‘Cause the queen wanted to cook, to eat them and to feel that shiver.
The girl was scared to death, when she saw him taking out his knife.
She convinced him to find, however, a good solution to spare her life.
After promising to run away and never to return from the forest's core,
She asked him to give the queen the liver and the lungs of a young boar.
She admired the accidental depth, with which the oak forest was draped,
She went quietly and very quickly, because from her death she escaped.
She stood for a second, while the breeze was flowing with her breath,
She heard the voice of her mother telling her the secret about life and death.
She heard the birds singing and she wanted to be like a little bird so much
Sitting under a huge mushroom's umbrella, she avoided the light's touch.
Like shining diamonds were the misty clouds above the oak wood's trees.
She stayed there for a while to enjoy the symphony of some honey bees.
However, the cold night time came to hold all her empty unwanted dreams,
While hallucinogenic horror images were there to catch all her bleeding screams.
She woke up, but the fog's confusion enshrouded the whole dawn's entrance.
In that forest, the mystery was cast in some strange fairy shapes by chance.
Dry huge branches hardly hit her and swished in her frightened ears,
She noticed that her wet clothes in the rain were mingled with tears.
Suddenly, she found a very little house in the middle of that forest.
It was well hidden and nicely surrounded by red flowers as a florist.
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 6:02 PM UTC
Then there was the sudden stillness
of thousands of birds on the telephone wires
strung like records of our transgressions
in an unquiet pattern against
roiling gray sky.
How had they come there, how
in their alien dance had they conceived
this tautness, this bizarre
and malefic solidity
from their own selves,
a tension like a hand
on the small of your back, at the nape
of your neck.
Then there was the sudden stillness
of thousands of black birds on telephone wires,
black stones on a string, a long dash
on granite sky—
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
A colleague told me how
“All poems are hate poems.”
And I battered this wondered
Clobbered up like mudpies flopping,
Topped, and tossing between
Palms. Qualms pulled apart,
Stretched, stringy like
Taffy, sticking tongue to teeth, why
We can barely spreak when
We touch upon love.
There is Love – and there is Hate – two sides of the same blade
That steams your blood –
Smoke signals to
Your loved ones that you – in one way or another –
Are still orange-warm.
In this forgiving House of Blue Light – singing of malefic effigies:
Christ Light. Water light.
Trickled dirt along the corridors, wood-swollen, too.
Grab the safety handles of Hate – embrace them, know them, love them.
Hate is the pause between heartbeats that exhales the light in your veins.
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 12:23 AM UTC
I was once in thrall to the infamous myth
Of the artiste souffrant,
But I’ve come ultimately to see it
As the cruelest of delusions.
But could it not be said
That it’s still among us,
That malefic notion
That the artist is a spirit set apart,
For some special purpose
Of which pain is an essential component?
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
There have been a lot of things
That I have never said out loud.
They're always inside my head
In the deepest pit of my psyche
I know that it has happened
All these nasty things in my past
But there will always be a part of me
Agonizing and living like it's never there
It's one of the reasons why I deprive myself
Of love, affection and all things sugary and nice
Eventually you'll look at me as a really malefic entity
Though I won't exude that pathetic demonic kind of stare
I'm aware that we rarely have saviours who will be ready
To pull us out of intense and jarring gladiator self-fights
Can I just say **** all these lessons for compassion?
They're never kind to us, so why should we be?
Always I think it should be an eye for an eye
Because it's a rather fitting punishment
Should I not get the peace I'd need?
Give me a break here, oh please.
I never did anything, so why me?
These people around us are pigs.
They're all animals of opportunity.
These eyes will never trust again.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 9:01 AM UTC
Oh, sunshine, an eclipse has shown you true
In your warmth roses grew, but in cold they freeze
Send me searching, grow my garden anew
Love blown away, thin, leaves in the autumn breeze
Away with thee, foul torturer, begone
Malefic specter of my hope filled dream
Foul Raven causing my visions to wan
My life, my love, from my heart do you ream
Once, you a dove, a symbol of my love
But since, your pristine feathers have turned black
A gift, from the dark pit to which you shove
Not enough on my barren field you track
Even though you hurt, destroy, and you maim
Impossible, I find, to give you blame
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
This day is so bright
and all seems so right
I wonder if I can stand it
I had not planned it
the clouds and rain
gnawed so unrestrained.
Early morn’s nightmare
still lingers somewhere
moored to the dark
where it won’t disembark
still clutching me in slimy grip
I’m on its derelict ship.
How can a dream be so strong
and make me feel so wrong
just a wispy demon in the night
by now should have taken flight
but here I sit in light of day
still hoping the malefic will away.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC
I once was something
that I am not now
too much shock
to the system
caused a retreating
away from the world
into myself
A solitudinarian
while my systems
shut down
preparing to reboot
a cocooning occurred
followed by
metamorphosis
then transformation
reordering of
damaged cells
damaged goods
a regeneration
following
the assasination
of my juvenescense
by his malefic mind
6 years
living in the jar
hermetically sealed
spinning silken threads
around myself
tears hardening the shell
impenetrable
invisible
making myself small quiet
wanting to be unwanted
looking to be unnoticed
retired from a life not yet begun
necessity for survival
dictated the state of play
all the while thinking feeling
questioning
then throwing away
all my mislaid assumptions
my mantra
* I want to be happy
a happy life
I will not let him have it
my life is mine
my joy is mine
my freedom is mine
he has taken enough
I am taking happiness back *
an unremarkable day
the day I woke up
revivified
able again to draw a full breath
without flinching
without waiting
for his reaction
I ran in the park barefoot
I swam in the ocean
laying on the beach after
toes in the warm sand
the sun drying me
free
a child again renewed
J.C. honey-tiger 16/08/2019. 4.44am.
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 4:11 PM UTC
Compensez acum pentru câte n-am trăit,
O mandibulă travertin, nu-mi mai filtrează plămânii
Decât când sunt singura
mint
Când sunt singură ajung la apogeul interogării.
Da, are dreptate acum m-am convins.
Nu mai *** spune că beau sau că fumez în plan social
Un viciu real e un viciu personal iar eu...
Eu îmi transform tot în viciu atât cât există în intimitatea propriei mele minți.
Îmi privatizez existența precum visam că voi face, un chin, o răutate de nedescris la fel *** spunea tata-totul se va întoarce când "ai grijă ce-ți dorești că poate se îndeplinește."
Tată, nu e un "poate" , vezi tu toate aceste spuse intră în contradicție;mi-ai spus că tot ce vreau, primesc și ai dreptate-nu e un "poate" , e unica certitudine.
Tată dacă ai știi că glumele despre un viitor malefic aveau să devină realitate pentru fiica ta, le-ai mai fi spus?
Și această frumusețe de a trăi și de a admira tot malefică rămâne în prisma unei existențe deteriorate, acrită de timp.
Tată dacă ți-aș fi spus că era prea târziu, ai mai fi venit?
Toată această ardoare a mea de a afla *** se poate trăi mă conduce dintr-o viață în alta.
Și așa schimb lumi, anotimpuri, oameni, existențe - eu avertizez dar niciuna dintre aceste vorbe nu sunt concrete, aceste discursuri discrete, aceste vise pe jumătate coerente-eu nu sunt poet când îmi găsesc vină, când mă blamez, eu nu sunt poet când previn oricât de frumos poate suna.
eu nu sunt poet, nu când fumez, nu când implor, nu când sufăr.
Tată, eu știu că nu mă vrei poet, ceva filozof delirând într-o râpă.
Tată, asta se întâmplă,asta se va întâmpla.
Oct 11, 2022
Oct 11, 2022 at 10:45 AM UTC
The world once birthed an eternal fire
that lived in the form of two entities
A raging inferno only known to a certain pair who were unaware of their identities.
Labyrinths far and wide, steep and shallow did they go searching
for their desire for one another was a ceaseless kind of yearning.
Disillusioned and exhausted, the pair retreat to tend to their wounds
their flames now nearly fizzled with the scent of malefic fumes.
On the day that was the seventh of June, the pair bizarrely united to their amaze
and with their existence alone, they rekindled their flames.
With fervor and glowing spirits the pair fused together with a promise
the day which was the 31st of August.
The world once birthed an eternal fire
that lived in the form of two entities.
To this day they incinerate with pleasure:
Their flames will burn forever.
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 12:59 PM UTC
I breathe dust and think fire
my mind sizzles with spirit
I write with my left hand and see with both eyes
but that doesn’t matter.
thoughts without thought
diffuse like poisonous gas
from the mouth of the man
his audience inhale malefic fumes
“Homosexuality is against the will of mother nature” he hisses
yet she is nowhere to be seen.
when rain falls to the concrete
I know
she cries like the rest of us
I am trapped in his freedom
his right to speak as he likes
takes away my right
to exist.
Only silence remains.
I will not be reduced
to a title
a statistic
a fixture of mindless rhetoric
yet his words continue
screeching darkness in my ears
he doesn’t know love
but he’ll do all that he can
to strip it from others
when his daughter sobs into her pillow
and drips her scarlet shame on the white bathroom tiles -
He’ll learn.
until then his forked tongue will flick venom in the air
the narrow tunnel of his mind unmined
I long for the day
people think before they say:
I am not
homophobic
but
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 6:37 PM UTC