"occultum" poems
It is just
blood soaked shields
wedged together
to ensure protection.
Inside there is an eye
with a yellow iris
yellow because it is sick
sick of the world
and sick of seeing it.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
i stretched my tonsils wide and swallowed the sun
and all that i got was this mouth full of blood
i swallowed again
and relished the crack
my knees hitting the mud
the earth was the first
not to fight back
so i collapsed upon her back, forgot institution
and didn't try to get back up
just lay quietly in disollution, swept up in the flash flood
looking for some kind of nameless crudely chiseled love
chasing a faintly tricky latently burdensome buzz
tainted by ***** nail beds
and haunted by swerving white trucks
socially taught to get up and never come down
emotionally taught to get down and forget what it's like being up
luck no longer has meaning
that is just the universe being
i want to give up and go with it
i want to revisit that rattling requisite
i am ready for this ego to lift
“Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando
Invenies Occultum Lapidem,”
“Visit the interior of the earth and become pure
you will find the hidden stone.”
when the time is right
i'll turn from red to white
drenched in a vitriol bath
my bones will surface
bright as gold under the light of the night
sinners worst dream
alchemist's delight
swallow the demons and
stay awake
no matter what you do
don't miss a minute
forget what pain is
form callouses
you will not be ashamed
of your right to breath
and grow out of this
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 1:57 AM UTC
In a faraway place and faraway time
stood square a cabin rotted pine and bramble flue.
Once haven for old crones craven - their skins thin-skinned slivers of brine;
now nary a soot line marked a witches' brew.
In the dark, swirling silver stark and creatures would quiver
held over pot-stew thither, along hymns of damning chanted.
Waggled tongues with an evil glaze would slither,
cursing in eye, toe, and liver the bubbling broth decanted.
Oh a malkin giggled and a paddock piggled;
sniggled in a mirth-marked cauldron's rubble double bubble.
With a whoosh and a swish a bony finger had wiggled,
as papery skin withered the drubble swuddle brubble.
On those blackest of nights, when wolves would fear the moon,
howls held loomed, choked on down the throat of dusk.
Hatred uttered its sleepy breath, pitch-entombed
and justice marooned under a tar most brusque.
Shadows danced incantation
for an occultish creation, oh the devil's bidding be done!
Flamed carnation, neither here nor there god-fearing,
cackling a primrose coronation; the stirring spoon spun!
Death-catcher chimes hung close upon the entry;
a dust since turn of century marred bone;
witches’ wart-encrusted noses crinkled at gentry;
chenille voices sung with celerity a hellish praise: Divinum Occultum.
A little duende ran down the cauldron,
gloom chanting a chant come out with a hurl.
Burnt feet chasing away all ghosts ‘n goblins,
unfurling like whisper from the concoction:
Doom upon all the world.
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 6:26 AM UTC