"paroxysm" poems
V. Ethereal
Maybe being drunk
is the closest I will
ever get to zero gravity--
to walking on the moon.
My fingers curled
around the neck of a liquor bottle,
I wander to my bedroom window,
as a tipsy weightlessness settles
amongst my limbs
(and my thoughts).
Swaying slightly,
I part the curtains and,
in my intoxicated stupor,
search for Polaris in the night sky,
point to it,
press a clumsy hand to the glass,
convince myself that
I have captured the star,
and all the omniscient power
it possesses,
beneath my finger tips.
Star light,
{lips pant--
inebriated,
heavy}
star bright,
{my breath appears a catalyst
as the window pane glazes over
in an impenetrable paroxysm of fog}
first star I see tonight,
{I take a swig,
raise the bottle--
a toast
to the cosmos}
I wish I may,
{Lashes meet in
silent matrimony}
I wish I might,
{Behind closed, desperate eyes,
ribbons of colour dance
towards me in a disoriented jig}
have this wish I wish tonight--
to be
obliterated by the very galaxy
that birthed
these grieving bones
and this tumultuous heart.
Because only then--
as the Gods paint the Night
with the innards of my soul,
acrylic purples
churning against the blackness--
will I become what I
have always dreamed
of becoming:
Lovely.
Ethereal.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
Free concerts
are full of potheads,
they get all in your ear
and start talking about
the land of milk and honey,
DENVER ******* COLORADO.
The beers cost
15 bucks
for pisswater
and barely a pint.
The girls
all wear pink spaghetti straps
sagging acid-wash jeans,
and a smell like
old milk.
The old people
dance.
the old people dance;
there wrinkly
pterodactyl arms
flapping as they swirl the air
with bad knuckles.
The air smells,
like sweat.
Sweat smells like
toilet water.
Free concerts are usually outside,
so hope to ******* Gaia that it doesn't rain,
because you're stuck there,
drunk and yelling
dancing and laughing
******* and falling.
Matt, Dang and Me.
We spent our summer going to free concerts,
because the girls that go to free concerts
think tattoos and ************* and toilet humor
is more ****
than money.
The old people dance with you
performing some type of necromancy
in the air
that brings dead things inside of you
back to life.
And the bud,
it's so ******* sticky,
and it causes a hacking
paroxysm of coughing
to the point that you can
taste the blood in your mouth,
because those people from
DENVER ******* COLORADO,
really know their ****
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 12:05 AM UTC
There was a woman with an ecclesiastic body.
I found out I was just one member of its congregation.
She was a soothsayer when the lights were down,
When she proved she was a succubus -
But what the **** I've never been a saint.
She put the screws to me.
She used to belong to another man.
Now she's putting me through my paces.
If I had paid attention to the signs,
I could have seen my fate before it happened.
There was this dude I knew who was hard pressed.
I thought I might could offer him a place to crash for awhile,
So he could get his **** together.
Apparently demons have an appetite for gutter ****
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It was just a reminder,
Cause it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
There are accusations to bring me down,
It's like I'm already dead.
They throw down their gauntlets,
They make every pledge.
I don't trust a word they say.
They're liers and deceivers.
All they want is whatever they can get.
They prey on fools and their believers.
They'll prophesy, then pass you by
Unless you've got an edge,
The dusty demons, dryer than a dessert segde.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
She never failed to cause me woe.
But, I'm not an innocent soul.
I guess what goes around,
Comes back around.
When it's harvest time, they'll know,
They done ****** with the wrong one.
Everybody reaps what they sow.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell
There is no such thing as kindness here.
I'll save troubles for another day,
They only multiply.
The more I see, the more I know
That strumpets belong with urchins.
They never will know,
Until they are each other's paroxysm,
But even then, they won't care.
No good deed is without a price to pay.
They took a ride in my ride,
And didn't forget my checkbook.
They didn't neglect to clean my house
Of nearly everything inside.
It's just a reminder, but it really ain't no surprise.
That there's a burning lake
And gnashing on flesh,
Yeah, it's nothing but any empty, cold black well.
It's a Godless place,
You're on your own.
