"thanatos" poems
'Healer' time take thy poor, black sheep,
and stop it from wondering
in the dangerous corners
of the mind,
because heaven and hell collided
inside a body and in unity they came
in the presence of all those
who conspired to it.
From the frontal to the occipital lobe,
dark thoughts obstruct
the brain’s watershed regions
and thanatos they bring.
The soul cannot take this coffin
anymore.
The stone is too heavy to carry;
sliding down and pushing up,
every night the pushing starts,
for the dawn, her courage to crack.
It may be like Hooke's law they say,
but bodies break down,
when people apply the extra force
and so do the souls,
long before.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
I am wrapped in her algid arms.
I am lost in her evocative glare.
I stand, environed by the Keres,
Those dilapidated demons.
Azrael, my craven shadow, clings
To me as a vulture stalks its prey.
Thanatos does each step possess
Forward into this acidulous air.
Fissured masks release languid screams
That fall upon pallid faces that have
Long since wilted in her Stygian womb.
Enervated laughs drone in mangy ears.
I stand on the periphery of this
Asphyxiating cistern. I ambulate
Across this sable field that shall
Become the executioner’s blade.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
He walked the hall
Deathly quiet
With a black book in hand
He wore a black floor length robe
He knew the times
When each life ceased
You see he was
The soul collector
But you know him
Best as the grim reaper.
Today
He was on a mission
To take a soul
On its journey home.
A soul of his choice.
And there she stood
Looking out the window
Her skin pale
Contrasting her raven hair.
Jade green eyes
Looked almost lifeless
As she watched the blossoms
Of the sakura trees
blow in the breeze
She smiled seeing him
As he reached for her
"You came for me..
I am glad..."
She died as she took his hand
As he led her away
He cherished her soul
So he sat on the throne
Waiting to start the next mission
However he wont be alone
The soul he took
He chose for his bride
His angel of darkness
The only comfort
For his eternally tormented soul.
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
You took my hope
to find the right path.
You tormented me
denied me a look at life
to entertain Thanatos.
**** you and your gods
who feed on misery.
You took my life
even before I woke.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 6:46 AM UTC
The serpent dips his head beneath the sea
His mother, source of all his energy
Eternal, thence to draw the strength he needs
On earth to do indomitable dees
Once more; and they, who saw but understood
Naught of his nature of beatitude
Were awed: they murmured with abated breath;
Alas the Master; so he sinks in death.
But whoso knows the mystery of man
Sees life and death as curves of one same plan.
2.5k
I guess blood ain't thicker than water
The way he held a gun to his head and said;
"If you don't **** me then I'm better off dead"
Now tell me it wasn't manipulation, and how was I not to falter
In saving myself from a man who already had caused me traumatizing trivialization
I guess blood ain't thicker than water
The way I held a gun to my head and you said;
"It's all for attention,"
I guess you thought me better to be dead.
But I tried to speak out, I tried to reach out instead
Only for you to slaughter
All hope I had sent.
I guess blood ain't thicker than water
Because people don't believe in saving grace.
Deliver me into my fate,
If I'm gone there will be no hate.
Maybe you'll see after Thanatos takes over-
A death drive to send me to a new place.
Tell the victim they're a liar,
Might as well say there's no such thing as ****
I guess blood ain't thicker than water.
A father gives up his daughter,
A mother faded away.
A brother whose got nothing to say,
A sister whose forgotten her place.
I guess blood ain't thicker than water,
Because I'll be drowning,
blood covering the counter.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
Become medieval when the rain starts –
put coins in my corset, they are pure gold & evil
and show the men using my Thanatos drive:
I could not care if they want me,
I could not care if they hated me alive.
Rather the leaf upon dress-breasts much as
a muzzle, came from a box of cardboard slits
opening like lady-legs. I bribe the thrash with my
whispers & wheels, promise to soak up sky’s tears
but she certainly prefers the black ash haul.
I bring myself to the top of a volcano, its arc,
convinced that it cannot soot me,
not in the rain: such scorch is unreachable.
There is this protruding spiral in the center,
going dark, a pupil. It eats my hair-ribbon and I
sweat, but I am upon all terrains of the Earth
prepared to fall into a clutch, the gold stain my skin
before peeling by storms, how plague-like I seem.
Could be on my back when it implodes –
though my skirt would not appreciate the mess,
I think the idea fine. I am already pink, red’s better.
Wires and flushed cheeks will be what they find,
the men, knowing that I could not care.
And I did not; it was not less than a shot of
lightning stuck under a petticoat, frilled for nobody
but the volcano who turns ********* to embers.
the rain that beasts eyelashes to amputees.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
You help me realize
Why I’m happy to have been given life
In parkour you make me feel free
Like a bird flying over trees
In spelunking you give me
Courage to explore the unknown without the fear of broken bones
yet
You keep me alive
In times of chaos and strife
You allow me to face Thanatos
To make me Abolish Fright
For today is The Day
I Stand and Fight
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
there’s a gun in my pocket
heavy with the essence of
another man’s soul
still swirling in the smoky barrel
in this dark corner of this lonely
and forgotten
bar is the man who played
Thanatos and brought to
inevitable conclusion the yearnings
of a single human life
in this corner, sipping cheap
whiskey
and smoking
foreign cigarettes is a
killer with a conscience
but you’d never know it
steady hands and
unwavering eyes
greet the bartender
I order another
shot
and pat my thigh, keeping
the soul in the chamber
for just a little longer
because, really, it’s my soul
that’s been stolen by that
gun in my pocket
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Death the copper penny, grief the rust.
Death the grain standing beside the road,
Death the rider, death the mare;
Grief the road.
Death the Greek invention. Thanatos.
Rather than that, those
stalks and seedpods brought to the mill
which, being destroyed
find purpose.
Grief the eater.
Aug 20, 2012
Aug 20, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
every moment
is continually shedding itself;
sloughing off the skin of time,
dying, into the past,
to freshen in exposure,
this moment.
to live, really
to breathe, by
impermanence.
constantly transforming,
the body is never solid,
here, there, as atomic flashes,
electrons popping in and out
of existence,
an appearance made,
to depart, in a flicker.
all turns off, like this,
always, eventually,
momentarily.
threshed and stripping
bare chaos
voraciously burns,
returning through extinguish
on smokey black horizons.
sinking, into
tendrils weaving,
knitting by fray,
tapestries engendered
by enveloping decease.
you feel this
don’t you?
unconscious
as much of it may be.
it is the nearest of near,
and dearly intimate,
passions corrosive kiss,
oscillating, opening,
to retract, in flow,
pushing in
to pull away,
thanatos is eros
together, apart again,
together-apart,
here-going.
the heart is aware,
supremely aware of this happening,
even when the mind is fooled
by apparent stability,
and the soul surrenders to
it's inevitability,
even hungering for
divine destruction,
as basic an urge
as the creative impulse.
to be composed
is to be subject to decompose,
fertilizing compositions
in cosmic chasms.
our lungs darkly shining
with every fall of the chest
mirroring,
each breath
one breath closer
to the final breath,
each exhale
a letting go
of what can’t be held
forever,
the expelled
foreshadows annihilation,
on the fading road, towards
this mortal coils entropic end;
a preparation.
to live, surely, is to meet loss
over and over,
to love, fully, is to grieve
again and again,
there is a deep
melancholic knowing
that exists in all living things,
water drops
tears like rain,
leaves fall
like sighs,
everyone,
and everything
dies.
our melancholy
might be sacred
could we truly embrace,
and feel, this reality:
death is the ever present condition.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
O Reaper,
dark jewel in the shimmering sea of night
sickly flower blooming in the garden
pale wanderer of the doom-bound desert,
weave for me a tapestry
and drape it over the blinking stars.
O Death,
sweet fragrance of the morning
rapping on the windowsill,
compose for me a symphony
to haunt my ears as I sleep.
O Ghost,
gentle and geriatric in the dim moonlight,
sweep off the collecting dust
and blow it into the four winds
to carry us off on the backs
of the eagles.
O Ghoul,
your silhouette as the sunlight dims,
carve for me a juniper tree
so that I may dance around it
and welcome thee.
O Plague,
humming in the breath of the insects
crawling on the furs of the beasts,
pour for me a strong drink
to quench the flames of my disease.
O Maiden,
creeping into cronehood as the clocks stop
drifting down the clear stream into the damp
floating with the smoke to be imprisoned
multi-faced and schizophrenic,
sing for me a rhapsody
a hymn for my church of undoing.
O Glacier,
still and monumental,
melt into the sea of shining
and polish for me a mirror
to see clearly a glimpse
of mortality.
O Thanatos,
born at the beginning of time
flowering into youthful beauty
falling corpse-like in the rocks,
kiss the clouds and the trees
and write for me some poetry
to ease me into the long sleep.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Thanatos
Holding death so close
A shudder of pain
Pleasure’s mundane
Keep me alive
For now I’ll thrive
On the edges of destruction
Staring into life’s reflection
Nothingness is near
Forever presently here
Feeling strongly the loss
Embrace the Chaos.
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 11:30 PM UTC
Nakedness and manifestations of the white noise mind traffic,
I watch the world turn before the fabricated glory of torches without flames and chariots without horses,
All saturated with the molecular movements of the air made with melodies not played for You,
This is the concrete sea of gasoline’s grace of novelties I once spoke of when I was a prince of sleepless men and my heart was determined to germinate the seeds of wicked kings,
Now with a crown cast down and cracked,
I am a dystopian eclipsing a dying sun to cast shadows on sleeping silent sinking houses,
As I watch them go down to where I've made my bed before,
I recall how they make me turn in my sleep before You,
Keeping keys deep below bowing floorboards whining with the weight of weeping willows grown by ghosts of a life once sewn and patched by my pity of distorted desperation,
My fingers keep my dreams from unraveling,
Locking them up tight tonight by hiding my face from it all,
Closing my eyes with my palms,
My lamps are bathed in blackness,
Darkness covers darkness,
And then I feel your hands lower the veil,
I see holes made by instruments of death forged in time,
Scarring You in a place that Kronos nor Thanatos cannot consider to tread,
I put my fingers through them,
I remember now that you paint such beautiful pictures,
Color me with your dreams now,
Your pigments have been poured out,
A gift was given to the dust,
Now I live to give it back to you,
And the haunted fluorescence of Babylon grow dim before your face,
The orchestral cries of mans machines grow silent,
Deep touches deep,
Sharing the oceans between us,
A love infinite consumes me
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Death affirms and is the term of life;
flesh and firmness, egg and ***** the means.
Breath interred within a Word and light,
deftly perched perpetually in-between:
born to discontinuous distraction,
borne through a contemptuous nadir;
but in a moment, all's destroyed,
and in the black and empty of the void,
a helix (and a hollow core) appears.
Baphomet the emblem of Its power,
sacrament the reverence revealing
devilment to Wisdom yet to flower,
absent comprehension of Its meaning.
Pan personifies the All unbounded,
flouts the misconceptions of the seeing:
Hermes the unmaskèd death,
Aphrodite's basking cleft,
the androgyne transcends within its being.
O - not called "the little death" in jest,
Gnosis vaunted in the ebb of Lust,
though is Not, the know'r of Life and Death:
know that All It Is is what thou Wast,
Its continuity the end thou seekest
in contemplation, *** and wist for death:
Thanatos, eternal sleep,
Eros, infinitely deep,
Generation poised to manifest.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:47 AM UTC
I dreamt of Freud yesterday
With his imposing air of superiority
Suffocating my need
To have a little autonomy
Libido and Thanatos
Runs past my mind in fast succession
Oedipus and Electra
Pauses the screen in motion
I dreamt of Jung today
Diving into the collective unconscious
Floating on the symbols
That is universally serendipitous
Archetypes and motifs
Flatter the culture of humanity
Anima and the persona
Sheds self unto the lights in harmony
I’ll dream of the future tomorrow
When everything’s all said and gone
The old will always be with the new
As written of past in stone
Though conflicts harbour trouble
And dreams reproduce it’s latency
Anxiousness is part of life’s bundle
So conquer it we must, positively
Nov 15, 2010
Nov 15, 2010 at 5:39 PM UTC
Real lies, unreal thing
Light me up just take a puff
Then once more until you huff
And again with feeling
Feel your life unreeling
Unrelenting
**Real eyes
Disillusioned**
Lungs replete with cloud of one thousand burning trees
Avert your gaze, look beyond the haze
So you'll fail to notice I etched the stress as wrinkles in your face
and smothered your Eros, imbued void in its place
**Realize
Dissolution**
Whether its reward or solace you seek
Inhale me, the vapors of your saving grace
I am everything you've hated to love and loved to hate
Unrepenting
*Now exhale your pain
Oh exalted Soul
Pity I bring you no relief
Rather, wield a sword*
Now as I overwhelm
And pull you down under
You can take the helm
But your vessels asunder
Your heart and lungs are now black
I harbor plague, yet still you'll come back
Because your peace of mind rests with me
In these most tumultuous tides
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Society, the people's forum
Where they learn about the rules and
Meet each other, understand the game
That they play every moment
They each introduce themselves
As one who abides by the social law
And convene in larger numbers
With those who are very much the same
They chit and chat and shoot the ****
They liff and laugh and moot on it
But what of those who aren't a part of it?
Simply because they just don't fit?
