"skewered" poems
born in illusory chains
gnarled metal
encrusted in my broken skin
the copper colored dust
of rusted steel
infectiously envelopes
shaving off antiquated layers
of fundamentalist religion
encrusted for generations
unpeeled until raw
an unsophisticated method
unveiling
ancient lodged glass shards
colored with deceit
brought before their court
interrogated
unfathomably skewered
an eerie salem witch trial
in modern times
barbarically they shun me
banished
i wander aimlessly
smelling the rotten decay of deceased community
as splinters pierce my feet
from the crooked wooden plank
i walk alone now
an unfathomable inner ache
kindled a residue within
igniting a wildfire from the darkest shadows
uncontainably erupting
i dance savagely
naked in the orange moonlight
and in every shaded edge
lit my soul ablaze
i am a nomad sheep
‘tho not one of their color
no pasture to contain me
no shepherd i can follow
theological safety nets
no longer there to catch me
bohemian-like
i plunge
free falling
plummeting
stripped wide open
magically
fearlessness
reverses gravitation
floating
untethered
i soar amongst
apricot tinged clouds
my skin still wet from rebirth
and rise with the flaming coral sun
you cannot destroy me
i twisted in your decrepit pencil sharpener
and with fresh mettle
cut through the chains that bound
you can have my ego
but you cannot have my soul
dismantling domestication
transcending limitation
wildly untamed
i fly
©2016janetaylor
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
vegetarians rock
we don't derive satisfaction
in skewered meat, spit kebab, meat buffet or a banquet
we are told of how much we are lacking in nutrition and protein
we don't mind to eat tempeh,tofu,lentils,eggs,diary or skewered vegetables
we are vegetarians of family preference, religious reasons, animal rights or health issues
researches found that your love takes twice more
requires so much energy to digest
more energy less fatigue and stress
to live long without stroke, heart attack, high blood pressure or diseases of kind
well I'm not cynical, eat small pieces
just because we don't hear
just because we don't see
doesn't mean it's not there
the pain these creatures we domain over feel
heartless humans without hearts to feel
maybe we open blind eyes
maybe we turn deaf ears
to them
but I tell you it's there
we hear and
we see
we are different from you
we are different from the ways of the world
we love it
we are vegetarians and
we rock!
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
a butterfly caked with dust
a cathedral black as rust
an **** of satanic lust
but who, O fool, can you entrust?
you prance and sneer, put on a frown
call Believing people stupid clowns
in moors with bogs to drag you down
a place of darkness where you drown.
Marilyn Manson had his kicks
devil's music, Satan's licks
laugh, say Jesus is for hicks
ignore the goads, ignore the ******
we're all worked up? in a stew?
while you scream like skewered shrews?
kohl your eyes with blackest goo
party's in hell?
**THE JOKE'S ON YOU.**
SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/13/2015
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 11:22 AM UTC
frozen in time he was quite the spectacle
thick rimmed frames traced rigid lines
projected from kaleidoscope eyes
sharp with the corners of unknown dimensions
caught hot handed
both in expectation and reminisce
so awkwardly present
most nights
he spins fairytales
double-dipping moons in molten watches
skewered with his arms
these wooden poles
stirring the coals buried in ashes
he steps lightly.stomps
dances with the rings of saturn
then rolls like thunder
chasing Zeus's sore words
zig-zagging down to earth
ooohhhh…..
he may not melt hearts with that shoodoop
that bebop
but they break for his habit of
making promises
he who holds time in the cave below his tongue
which now juts left off the reef of his lip
slip into
trip - - - skip
fall.into.this.
go mad for the pitch of his sweat
glaring at the spotlight
Dalí
painting worlds in the moments
between your ears and soul
he is god to their populations
and their hymns excite
rhythms ignite
visions of hard candy
tumbling your teeth smooth as river stones
he does not belong in a gallery
no high tipping wine sipping city slicker big wig
should ever feel comfortable in his blast radius
he makes bombs from tribal instruments
wigwam concoctions
set to test resting souls for pulses
paradiddle defibrillator
triplet stent for arteries
he is tall
and now thin
pressed against the wall as if under interrogation
splitting breath from its carbon
asphyxiated by the frame
he spells his words with motion
I find him
mute
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
He turned around and looked at me
And his vision made me sick
So I ****** his eyes out of his skull
And skewered them on a stick
Roasted on an open flame
Turning evenly to toast
Hoping as his pupils pass
It's me he sees the most
Tongue chewed from within his face
No screams of discontent
He tried to say, "you're beautiful"
But lies on the tongue ferment
His rancid meat is useless
So I feed it to the worms
Now, wasted words are gasps for air
And no longer my concern
He tried to write, "I'm sorry"
With fingers drenched in blood
So I chopped them into pieces
And spread them through the neighborhood
So as I whispered in his ear
Of all his evil ways
I saw that bitter molten tube
Grow solid as it swayed
So I ground it into sausage
While it was still attached
And wondered, quite in passing,
Why unto me he chose to latch
So here we are me and my feast
And him bleeding on the ground
As buzzards rend the flesh from bone
With me laughing at the sound
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
The smoke circled halo,
Bent smiles and summoned demons,
Brimstone come a reverent silent
And obeyed sort of way.
I let my left eye avoid.
I’d let my right dream,
As I munched skewered calf,
Innocent, slaughtered, salivated
And my only excuse – Survival.
Toe-to-toe with
Home-field advantage
I nodded from shadows
To the one who scented venom;
Lace tucked slightly thigh,
She’d wink and hours later,
The demon would meet the Devil
And she’d devour –
All I’d known,
All I’d ever know
And all we’d ever be.
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
I
At night, I search for the wrench
I lift it off my nightstand
I lie down on the workbench
the cool weight held in my hand
what I must loosen first is my knee
lull myself to a state of repose
leg is a swollen trunk of a tree
placidity the pain soon outgrows
ache that is green
ache that is ivy,
ache that is wrapping
around me
entirely.
being disarming,
the way that a friend will--
in no way harming,
I pry up one tendril,
My ache and I have just locked eyes
I turn my bolt counter-clockwise
just one half turn.
making way t’ward release,
pain is adjourned
to finally find peace
II
And in the factory,
It seems I was wound too tightly
Deemed satisfactory
Now, I relieve pressure nightly
The bolt pushes in such a way
it leaves the metal bent
Relief is not given away
but instead it is lent
pain that is sharp
pain that goes squish,
pain that is swimming
around me
like fish.
The pain in my head
a pain bright white
Will surely spread
If not done right
My head and I sob, throb, and cry together
And then I finally sever the tether
spin one full revolution,
Though I know it's unwise,
Lets in nightmare pollution
Maybe last night’s reprise
III
At night, I will always search for the reasons
Why is it that bad things happen to good people
I lie down and lament each of the seasons
If it’s about church, I’m skewered on the steeple
Now plaguing me is my dear heart
O! Please don't think me frigid
It’s how to be, if you are smart
Walls that throbbed become rigid
want that is lace
want that is divine,
want that dissipates
completely
in time
Wincing at every twinge
Heart so hollow it awards me pain
Lace is fraying at the fringe
Meteor in my orbital plane
said it flutters and feels flighty
prescribed one spin righty tighty
Then, compact are the loves I hold,
Locked in my heart airtight
No space empty or left cold
I wish you all goodnight
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 5:06 PM UTC
The sadness continues and hilarity ensues:
With a close eye on the test tube, I burn down my venues.
Foxes and diamonds from the cancer within you
Grace my ****** health with phrases that spin you and
Body-parts scattered beside collapsed ladders with
Hair torn and tattered and dog jawbones shattered,
Deceived by a tarot-card-reading man with a hook hand
Who said the scam was a means to increase public demand
Before walking through sewers to see old friends skewered
On trees made of wire with leaves like computers
From Silicon valley rejects who were top of their classes,
Oblivious to the fact that they're dead to the masses,
Who only want cellphones that tell them their names,
So they can remember who they are and from whence they came
And how old they will be on their final birthdays,
When sunlight and skies will be fluorescence and X-rays
And children will tell all their mothers to die slow,
Because they're looking for something more loving than "I know
How much you hate yourself and the world surrounding
Because the applause at your funeral won't be resounding,
Plus your father loves alcohol more than your sister,
Who you may not have known, had your father not missed her,
Which is why all the walls are covered in blisters
And there are cat's eyes and hands peering out of the ******
To which there is no reply, save for incredulity,
For as we collectively die, you all put on all your jewelry,
Which was made by a child with no concept of labor,
Who gets less respect than sweater-vest wearing men in the paper
Who get there by switching the flow and catching the vapors,
Like sentient parasites or intelligent tapeworms
Who tell me it's unhealthy to meet someone and hate her
Simply because when I look at her all I see is the savior.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:57 PM UTC
Light; form shadow; cast shadow
and it drags on, and on.
Across the ridges in the marbled concrete,
like the dark hiding behind, until the light ends.
What is it like, to have your head
separated from the rest of you,
and cast to the side? Like the head
of the Afghani citizen, skewered
on a rock by the barbarians who trudged
through, and ended the light of the unarmed.
Casts for crayfish, to sew their claws
back on so they may hold their heads
up high into the dimming light,
as Canada steals the sun away.
Bridges for peace and walls
that break between river and canal
where teenagers row, stroke after stroke,
down past dead deer and graffiti.
Where the two Puerto Rican brothers
hid the pieces of their mother in garbage bags,
after they chopped her up,
like minced vegetables. He said
the helicopter hovered
feet before their boat, while black
plastic bags rose from the depths
filled with carbon dioxide made
from decomposing flesh.
As my hands danced across his back
I told him I walked along that wall
to watch fireworks, or catch glimpses
of a weasel that lived within the rocks.
The wall was not built for the disposal
of mothers,
but for the seagulls. So that they can drop
their prey against it, until the shells crack
and their warm innards
are spilled out upon it
like the hot Afghanistan sand.
Aug 11, 2011
Aug 11, 2011 at 8:21 PM UTC
eternally indebted to imagination for facts, educated beyond my intelligence,
reminded by memory, skewered through by shame,
the biggest negligence-- trust
humbled by an unseen odourless mass of guilt gas-- subdued, I succumb to the game
but even this shall pass, for oblivion is kind, not crass
on this you can depend
unknown how or when
for the clever, the headstrong, the deft
nothing's left
gone too long
gone forever
love bereft
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 12:14 AM UTC
The spout
Of the battle
Shouting
In inconsiderate
Babble about bling
While i'm saddling
My steeds
Manning the machines
And breathing easy
Before i speak
Clearly to your dreams
Interjecting the theme
Of the losing team
Cheering in victory
Snickering in mockery
I remarkably sing
In drowned out tones
And zings
And i'm gonna be
Everything you been
In a week
And its weak
That i win
And you grin
With your arms up
Hooray!!
But you lost today
Too dumb to know it
But showin it
To everybody
Rhyming
Isn't about money
Its about diction
Metered rhymes
And harmony
Arming the
Alarmingly
Disarming memes
Of scattagoried kings
Euphorically
Seized
In the lean
Of delivery
Creativity key
The breezy
Sleezinous
Sheened
In the has beens
Gassed up
Gin drunks
Grunting whats
In response to love
Callin bluffs
On the tuffs
Of your huffs
And shrugs
Whatever punk
I got a foot on you
And your ****
On my side
Talking over you
Until you shut
Out the light
With your mouth
Over your eyes
And your house
Of flies sized up
In tough love
And shoved off the shores
To the unexplored oceans
In the notions
Of severed portions
Aborted with a snorkel
In the cortex
Of Oxygenated
Brains showing you
A thing or two
So ******* vein
Watching you strain
To speak
To breathe
To think
When your ready
Il be brief
A pat on the back
And declaration of king
Before you bend over to be
Blessed by the best
In this contest
Im tested
Only of my patience
In the vagrancy
Of your empty words
Freshly matured
In manure
Skewered
In the lured
Obscurity
Muraling
The masterpieces
Stealing thesis-es
With the soul content
Of cheeseless pizzas
Sauceless in the lossless
Belligerence
And im tempted
To kiss
My fists
And commence
To smash out the comments
To astonished onlookers
Booking for Brooklyn
When im shooting
Blood across the pavement
With fury of a patient
To fairfax and back
To break the bones
Of your home
Set your soul apart
From the heart
That pumps lumps
Of ********
From the start
Of your every sentence
Ill take two seconds
To count on your blemishes
To settle this
In nubbish
*******
Stumbling
From a kid
Im only kidding
In my giving a single ****
Get with it
The mic is yours
And ill freely admit
To being bored
Here you go
....
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 4:44 AM UTC
So, I flipped curiously through every page
Of the infamous grimoire by the golden mage
Once I had finished I knew the lonely road;
The dance of the bones and the hermits code!
The depths of the wood were surrounded by light
Not from a star but from a moon so bright
It was the day of the harvest and it was mine
Searching for my tool to reach the divine
Where was the beast of grit and slime?
Down by the stream where he spent all his time
So, I marched to the creek with a hasteful stride
To locate the toad to make my sorrows subside
The reflection of my spherical guide
Gleamed brightly off the waters own hide
A night so fine that it would surely evoke
The call of the creature; it's cowardly croak
A sound rang out from the side of the creek
there lay a frog hopping through the leeks
Aha! I said. I have found you at last!
I can finally devour the evils from my past
I took him in hand to find the perfect tree
One with deadly thorns to set his soul free
I found the faultless plant with spikes so great
The night was high and it was time to penetrate
As I skewered the beast i felt no remorse
Such is the way to make a toad-corpse
His movement now faded he was no longer beast
I knelt to an anthill to give them a feast
After the insect army had consumed all his flesh
I placed his bones in my pack made of mesh
Turned to the north to head back to the river
To the shallow depths the bones I must deliver
Dropped them in the current to see which remain
If none of which stayed my attempt would be vain
I stood there and stared to see how i'd fair
and to my approval only one lay there!
Reached through the liquid to grasp my magic tool
Raised my hand of power to summon the ghoul
Oh, Sacred waters of the moon!
Bring me Sabatraxas to whom I might swoon!
The wind began to howl its childish laughter
The spirit I had summoned would come soon after
To grant me with a blessing or so the lore said
or Was I just a fool evoking my death bed?
Surely enough he ascended from below
I will teach you everything you need to know;
and destroy the ailments that butcher as you sleep
For only in rest shall you find the need to reap!
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
“but you are too old for apprehension.” her
voice had sounded so, and of this one’s voice,
‘you are never too old for wariness of
an unknown.’ responded astute, drunk
on logic. returned was breathless thought
to the void, filling emptiness with irony.
(oxymoron) and weened the way thru,
concision turned derision with repetitious
definitions that found no actual meaning.
all thought without justification and no
thought with classification. words,
actions, wailing:
empty, empty, empty
then existed less and less from want
of purpose. less and less from interest of
the known; this once forged fear of life. and
with impressive derangement, grabbing at the
only sober keychain. they, with twitching vesper eyes,
their hands jit’ for a false-meeting fix. to nix
the nihilism. and:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
words of this one’s voice. of her’s, “thank
god you’re alive.” from those days, when rains
ranted down, and the trains tripped us out.
those days of our wood’s reclaimed trailer. and
each syllable was never thought to be anything
until aged eyes ached for review those epochs
of breath. but:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
voiced in response to a romanticized thought. and
all epochs lingered upon are no more than a
journal of the winds that blew while we were present.
some diary of listless lust left undated. of the woods, of
a reiterate span in once anonymized transience. and falling
back, thumbing pages for proof of experiences passed into
skewered memory. left are three lines, ill-verbed, to represent
an entirety of past lives. of time once present in yellow-lit
motel room, of apocalyphic musings, and veering prophets
of doom. they, turned sincere apocalyphites. their prayers
writ boldfaced, platitudinous, in concern of endless words
restating – in constant rephrasing:
‘People can go **** themselves.’
but they just kept goin’ on without concern for the dawn.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 5:26 AM UTC
Flame-licked wantons chase
Skewered scorpions
And tofu-tossed blood
To the echoes of heroes howling
“Gambei!” (“cheers!”) and a
Smoke stained Huacheng Road.
Like a scribe before the oracle,
I tuck atop hydrant,
Squatting in an unfamiliar scene
And allow this ink to sink atop paper;
An artist, not so much, but a dreamer
With firecrackers for brains
And brains for the scene
And sense of it all –
I could get lost in this madness;
I could fall in love with this madness.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
Once at the end of the song
I conquered many evils of the past
I purged them all, so wrong
Fine and well, a time it went along
Never asked a prickly question
Once at the end of the song
But they knew, their hurt could prolong
Upon my direction and then fester, so
I purged them all, so wrong
Patience tested, mind paused, strong
Resolved to end their laughter, yes
Once at the end of the song
Told to ignore, forget, to just belong
No, their first move invited mine
I purged them all so wrong
I skewered their legacy, twist and oblong
Their faces, masks, veils of evil
Once at the end of the song
I purged them all, so wrong
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Write me a melody.
Nothing too simple, though that’s what you lead on
Building a bridge over a lake of fire
Ah!
If only fire could swim
Grilled fire on a side of living gargoyles.
Forked tongues shoveling rice,
And chicken,
Into a newly refurbished brain.
Does it burn?
All the seaweed and hackneyed
Washed up krill,
Burnt up, skewered, and caught in the nets.
New mesh scales
Mashing mesh sha shooting into the skin
While the sun circles
And the animals follow and dance
Preying themselves into everything you’ve done
As though you’ve done anything new.
Like addition multiplication,
Surely you’ve done all of that.
A tear in the paper
And you’ve spilled the white out.
What a mess.
A great tear in the universe
Arranged.
Separate colors of
Grass and sky,
The trees and sidewalks form into one.
Everyone adjoined and nothings lost
Because even this idea has a partner.
What a lovely
(shattered)
Dream.
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
* Tumbling,
Tossing,*
Dawn, midnight-midmorning’s crossing.
Comatose in an arcane ether-realm, I’m watching.
Through the pastel, piercing mountains –rifting, I lay drifting.
The curtains parting, releasing two daylight captives, falling.
*Tumbling,
Tossing,*
Unfinished dolls of porcelain, tangled mess of hair -streaming
A girl, brunette, no eyes, no lips –smiling or screaming.
She wears dress in tones of pallid, matching his wee bow-tie -stark against jacket wafting.
Their skin, fire-cast, spare of flush, their jointed arms –like birds, flapping.
*Tumbling,
Tossing,*
The boy finds rest in clouds where birds lay nesting and mists –gently cresting.
He’s posed, his hand exposed, for her hand, inanimate, he’s reaching.
She’s losing ground rapidly, with but mock sense of gravity, while in clouds peaks are breeching.
Chest shattering, glass chattering,
*Tumbling,
Tossing.*
Skewered bodice, broken bits of her calling, giving rise to the blind though she’s not yet done falling.
All at once, his cries come with his fresh face & his babbles, nearly maddening.
Struck with the frozen bite, eyes & lips bursting –painted from her plasticine features -her tears biting and cries raging!
From her inky tears is drawn a river, running, gently cradling before suddenly she’s drowning!
*Tumbling!
Tossing!*
Through the waves, her ceramics washed to skin- her hollow, broken chest now heart beating & lungs pleading!
She takes her breath from the dark waters of her rift, living tattoos on her skin now flourishing, blossoming!
Her soul, wide-awake, taking root in her skin; finding wading too shallow, she seeks higher things of depth & so flies with a lofty dive into the heavenly expanse of underwater, pitching stars for her catching.
Paying one last glance at her lost mate, cowering, she leaves him sobbing after her on a path he won’t be following.*
Tumbling,
Tossing,
Surviving,
to Surpassing
...
She is Rising
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:33 PM UTC
A cold place
(long hallway, dying breed)
paints itself warm with
the contagions of
skewered cerebellum.
A void of frame
shows a warmer, longer
hallway, with monochrome pillars;
opens up into charcoal sky:
painted by the charcoal eye.
Yet, fear –
later, below a wooden cross,
rests the screaming of a thousand
souls.
I SHOULD FLEE
Escape is not an option.
It has me;
the color has me.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
I once saw a winter tree
With **** skewered on each branch
Next to the road
In the front lawn
Of my elementary school crush.
I once melted a coil of her hair
On a lightbulb
In her attic
I still remember the smell.
I do not remember the smell of the tree
I imagine it smelled like ****
I once watched return of the jedi
On a pulled out futon mattress
While my elementery school crush
And her two younger sisters
Explored each others bodies.
I ignored them.
I also ignored Carrie Fisher losing her entire planet.
Instead I watched their mother lose a game of majong on her dusty grey computer moniter.
She then sold some of the hoarder stash lining their walls on ebay.
This is where I learned to observe.
Being a fly in the tar pit is more honest then
Being a fly on the wall.
I do not remember the smell of starwars
I imagine it smells a lot like a woman
losing a game of majong.
I imagine it smells a lot
like sweat
and tears.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 7:07 PM UTC
Should I have realized
All that, looming over your head
Leaving a bright, luminous trail of enrichment
Skewered at the end of the longest famine in history,
(Everything dies and somehow
Never stops taking away your deaths)
And endless depths,
Was never mentioned in the volumes
Of the black books
Stored on the shelves
Of the libraries of Hell?
Should I have realized
That the flood and all its filth
The crumbled bodies and crumbled souls
Were kneeling at the doorstep
Of everybody's waking eyes
And everybody's closing minds
And the entrance to your world?
Should I have realized
That all these angels,
All these demons
These tangled webs
These newfound freedoms
All living seperate lives outside your reality
Were all essentially and undeniably
Cleared of all charges and metaphysical transgressions?
Jan 23, 2011
Jan 23, 2011 at 10:10 AM UTC
My words come out all slurred, blurred, and censored. My heart has a faulty bad juju sensor. My nerves are practicing voodoo, got me all wrapped up in hoodoo. Always asking 'how do you do?' As if you'd ask me too. My world is red, my world is blue. My vision is all kinds of skewed. Skewer me, skewer you. Skewered life 'cause it leaves us ******* Who needs to hear another boohoo? I'll kiss my own **** boo boos. Satan's calling me like 'yoohoo' I'll ignore him like you do me, all passionless and angry. I'm a dead fish in a dead sea just practicing my moaning, for when I'm see-through and lonely. Haunting the world as it's revolving, and it's kind of revolting- knowing life goes on, as you're decomposing. I'm shedding, I'm molting; these feelings of chicken skin and insects. It was really salmonella and pests, and I guess, what the point I'm really trying to get to is nothing, oh and **** you.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC