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positrxnicbrain Nov 2014
Every time I look into the mirror,
I see it in my face
I'm possessed by the goblin child
Who'll destroy the human race, though,
I haven't forgotten hope
I know the ancient lore,
God will strike me down
To Hell, forevermore
John B Dec 2012
Hark verily my indignant venipuncture retrogression

Saudade anthropomorphic coveting empathic repression

Bask wholly in its self indulgent verbose serendipity

Happenstance to necromance enigmatic anonymity

Applied psychology catharsis my make believe aggression
I recited this peace 4/24/15 watch that here...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kJ5wXZppnE#t=18.5
Alessander Dec 2016
This is to all those misfits

To the Romeo car-washing in Inglewood inlets
To the Hippy selling crystals on the Venice boardwalk
The Magician swallowing 8-***** at the Huntington Beach peer
The Rapper selling CDs in the Ranch Market parking lot
The **** tatting in a makeshift garage
The Poet slinging chapbooks at cafes and rec centers…


Not androids pontificating from lecterns
But grimy roots burrowing deep
Seismic rumblings toppling down
Insured ivory towers
Smashing pilled-paradigms beneath Docs
Hustling and slinging
In the forbidden outshacks of civilization
In tents, over barbed-wire, beside shards
Desperate and burning
For neither Truth or Beauty
But for LIFE

They do not tap wrists
No,  they thump chests
To feel it beat
To feel it rage
For fugitive fugues
For new eternities

They embrace
******* romance
Graveyard necromance
The holy hunger for change
Defying commercials and charts
Shivering and howling on streets
Waging guerrilla war
Liberating cubicled-hearts
positrxnicbrain Dec 2014
We were bound together
By a power
Of crushed sea shells
And pressed tiger flowers
By burnt sugar, rice wine
And sweet incubated language.
You wrapped my toes
With your cotton words
And I should have known
You were an illusion
By the rabbit
I found
In your hat.
this is the golden tangent
slipping in the sinister land of
everything you ever landed
on the wings of our entire planet

left behind with every man who commands it
to live and breathe because of zed dog
look into the symbolistic meaning of z being the  breathing
i live to end the simple dancing  
necromancy of what is a tangent
before necromance this,  ungrateful
and dried out planet
sympathy
and all that you gave it
has nothing lost in the pavement
i have nothing ever long in things
that is what i am in this whorld
not just to me
not just to you
i have everything that is left to have

this piece of sky
folding inwards
eat my favorite eye
in between yours

i am driving into the clouds running away from me
chasing always leading to the sunsets i remember
being there in the patient virtue of your hating
and what it have me the right to see hindsight in
I'm not a patient to this believing of all that is saving

I'm not a  blatant worry to society
all those things are hidden here
in this hideaway drawer that you left open
bang your knee and remember the contents, and how they are broken.

leave this world like a patient embalming emblem
letting you patiently open the whorl pool of patient
what is the payment and grace of the spoken
for the hindsight of all those things that are left broken

so this is the river flooding over the burning bridge
this is the island , that is underwater,  thanking the ice caps for growing
this is the row boat is which you gave birth to a baby, that  someone is borrowing
this is the patience of all those that are  waiting for you to get better
this is the road home


lets try this pipe and hope it goes to your favorite level
let the mushrooms that grant you breathe of fire, become flowers that are shinning even in the daytime.
You tore my heart like a dagger’s ******
When before you it was laid
You, a parasite fuelled by lust
Like drunk demonic parade

You’ve tarred a mind that once was sound
To make it your bed and your domain
Degenerate to whom I'm bound
Like a convict to a chain

Like a gambling man to fortune’s wheel
Like the lush to a bottle of gin,
Like the maggots to their grisly meal,
**** you, you rot from within!

Give to me a swift, sharp death
For to set my weak soul free,
Give me poison to taint my breath
For to take my fear from me

Alas! both the poison and  the blade
Contemptuously said to me:
"You will not be freed or slayed
From your accursed slavery

You fool! — if from that deadly trance
Of which your release you desire
Your kisses would necromance
The cadaver of your vampire!"
Baudelaire wrote some seriously angsty break-up poetry.
norris rolle Oct 2012
Stop sittin', staring silently,
Sipping  some sad, salty sea.
Thinking that the time travails,
And all and any always ails.

Directly desist doomsday dreams!
Nightmares necromance no names.
Freedom fancies foes for flames.
Gladness garners greater gains.
Darkly Jul 2016
A circle of salt and a smug expression.

"Not today bro!"

bloop

"Necromance if you want to, you can bring your friends to life!"

Cheers.
Who needs a healer when you can raise the dead?
KD Miller Jul 2015
“’Have you ever seen a man?’ I knew he meant naked. He disrobed.Then he just stood there in front of me and I kept on staring at him. Then I felt very depressed.”*
- Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Afternoons while the dog sleeps
turned over on the side and i wonder what organs i push on
liver? spleen? clean the bile for me, please

and then I  shall leave extra gratuity.
Please don’t cry, I feel a hand on my hipbone
my eyes pressed against the olive cushion

The green and the wood of the trees blur into one outside my
june july window
much like the book of Esther i look for a place inside

myself to stop the killing of decency inside myself and
i cannot muster it much like anything else.
I wish i had never asked that December night to go

I stop the disgust cut it at the bud
find a way to necromance up my personality
the outside is smelling of charcoal

i stare at his flesh,
then at mine then
at the floor.

he says we shall wait all i want and
now he is looking at me with doe eyes and i
nod. I nod. I feel i am ok now.
You say in my selfish suicidal wake,
you were saying how amazing I was
when you never danced for me
or called me to say you wanted to see me
or really ever called me back for that matter
no just when I was ready to slit my wrists
you stopped me by saying lies clearly
so now I'm alive and I have no idea why
I did it for you.  you never danced for me
necromance me for I am just as dead
trying this life thing out , for another year
Jodie LindaMae Jul 2019
When you were a little boy
They would lay you to sleep
With small prayers and a leap of faith,
Your angel-blonde eyelashes barely touching
And you would stop breathing periodically,
Gasping into the void,
Creating sounds that would echo against the cacophonous
Tomb of your mind for the rest of your life.
I hear your screams reverberate
In every instance of a Swedish accent.
I guess you were lucky enough
To be pronounced Dead three times.

Of course you'd call it an ice skating accident;
Ever the man, ever the glowing effigy of strength,
How could you bring yourself to tell us how you'd been mangled,
Beaten so badly that your organs broke and bled,
Your ten year old knees
Kissing the carpet of your mother's living room
As you fell and died that first time?
You'd later tell stories about the progression of death,
Colors enrapturing you,
Everything dipped in blue.
There were levels to this,
You said,
And you'd stuck your skin into one that no mortal could have
And yet you returned to us.

Nothing about this poem
Is going to make you seem more evil
Than the vision you've already placed in people's minds.
Thin, pale hands tossing a severed pig's head into an audience,
Those same fingers tracing the path of a jagged bottle blade
Down your arm in a business motion;
Pelle, I'd write an ode to every scar on your arm
If I wasn't sure that you'd already done it.
A heart corpse painted as black as the inside of a closed casket,
Your closed casket,
What was it that ruined you?
What was the trigger that pulled itself
Besides the so obvious one?
A broken kid from a broken home,
What made you run so far away
Only to hide in the arms of those who
Let you parade your mental illness like a banner,
Let you wear your delusions like a cape around your neck?
Who let you climb to the roof
Just so they could cheer for you to jump
With your fantasies and shredded silk hair flying behind you
Before your bones crumbled against each other in skin
Too tender and frail to contain you?

When they talked about you in magazines
Writers were always lamenting the tragedy
Of your cut-glass jaw and your piercing eyes,
Masculine beauty of such a caliber
Wasted on a character so evil and vile
It might as well have blotted itself out against the sun.
What you thought you were
Doesn't define your worth.
You're so much more than a corpse on a bed,
A couple of necklaces made from your bones.
You are so much more than a voice that was
Throttled out of existence by its own hand,
So much more than a statement piece.

For years after your death
Your family would receive packages for you in the mail
From bookstores around the world,
Tomes of witchcraft and ancient magics,
Spells designed to enchant and bewitch,
Pelle, were you trying to necromance the Dead?
Were you trying to take the parts of you
That felt less than human out?

If I could talk to you,
If I could say one thing,
It would have been what I've told
A dozen friends who've jumped in front of trains,
Called me from mental hospitals,
Called me with guns and knives in their hands.
I wish I could have told you
To wait one more ******* day.
In one more ******* day your father would have called.
You might have had a ticket back home.
You might not have a strike through your name
On every online page referencing your work.

The screaming may have stopped,
The air raid sirens in your head might have dulled
To the point where you wouldn't have felt the need
To blow them away.

If you didn't feel human,
If you felt like this was all a dream and that you'd wake up soon,
Why are we still living in the remnants of your nightmare?
Part one of a series of love poems dedicated to "unloveable" people. Rest in the glow of the freezing moon, Pelle. I hope you're having fun in Transylvania. I'll be seeing you soon.

— The End —