This is learned at a young age,
From our childhoods, life's book's first page
Rippling, growing, til' it reaches a stage
Until you're all alone, trapped in your head's cage
And God can't play the shepherd to the sheep
Can't bring you back to the flock
You're tired, worn, can't breathe or sleep
You age faster than the clock
The paranoia inside your mind grows strong
You're anti-social, not after long
Sideways thinking, upside down
A kingdom of one, you bear the crown
Psychotic sins and torture played
Thanatos and Eros, pleasure forbidden
More real to oneself, to the others, one fades
And appeals to oneself to make it all forgiven
In the social circus, in your own ring
Universes you ponder, death songs you sing
You recluse your mind, lost without intent to be found
For solitary freedom bests being amongst company, bound.
Dec 2, 2009
Dec 2, 2009 at 11:18 AM UTC
Underneath these artless skies
I marry the ghost within you
because the stories are now
screaming mad, and dark,
and every time your name
rolls unto my tongue, it thunders,
and I tremble, and tremble,
and like a thousand ships set against
the tide, I will my eyes to sleep;
cold as ice, mother, pray tell
how does one go to sleep when
Thanatos is the one weaving the
blanket; rather awake than dead;
half a heart than half a soul;
tell me if I open you up I'll find anything
other than flesh, other than nothingness;
you're so vacant and uninhabited, I forget
you're not an abandoned building;
tell me how I can go to sleep
without being woken up by the ghost
of you in my head, dancing to music
we once made when we touched; I'll
revisit those little joys, and maybe I'll
understand why empty vessels make
the loudest noise.
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 2:13 AM UTC
so long so painful this journey
to surrender myself anew like a bud full of tension
recognize you, reinvent the rituals of sensing
I weep in front of the threshold of spring
between eros and thanatos an excessive tenderness
I am well prepaired for the erosion of time in my hair
poetry and reality facing each other in my hands
I do not hope do not despair do not wait for grapes to wonder
it's just the taste of it, the feel of it, this quality of the infinite
that makes me look at you with androgynous complicity
Mar 11, 2023
Mar 11, 2023 at 9:44 AM UTC
Long ago I dreamt of mountains,
I dreamt of finding bliss,
I lay alone now, unfulfilled
I sleep in slime and ****
I travelled far, and left my home
In search of light and revelation,
But neither the road, nor the sky
Could sanctify my demons.
I sought to pray atop the spire
Where the clouds and mountains meet,
Though restoration of lost fire,
Is a mere idealistic dream.
I've had women, but never known love
For my impotency defines,
I bore not the mind nor matter
To obtain what could have been mine.
Bitterness, sweet bitterness
I make love to my cigarettes,
They keep me warm on coldest nights
When I am drowning in Solipsis.
In cinema, man is changed by journeys
But fictions are not always so,
For some wounds are beyond healing,
And I race now towards Thanatos.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 11:07 AM UTC
A swollen sun descends upon us.
small children at play with painted faces.
time is not an endless tick, one and then another
(the plague nearest our dwelling)
but a single broad and present moment stretching
out and on forever.
sometimes i feel my heart will burst
scattered about, then gathered up in a world of rag and bone.
seeds for the great harvest are but a payment for a
karmic debt -
a purple heart sacrifice of my broken hand -
a slice from stem to stern.
my eyes they sink into my head.
the world is a deep grey beneath the deep stars.
the constant chatter in the skull -
a fallen angel named Moroni.
my sunken eyes watch me lift the bad hand
the heathen of my good intentions -
the purple heart of a bad apostle
the shackles of my station
the facing of certain destruction within the grim Hallway of Anubis.
a single moment stretching on forever and a balancing of the heart.
a swollen sun descends upon the third circle of Hell - a place where I no longer live.
Aug 2, 2020
Aug 2, 2020 at 10:34 AM UTC
you
were following the leader
trusting him,
hardy figure of man
in a colorless world
with trees dead to the eye
thanatos thickets thick with quiet
that thrashed and slashed you
along the way
but you followed, sometimes
in sacramental silence,
other times crying out in penitent pain
did he not hear you
as he juggernauted through
those gnarled dead wooded webs
like he was steel?
and man of steel
is what you called him
when you grew to know him
was he too not flesh and bones
could he not hear your cries?
even deaf, could he not see
your man-child skin being bloodied
in this land of thorns?
how long could he keep marching
expecting you to keep up
like some soldier on an unholy quest
rather than his lost child
who could find no path
through this wretched plain of pain?
you could see only his back
as you ran to keep up
you could not have known,
though you are his legacy,
he has no face to bear scars
and when will you,
the innocent, discover
steel has no soul?
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC