"mephitic" poems
O as I watch, waiting, wondering.
What has spawned this plague?
The mephitic clouds rise, all day,
joining the atmosphere.
A disease unleashed,
let out of the cage.
Allowed to frolic and rage, bringing thoughts to those already afraid.
Spreading further into the outskirts of the desolate plains.
Rapidly growing an apocalypse like a **** unable to pull from the root.
Only solution seem fit.
To continue to change our ways, and never quit,
or allow ourselves to fall into another mesolithic age.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
There are the two choices. Wicked, wheel-men curving towards that which I wear in the evening when I paint on my black suit. The pitter-patter of organic matter, the Metropolis ground fresh. You tell me raspberry, I tell you I am not impressed. And then from the inimical lips, those bards from distance, sand spots and hordes of watering holes I place fresh Republicans on- and they were stealing the magazines.
Jury on.
Four devils they figure some, four devils. A anthelmintic potion to square away the worms. The pink worm, who takes long-distance telephone calls on your roommates only moments before the red worm, his head shriveled and his limbs crying from ****** she the blue curly worm; she is what we've been looking out and everything about this evening has slipped in the pattern we expected. Red light in fact,
They used the concatenations of frog legs(this was the big deal since My Mother loved the chelura of some tropical varieties of frogs and funny-legged), banjax the first one before the weather catches the summary being the news. Going as far as the the ecstasy of officials leaving the scene. The species catching its last names of life- genus and family alike racing towards safety.
And so I build in the fly zone. I haggle for President, and make sacred the realms of figures; denaturalized are the entanglements of humans, even whatever the mephitic and bellicose shadows shend and fordo their greatest powers.
I lull and lust, my pugnacious frazil, just like my recalcitrant logomachy that I ****** and slide angrily and profusely with m and everything I try to do. Just so long as you can see me usufruct and lobby forthright the message.
Mine. Hate. Anxiety.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
I had told no one
Where that speaking plant rose;
For, it bent where no eyes could look
And where the woods became a mirage.
It led to where Daphne took,
And where the butterfly seed would ride.
Sent from a moonlit breeze
near the noxious smell of the tide.
It grew in marsh where all rested still, separate from time;
Where, the digits of the woods can grab you
and the Green Lord wears a Henbane Crown.
So watch where you step when you are among my kind.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 2:06 PM UTC
Wickedness dances like a Chinese dragon
held high on poles by the grinning
It curls its tail and snakes around the minds
of admirers who see beauty in its gaping jaws
Flaccid and incapable, this billowing beast
intoxicates and seduces the frustrated and resentful
It dances in Kirachi, hoodwinks in Bradford,
and slips into the dark places in distracted minds
— this infernal idea more bilious and mephitic
than a komodo’s bite
It dances wildly in the confused thoughts of lost boys
who haven’t noticed its cunning wink
They sway and rock — utterly taken
far more mistaken — until stilled by the slap of death
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 4:10 PM UTC
The Industrial Evolution
I want the rain to wash away the grime
From this filthy living corpse.
Its dross filled pores
And a life cloaked in rust ridden slime.
Dumped grot covers me.
Exhaled from the mephitic breath
Of a thousand septic chimneys refusing to fast.
Spewing out ****
Drowning all us luckless souls in muck.
The inevitable residue of greed
Deposited by those with no belief in the End of time.
A planet of zombies
Wading through a mire of death.
Only waiting for the time
They reach the END.
(Gerry Aldridge)
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
The Bar At The End Of The Earth- in progress...
Still the faceless, formless shape of something behind the bar serves nothing to the man.
“You need not always chase a dream so far, Sometimes you need to let it come to you. It is not death I will pour you today. You still love your dream. Cherish it. Carry it around everywhere- it is proof you are alive.”
The stranger huffs indignantly.
“My dream has gone. I’ve already told you. My heart is broken, it just won’t stop beating. I shouldn’t be alive. Give me a double of death, make sure the job gets done. I implore you.”
The stranger holds up his glass defiantly.
“My dear Sir, hearts won’t stop if they still have more to do. And dreams do not get lost, they are always there just waiting to be found.”
“I am sure mine doesn’t exist anymore, if it ever did at all.”
Second excerpt- The Bar At The End of The Earth
It laughs from the shadows behind the bar at the end of the Earth.
“Your pain is attestation you are still alive. Without pain there is nothing you fear to lose and nothing you will ever really love."
“Is that so?” The man cries into the empty glass hoping only poison will drip from his putrid corpse, so that he may indeed drink himself - to death at last. He raises his glass again.
It sighs.
“Alas, you have truly lost your way. Death does not await you here.”
Weak from his will to die,
The man raises a hand to cover an eye.
Here sunlight still finds me. Go away!
Am I doomed to live
Another mephitic day?.
Silemce ensued.
Then, from behind the barren, bleak bar came a voice.
"You´ve found her, haven't you?"
Slurring, and dizzy from thinking about not thinking about not sleeping. Hating the thief, who is no longer a robber, but a kidnapper- Damning him,
"Found who?" He feigned an innocence lost some time before.
"Her."
The Bar At The End Of the Earth- Gerry Aldridge (2016)-work in progress,
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
someday,
after the bombs drop.
someday,
after the plagues wipe us out
someday,
after the leaders are gone.
someday,
after the whitehouse burns.
someday,
after the last shopping mall is abandoned.
the last cop dead, the last priest crucified, the last shots fired
the last person released from prison
the ground is scorched,
mephitic yellow clouds more beautiful than anything imaginable
block out the sun's rays,
casting a green glow on the earth's scorched crust.
torrential winds wipe any plant life from the surface
people still, somehow survive.
they fight on, steeling their hearts
against the pain they knew
hate evaporated.
they harvest mushrooms and algae
in caves,
catching the occasional
creature, stranger
than what we know these days
an alien landscape
on our collective home.
these people
they love
they live
they fight
they work together, their hearts swollen to bursting
sometimes the clouds migrate
and for a few moments they catch a glimpse
of a sky
infinite, old,
and an unbearable thought creeps into their heads
what would i do without you?
my friends?
my love?
i'm home.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:15 PM UTC
From my childhood, I have been the child of
the sun. Without a sin, always livelihood. I
loved literature .. I mean I always read the
Amphisbaena
This was my tranquiliser, almost like an
anxiolytic Dulcinea.
I postulated it for depress,
Effusive as needed be I had to express.
Hilarious how at first it were words I used to
juxtapose..
Or I suppose I unintentionally juxtaposed both,
words and my books.. I can't recall exactly
how it all began. But I can tell how it looks. It
is a haphazard hazel-shelf, an acervunile.
This is a saga, but I will expatiate.
To escape from gloom I locked myself in the
room, and read books.
I had hallucinations, but I kept on reading
books. Full of hegemony imaginations, I forgot
how to tidy. Idyllic, I only knew how to study.
Slept with books in my bed, some were pillows
for my head. Acervunile was a name I gave to
my bedroom. I denied my friend into the
room, we loomed all the gossip over the
window pane
Gosh I did not need any imbroglio type of
scene
In the mornings I was always late for school,
some of my books were not seen.
They were not lost no, but hiding under my
acervunile bed.
I had books which are Ushers, they'd welcome
you the instant you entered the door,
Some are domates, you stamp on them before
you get on bed,
Some are stalkers, always peeping through the
window, it had seen that uncle who dated the
widow.
On my first collection I organised them A-Z,
but to my least expectation with lassitude I
sorted them into a mephitic Aevirtenal Zenith
Zoo
Even though these books untidy my bedroom,
it is because of them that I'm Xenodochial,
literacy-wise and intelligent! I love my
acervunile bedroom!!!
Siyanda
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
It begins with a whisper.
One thought,
one voice,
one blow upon the dam
to a restless river.
Silence.
This dark duet
of doubt
of uncertainty;
two thoughts to feed
two voices to fetter
two fiends to fuel
an unruly fire,
stronger.
louder,
bigger yet.
Silence.
No, it crescendoes!
Voices rising,
rising,
rising,
like mephitic vapors—
I inhale.
I choke.
I scream.
But no one hears me.
No one hears what's inside my head.
Silence.
Please, be quiet
lest I ruin me,
you,
and all that I love;
draw a line in the sand,
sift out these voices of right
and wrong
of good
and bad
of truth
and lies
because these voices lie
oh yes, they do.
And if I know me—
every crevice
every crack
every word written in my heart
by my God, O my God, who made
every crevice
every crack
every word written in my heart—
how can they know me too?
Silence.
You wicked voices!
Yes, I know what you do to
stir fear
distrust
anxiety
until I have no choice
but to listen to the voices.
Silence.
No more.
No more voices,
or restless rivers,
or unruly fires,
or mephitic vapors.
Just—
Silence.
Blissful silence.
I can breathe
and close my eyes
to the black symphonies of
silence.
Yet, in the absence
in the void
a single note echoes
indiscernible in the buzz
but this is silence
and in the silence
things become louder
until I crave the noise again.
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 2:43 PM UTC
and now
i will sever the strings
that once tethered us together
with the pieces of me
that you shattered
i will forge a divide between us
deep enough to swallow
my hearts temptations
for i am eve
and you are my vice
i will tear apart continents
and demarcate the soil that stands between
our now sovereign feet
if it means the storms you contrive
will no longer wash away
the delicate foundations of myself
but
i am learning how
to escape the darkness
that once held me hostage
i am learning that
the deadened highs
from the mephitic lies
you breathed into my lungs
arent worth the crushing suffocation
that shadowed
i am learning to accept
that the loneliness that keeps me company
in your absence
is not evident of weakness
but the result of me instilling faith
back into my own two feet
and an assertion of the strength i have
to live on my own
x.
Jun 19, 2018
Jun 19, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC
Morning
Touch the darkest shade of me, missing dads embrace killing me how i cant see my face, believed since my hikikomori
Always had a date, i'm attacked by fakes doing my years on this island praying for a quiet night and...
He was my friend and you played with his heart like its tennis, he's atrophied and doesn't have time to put in, disturbing the tranquility
Subtlety, with those flying white kites scarce of their integrity, if you feel that way i hope you're satisfied
Out the soul, i gotta focus on family problems while mommy making solid amity offerings
Back switch, no fraternity, no honesty just a couch covered in green, i'm the burgundy
Head lopsided, stomach growling. scanty pride, slim chance of lies from me
There's no worst feelin' then waking up and not knowing why you feel so empty, not hungry but G.A.D got me walking with a time limit
Only happy with a clutter of my nig's, don't sass when i'm hectic, two boxs of cig's now its getting mephitic
I'm pathetic, i know they said it, even though they're not looking my way, against it in sturgis, i misinterpret like this
Morning
Burdens on my skin, belly of her lungs, moms been smoking again, losing the negativity but choosing my belief
Throw my virginity off the balcony? cause everyone is into me? you must still be sleeping, you must still be dreaming
You're nineteen, said you're impressed by my aplomb and i try really hard even when you're on my phone, i apologized for my anxiety, for my inability to process equanimity
You're nineteen, i don't really care that you're older, i must be a loner? all i need is your closure, illegal so we gotta think it over
Of course i hate my foes, history repeats and that's how it goes, hearts gold when my soul is sold, brothers?man have plenty of those
sinking, drowning in life. overly suicidal holding my fathers rifle
Riddled from my past, tell the preachers and satan'll ask
Touch the darkest shade of me, missing dads embrace killing me how i cant see my face, believed since my hikikomori
I'm fifteen
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC