"spasmodically" poems
Live
inside the execution chamber
a stocky warden
poker-faced and middle-aged
begins
the medieval ritual
with words of cold indifference
addressed towards
Ted's emotionally dead
terrified head.
A warder
grim-faced
stands to one side
arms folded
as two others
begin to buckle
thick leather straps
around Bundy's ankles
wrists and chest
to the chair.
No cold condolences
the electrodes
on top of his head
a black mask
covering his face
until the signal is given
a raised arm
to the executioner
hooded in black
who pushes a lever.
Bundy's body arches
spasmodically convulses
tensely straining
paroxysms
the neck taut
head stretched back
blood oozing
from the nostrils
then slumps
and is pronounced dead.
The warders
remove the crown
and mask
unbuckle the straps
as the chamber empties
and the executioner
doffs the black hood
to reveal
appropriately
a beautiful woman.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
The first time
I saw a ******
I saw it in the open legs
of a smouldering woman
pockmarked by bullets,
and her curly black
hair
was pink
with brains like worms.
Her knees shook
spasmodically
like spider's
when you smush
them under your thumb.
The first time
I saw and
held a gun,
I yanked it from my father's
eternal fingers.
His head was open too,
and it buzzed
in a black rain of flies.
They were shooting,
and little plumes
of dust
exploded all around my feet.
Whizzing, Banging, a roar
of warfare, and I burned myself;
the shells kept falling against my skin
as I held that AK
squeezing
and falling
as the gun
pow'd
and recoiled.
Little bubbling lakes of skin
hurt my arms for days.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Marijuana is tempting me
we all have our moments (and)
you're going to hell
hands twitch spasmodically on the windowframe
belly white fire from below
You make me sweat
and fidget
and pace
hair shining ravenlike at dawn
God kills all our children while
America revels in buisiness suits
the poor man beaten down
Listened to your tired song 30 hours straight but
felt no comfort in the melody
smoked 10,000 cigarettes
waiting for the Christian Apocalypse
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 5:09 PM UTC
Bundled rags,
As much a bed
As clothes,
Hang forlorn
From limp hand
That shakes
Spasmodically
As tears mingle with
Dirt fleck mist
Father, Mother
Grandma
Granddad
Sweet sister
Baby brother
All gone
On the train
Leaving you behind
To weep
At your loss
Now
And forever
In the future
This then
The last train
To Auschwitz-Birkenau
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 3:01 AM UTC
BLT you challenged me
You made me rhyme deliberately
When through the years my poetry
Was written quite spasmodically
A year apart or every day
It didn't matter either way.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 6:47 AM UTC
Spasmodically chaotic
Flies the embryonic tonic
Through the veins and to the brain
Heart and soul are now defiled
Complicating, hating
Imitating, devastating
Dying stars so full of scars
Schizophrenia’s inner child
Ash to ash and dust to dust
Sanity begins to rust
Bleeding laughter
From beneath the mourner’s veil
Carried on into the dawn
Imprinted on the demon spawn
Unresting and ingesting
The dismembered and impaled
The bones of the alone
Rattle on in monotone
Resurrecting and collecting
Tortured ghosts of minds depraved
Humanity receding
Feeding on the need for bleeding
Leaving mental catacombs
Eternally engraved
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 3:02 AM UTC
Striking, turquoise genetics,
douse my cries in grieving resplendency,
for my naked soul
weeping has become almost a dependency //.-
familiar devil's hands
tucking me into home-made bones;
conscious, automatic,
////-..f-feelings sporadic ///.-.
I..-///.-.. ..I.///.-./.
I am not on my own,
shambling skeletons, rocking out upon the dance floor,
twerking to a cathartic post-punk sound -
jagged multi-colour squares flashing spasmodically,
jumping and jiving all over the ground,
crowds of pretty girls in leather tops,
thrashing their hips to the beat,
moving in fluent passion
skin blushed, dripping and sweaty from the heat,
whilst the darkness spoons out mousy doe eyes,
trading them in for introspective sight
colliding souls gyrating blindly
beneath schizophrenic light
curdling their kaleidoscopic hearts, tainting them homologous -
rubbed raw from a crass reflection,
hammering lips to robotic DNA
.//-. dr-...dru- //
drugging our minds for a complexion that's perfection.
AJ/SF
#cheekyrepost
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:00 PM UTC
By avenues vague and secret,
visited by devils and regret,
whither the Wraith of Manes
stands firm and tall and reigns,
thither in the dark acres stead;
and like a vapor inside my head,
lingers there to haunt and spread.
Abysmal troughs and a great deluge,
and rifts, and dens, and silva's huge,
with silhouette's none can recover
for the weeps that pour all over;
ridges plunging into Nevermore,
into waters devoid of any shore;
swells that spasmodically aspire,
upsurging in welkins full of fire.
For in my soul regrets are legion,
but it's an irenic and placid region-
because the wraith which did haunt,
is now seen as wispy, thin, and gaunt.
I wend my way straight through him,
and I refuse to ever again view him.
The Wraith of Manes is now banished,
from terrible dreams, now vanished.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
The shower is a wonderful place
to dream,
to play make believe,
to relive the moment.
You can shut yourself in,
adjust the cascade of hot water
& get lost in sensuous thoughts
privately.
Singing &
shouting at will,
you build
to an explosive crescendo
imagining your sweet lover
hovering over you.
And soon,
under a rushing waterfall,
she receives your warm love
spasmodically
against the white-tiled wall
as you call her pretty name.
O, What a crying shame,
she's not here
to catch
my falling star!
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 6:37 AM UTC
I play to the tempo
of a different sort,
when I visualize
what you do to me,
such contortions,
changing course
with hardened blazing-steel,
it feels so real.
I feel
the rush of the waves,
stimulating me,
building to a crescendo,
& I think I want
this to last forever.
But near the brink,
my breath shortens,
then I shudder,
arc explosively,
spasmodically
clenching myself
with your grip
to a sweet emptiness,
Here alone
I lie breathless,
thinking of your tender caress
& dreaming
of your succulent-fragrance.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:46 AM UTC
the periodic table of gods--
is elementally overturned.
as their accretions leave the
columns of the Parthenon
betwixt.
so the semantics of myth &
legend can copulate in peace.
with tinctures of chaos spasmodically
preconceiving release~
Dec 1, 2023
Dec 1, 2023 at 2:33 AM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
I see it for some time and then it fades away
On a bad day it might stay with me a little longer
Hunger is the thing or so they say to get you moving
I heed no adage having
heard them all before
not one of them changed a thing for me
the ghost is always at the door
but then it fades
or is it me that disappears?
At other turns of time there's a rhyme for most occasions
and on occasion occasionally I find in there a rhyme
lots of time for that to be
an occasion
occasionally.
He
with the hooded eyes and eagles claw
is he one more ghost come to knock upon my door?
It doesn't bother me
a
comfort and a lover
she
is all and more
and keeps me
far away
from the
ghosts
that knock upon my door.
I **** alas spasmodically
the shivers really get to me
she's there
by my side
with her hand in mine
and my hand is the hand
of time
that drew the line
that stopped the clock
the hand that made the rhythm
rock,
the ghosts still knock.
I know it's sometimes better the devil I know
but I really don't know him at all.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
Screaming underwater,
I look up to see no bubbles.
My damaged lungs explode with regret.
Spasmodically gasping for air,
I choke on the tears of my words.
My eyesight closes in around me,
As I plummet into the abyss.
If I hadn’t have opened my **** mouth.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 1:37 PM UTC