There ain't no honor among thieves.
Remember this,
There are no friends in Hell.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 3:02 AM UTC
I’ll lay here and let the sun make love
Penetrate the shielded part of my being
to bear the brightness of its warmth
right to the base of the unmoved core
and when hysteria sizzles time passes
right to the century of the ancient timeline
where women sadness was denied access
only to be healed by a scientific ***** massage
that gentle movement of finger in the pelvic
to bridge the eruption with the explosive paroxysms
where a woman would relive forgetting
all the unattention behaviour bore by their husband
women wombs would be removed so as not to feel
women ****** desire would be numbed so as not to feel
women would be sent into asylums so as not to feel
They are ****** women confiscicated to a domestic gloom
Let them tend to the men and gain no societical standing
until the doctors got tired of it all, with broken hands
those cramped fingers and supportive bandages
tired of motioning and fumigation of the libia
with sweet smelling and relaxing oily lotions
It was as simple as that...... the change of notions
and the innovation of the handheld vibrators
eradicated hysteria in mere 1952........
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC
There is no floor
Below the water there is sand and dust
My feet disappear below the mist
And below that is a floor of nothing.
Lock and key, relative conductivity
Separation of anxieties
Generally elementary
Universal energy
Scientific inquiry
Empirical discovery
What a bunch of crap.
I bathe in fake white plastic
I swim in silent smiles
Dionysian warfare paintings
Classical textual narrating
Fitness, happiness, soporific movies
Genial tendencies, braced for ingenuity
Waiting for a paroxysm to bring forth neologisms
That test the boundaries of scientific truth
That recapture the errant minds of youth
We could make new buildings or lose a tooth
I hold the latter higher than that
I tilt the ladder there and back
Assiduous and wont, *** for tat
All a game, a joke at that
Your domain, provoked and trapped
Impressionistic spinal taps
On canvases of green and black
All from within cerebral shacks
Wind hammers palm trees on windowpanes
Wind tears down houses, rips apart planes
Wind doesn't move me, yet seems urbane
It's so jejune, it's all the same
I'm tired and lonely, powder remains
Pink like reagents in reactive flames
Quick like catalysts jumping inane
Frontal lobes retired my brain.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:02 PM UTC
It’s a race to the bottom of the bottle
between sanity and sober realization
to every impaired negation and how to
alleviate and mediate the dependancy I
place on finding new routes to the
end of the flask. —
The hands of the bottle hold
dreaded burdens above my head,
bringing life to each morrowed breath,
and write hyms towards yearning
a long awaited wish for death,
sobriety weaves this addiction
of solitude through each thought of
halted life, and pushes it’s back
as it’s heels leave crevices to follow,
a view of darkness to come,
with turning back placing another knot
down a throat with attempt to swallow.
as each run of whiskey drips down the
walls of my throat the sinking ship within
my veins finds strength to stay afloat.
a Wiser whisper tickles at the anticipations
towards taking another sip,
the Hennessy tendencies stutter
a ****** equilibrium captivating
and inching my sanity towards
a shot of sequel librium. —
As ***** spews and consumes
the inhabited ground, a paroxysm
of unconsciousness feels
mentally sound,
blacked out with the following
morning full of acts to repent,
the monetary blackness
proves to be nothing but content,
recollection of priors
seem to fade with the desire of
sobriety and eliminating any hope
towards thoughtless propriety. —
Momentary happiness through
intoxication provides no mediation
between a sober fight for death
and a drunken one, the wish for
lifelessness is just subdued by
stumbling to bed and the inability
to steadily hold a gun to my head.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
The wind blows in a restive frenzy,
But knows not which way to go.
Dead leaves caper ecstatically
In the hope of reanimation.
The lascivious earth wears petrichor;
Craving for his touch.
Her paramour with a tumultuous roar,
Seems invincible in his virility.
The grim atmosphere lights intermittently
As the sparks of their passionate paroxysm burst through.
The ******** tryst leaves him exhausted.
Satiating her voracity was an arduous feat.
What once seemed invincible now floats decrepit;
Oblivious to the agents of his decay.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 7:06 AM UTC
Life is not worth living without love.
We squander our lives, yet search for substance belligerently.
The world wallows in indulgence, hunting for some sweet ecstasy.
Desire situated in our hearts for a thing extravagant.
What’s in a name? Not known in full, not yet complete.
Abandoned innocents, love pledged ‘until death do part’ reveals not faithful.
Is there another dirt road? An alleyway? More faithful
than the sun to go west-bound, love?
Does such simplicity exist? Revived, whole, complete?
Cries lift and salt-stained drops fall belligerently.
What is assuredly, magnanimously extravagant?
What is the original ecstasy?
Was it walking in the garden with you, this ecstasy?
With you, who, to me, is perpetually faithful?
Is it from you that that bliss bubbles over, so extravagant?
Of you, is there an undeniable, unfathomable fountain of love?
We bawl out for reply, until the abdomen aches, so belligerently.
Scars mark this world from its pursuit of the complete.
Peering through the mist, our knowledge is six feet underneath complete.
Redemption, we learn by stumbling, is the finest ecstasy.
On our toes, the paroxysm. We press in belligerently.
To raze and desolate, the swing of the wrecking ball is faithful.
But countering this, a sloppy, passionate kiss of love,
grace so abundant, so extravagant.
Trust steady, hope unswerving, love extravagant,
will be my three until the steam is wiped from my lens in the hour of the complete.
Deeply grasp though, the best of these is love,
from which comes all and any ecstasy.
Know that from the ants to the mountains, He is faithful.
So seek and swallow with all your might, desperately, belligerently.
Therefore, “what do I live for?” ask yours belligerently.
Dwell not in leisure and comfort, but in the painfully extravagant.
Zoom out, turn the merry-go-round. You will find him faithful.
Shake your tree of knowledge, an apple might fall, find yourself not complete.
If you speak silence, you will find no utterance of ecstasy.
I call upon the name, let be known this love.
The sweet surrender, the blissful brokenness, the captivating complete.
Find your absolute identity in this encompassing ecstasy.
Know that what has been done for you, is what is indeed, love.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
Reaching over your shoulder,
A boulder is about to crack.
The giraffes, dinosaurs and pesky bores that glance
see you react.
It’s about language,
posture and poise
Presenting oneself like a broken toy,
One stepped on
broken and junk,
now its neck is whack thanks to that Chunk.
A paroxysm of coughing makes that Adam’s apple show
Somehow this perking out makes one dominant over a ‘poor girl’,
For some reason you think you’re a Hunk
Mystery how that fact of the Forbidden Fruit can paralyze your neck,
also sets back your assurance and confidence
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 5:58 PM UTC
so kindled in sear summer July,
Upheaval churning in my most stoic feeling frazzled, I am,
Thank GOD for Good Riddance- putting on a thinking cap
And my Good Instincts prevails..
Brooding over and praying in silence-
PEACE and Faith too ; sustained my intertwined...
guts good 'ole meshed up toiled my life.
Like a web-gathering digging out into knitted vine..
Gotta dance w/ grace even if someone ogling..
actin' out like zilch..
out there mesmerizing.
Give it all out for sake o' Inamorata
And fervor like ne'er be in paroxysm, a day or two ..
Rhyme with the melody o' songs
And Sing it all out on top o' my lungs
like there's no one's eavesdropping
Amusingly enough as I wantonly be wanted
And feel hurting no more,
Sleeping in minty pillows, sobbing no more...
At the time, eventide dusk comes,
That Beauty; rests indeed, bellows
Live and let live like it's a bed o' heavenly velvety Roses in this cauldron earth!.ensnared my thoughts together oftentimes,
Through waylay conflicts
So akin to as DRAMA Momma!
That another can tote to my table.
Getting' along just fine witn MYself..
thus restore my sense of panoramic mindset; - my BLESSINGS- scrutiny on my studies and my cherub babes who cares as whippersnapper!
Thou Loves me more than
of enormous superficial stuffs-
things that won't last-
I'm in solitude for soul searching'.
I am of thy belief that
everyone needs time...
To just Be! @ peace with just MYself!
J
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 11:38 AM UTC
It’s as if you love a stranger,
when unconditional love prevails;
It’s as if it doesn’t matter,
when effort goes to no avail.
The agony that lies within,
triggering the paroxysm that lies outside.
Lingering from the bones – and,
into the skin with total surface so wide.
Why do you hide away from me?
All that defence mechanism I practice that I see in front of me,
When all I wanted was to be your safe place -
No harm, no pain, no ****** and openness without disgrace.
I know, being alone provides solace.
But without one another, our love will go into such a waste.
I know, it hurts to open yourself up to another individual,
When everything you sacrifice can suddenly seem so fatal.
Let me plead, let me plight.
That I am imperfect, but I try to be right.
To be the harbinger of peace and abatement,
Even when the world fails and together we have to fight.
For once I am willing to let go, willing to prepare for war,
willing to stand on my feet with great reason and meaning.
And finally I found you – my love,
that will prevent my selfishness from leaving,
(even when colossal pain kills my being).
You are my reason for thanksgiving;
This unconditional love – revealing,
Finally after my tears are wiped away,
and my vision goes into a clearer perspective:
When unconditional love prevails,
(Now I know), nothing will go into no avail.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 8:36 AM UTC
(spiral of eyes to a magnesium explosion flare emerging
children holding matchsticks to the ocean
crackle of a generator popping
phantoms to the Varanasi Ghats where
a series of men hold smoke
to a blackness
and I'm holding my lungs
in front of me
and breathing using an artificial tank
gifted to me by decorated elephants
(who've long since passed away)
a film director captures my decay
and compares me to a romantic
who bled out
and was given a second chance at life
but remained empty of RED
and just EMPTY
soon the rest of this body will give
and clearly the roses remain apathetic of
this ultimatum
I lay for hours
catatonic
allowing the sensation
to finish me
before anything
else
can.
)
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 7:06 AM UTC
Coral evening sky casting a warm glow, in this lightening claimed dusky sky
Your shy smile bursting into a fit of giggles as I tickle you, my fingertips pressed to your belly, lingering
Starry eyes mirroring this evident desire,
A melancholy lullaby crackling into a fire laced ballad
My lips meet yours, and here we are lost in this fragile moment, like a flitting darting bird
Savoring it, tongues dancing across the shorelines of my molars, like this is the first and the last time
You pull the curtain, unbuttoning, yanking the shirt off my body; solace is your only quest
Your lips licking my earlobe, whispering verses of ******* addicted musicians, but you prefer ecstasy
Your fingers tracing the raven tattooed on the nape of neck, trailing down needy kisses along my spine
Your trying to blur it all out, I’m trying to save you darling, from yourself,
I need this too more than you know, but I love you more
Disasters have a tendency to reside in your ribs for a longtime, striking often-
Causing violent tremors
Leading to noxious EARTHQUAKES.
Your cat stopped breathing 6 months ago, she had punctured her lungs
I remember you screaming, trashing all the memories so that it stops hurting,you repressed it all.
You loved that furry little brat more than you hate fate.
Your grandfather expired last month, his led zeppelin, bon jovi records drown in loneliness now
Wrinkly smiles told stories of cosmos, aliens, he was a crazy man. The best nonetheless.
Chemotherapy drained out all the money and smiles, leaving your brittle heart suffering from paroxysm.
When he died, you kept shouting for hours straight, they had to sedate you. You blanked out. I know you are sinking in the abyss of hopelessness and you’re trying to escape, escape this AMNESIA,
that is running after you.
But love, let me in, I know you’re afraid, but I vow, I’ll prove to be sempiternal.
And I swear I’ll be there cupping these rare innocent moments and preserving, holding you close, kissing you even when the rainfall doesn’t seem to stop.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
The frequent phenomenon of this empty place,
Gathering energy it cannot replace,
Submerged in darkness, foreshadowing night,
Paroxysm shook, stirring up light,
Out from the chaos four beings stood,
Together infused, singular brotherhood,
Light blends them all mistaken into one,
Thirty-five times stronger, than the power of our sun,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath,
Pioneering our concept of constellations,
Bent at the handle, insidious oscillations,
Corruption was constant, like a plagued medallion,
When he collared his confederate, a maniacal stallion,
Couriers of desecration, colonial devastation,
Oxidizing nations, burning depredation,
Lord and auxiliary, imperial arrogation,
And with a single voice, they declared themselves king,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
Stimulated by Neva's lovely verse "Layers of Faces"
Phasing from the pockmarked scowl
Of urchin from the pauper's keep,
To fresh complexioned beauty
As she prepares herself for sleep.
Plunging to absurd
Amidst a paroxysm of mirth
With heaving breath and yellow teeth
Atop substantial girth.
A vacancy of shock
Within two eyes of palest blue
Who witnessed a young fledgling killed
By the cat who lives with you.
Dribbles from a masticating jaw
begin to dry
And a sudden bark of anger
causes feeding birds to fly.
A smile as warm as sunshine
Brings the pherimones to bear
And the young and the beautiful
Both magnetically stare.
There's a fan dance of faces
Stretched across the prosaic
And the layers within layers
Etch it all a rich mosaic.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
22 February 2011
Feb 21, 2011
Feb 21, 2011 at 12:06 PM UTC
Inspired by Shelley's quote IF WINTER IS AT HAND CAN SPRING BE FAR BEHIND? I ended the poem on a positive note....
Always complaining of life...
I did not have the zeal to strife...
Lies,betrayal and heart breaks killed me from inside...
But still I had put up a smile on the outside..
Tired I was facing the world's mockery...
All I had witnessed was only treachery...
Life was a game which I couldn't play well...
And from the mountains of ecstasy to paroxysm of sobs I fell...
There were umpteen questions in my mind...
The answers to which i never could find...
WHY did every happiness come drenched with sorrow??
When we never had another heart to borrow..
Many times I wished to die...
When the heart inside did cry..
WHY did relationships end....??
And everytime to the FATE we had to surrend.
Shattered were those sweet dreams..
And all I could hear were screams..
The sweet memories of childhood I missed...
When mother's kiss was a moment of bliss...
With the advent of time, things changed...
And everything around seemed to be more strange..
The excruciating pain I just couldn't bear
And always thought that life wasn't fair.
Why did people break the trust?
When the heart of theirs was itself but a carnival of rust..
There is no point in being sad..
When we know that sometimes life can prove to be bad...
The relentless march of Time is inevitable..
And there comes a day when happiness is totally unmatchable...
The stories of the past are inexplicable..
And there are very few who are dependable..
There are very few whom we treasure..
Just because their mere presence brings pleasure..
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC
Dark waters ripple thought.
horse drawn carriage tread
voltaic wires, throbbing brain.
lorn elation until osculation
of lips dreamt nightly.
nectarous skin float
between fingers raptured.
everlasting sand blown
from ashes wrought with
doubt.
paroxysm of senses like electric eels
wreck ties bound by vituperation.
Breath like honeyed vapor,
encased rouged cheeks.
savored time in bottles, minutes
turned to minerals mined.
hours of golden flecks
splashed in synthesized
unison.
New always, love evermore.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
check out the word choices
break not only the fourth wall
but also the ceiling and the floor
implore implore implore implore
for the chance to have it all
or just for the voices
to let you have a voice
no
instead you have discord
city worlds go time digital backup
word press history calendar fuliginous
warfare paroxysm burst constitution
first amendment second amendment
state duma seven clip monitor hotel
bravo checkpoint charlie tension
dark power in this hour
lame duck
****
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
Eyelids flicker
Under eyelash sheaths irises roll and pupils dilate
Hands clench sweat-soaked sheets
Clinging onto cliff edges of their minds
Lips mumble incoherent protests
Begging for a release not available
From the captors in their head
Until you are released, dropped if you will
The fall. The jolt.
The few seconds of paralysis
Caught between the paroxysm of colour left over from your mind's eye
And the cool darkness of your room
Your breath catches, your pulse slows
And you fall back, oblivious, into many hours of vividly shadowed dreams before dawn
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
the pathophysiology of
you and i
something between
love me so ******* hard i
combust and
caress the sharpest edges of me
gently, softly
sometimes it’s only in the aftermath of lust
that we begin to dismantle people
now we’re in the graveyard of
all things good.
i am like a child
innocent in my adoration and
my cells respire for you
skin yearns
because i am foolish
you were a paroxysm
of breathing in light
fast
i found the atlantis
in your eyes
and then drowned in the
distillation of colour
your lungs were
coated in lies
that i breathed in
like air to survive
so dismantle the self
deconstruct the heart
find the morphology of love
for it was not shaped like
us
Feb 12, 2017
Feb 12, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
stand like that, babe,
don't undress, tonight
stand, looking at the moon,
stand, turning your **** to me.
oh as I imagine the
moist gingerholes that lie
behind those cheeks.
oh the borderline:
mezzanine - that's polite
for everything fine
on the bottom floor, isn't it?
what's the word for it -
paroxysm? stand that way:
no sight like hindesight,
as they say, flashlight,
watertight, those plugpoles
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
A bit of coke,
little drag of smoke,
nothing suits me
like the
sip of gin
trickling down
your lips
I’m hoping for an ashtray,
a pinch of crystal on
my wrists to feed
these veins
from a dehydrated paroxysm
Never settle for a
sober embrace or
the scent of your
showered skin
But I’ll take the drug,
the need
(a scar)
to burn naked purity
if it means I’ll
always be gone
Aug 25, 2012
Aug 25, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
When time ceases and your world falls apart,
When trepidation clouds your imminent future,
For when everything you ever held onto is lost,
and your thoughts shamble past your once glimmering eyes;
For when you stop moving your dexterous arms and just lay,
You feel pain surging through your veins,
Detriment taking over exuberance
fighting your self doubting mind off of deranged thoughts;
For once you feel the need to close your eyes
and fight off the impassiveness that blocks your sight,
For once you just wish this wound would heal,
For your toiled life to just ease into calmness,
To be ridden off the weight piled on your fragile shoulders;
Your mind seives through various ways
To feel the ubiquitous presence of ethereal light,
To curl up in it's peacefulness and inevitably give into it;
Tranquility takes the place of hurt
like an addictive shot of cannabis dissolving into your system;
You feel the penetrating urge to hold on to it
To reach out to your sliver of hope with your scrawny fingers
and grasp it tight,
Your hope of a world inoculated against the social stigma,
Rid of narcissus and his obnoxiousness;
Where for once in your troubled life you would not have to hide;
You feel your numb fingers closing over something sharp,
Possessed by an unquenchable thirst for freedom,
Wanting to insinuate yourself with the ethereal glimpse of hope;
Your breath lies between the blade of wishful virtuality and reality;
Reality, a now tormented word,
a word defining a world arisen out of
A never satisfying greed for power and erudition;
You fathom your cognisant mind to construe the moment,
To feel a sharp paroxysm of pain, a flush of wrong;
An ardor to redefine reality,
To concoct the mundane world scrupulous,
To write the wrong;
The heart now pumps blood of valiance,
Belligerence to cause insurrection,
A piquant taste to live builds up,
To fight for righteousness and to die of victory,
For it is in our nature to fight;
The blade falls into the pit of cowardice,
And reality has been chosen;
Chivalry triumphs over death
and the **** that time is begins to run rampant;
The crusade soaring in your mind now vanquished,
Your fragmented scorched life now meaningful;
For you have been reborn,
a master of time and chaste;
Reborn into a warrior,
one who has fought off the wards of death;
Whose prudence his armour,
Benevolence his weapon,
Candour his speech,
Dauntless his demeanour and
Intrepid his blood.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I'm
So
****
Disoriented
In between
Lines
And irretrievable
Touching
Paroxysm
Creaking
Me awake
For hours
On end
I'm
Tight - lipped
Tongue - tied
Dumb struck
Still
Ever since
Your slam
Of the
Door
That point
Of entry
That
Could
Have
Lead
Us
Nothing
Never
Now it's
Nowhere
And
You're
Never
No where
Now you're
Nothing
At all
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 7:41 PM UTC