"undeath" poems
Birthed from perfect unknown void,
Crescendos of unific silence
And a ****** ear reflecting,
A Gift between Two Brothers discontent
Interweaves them now and evermore
In fraternal ******* to a nondual realm.
A lightning seed of thought between two darks,
One light enough to fade the cosmic frown,
To be reborn in strife eternal,
And set the Cycle hastening to a Muse.
His flickering strands dehiscing essence,
The perfect fracture in a faultless whole,
It brings to bear the Change supernal:
The Triple Sequence timely folding,
Unfolds the Rhapsody of Seasons:
Wind, Sea and Earth alighting
Origins of Fire churning dim:
Clear rippling of finality forgotten,
New pressing through into existence,
Her gaze a creature to its own illumination
Renewed, with steaming boundaries... ragged breath:
Living sparks to contemplate the Stars,
And Satyr forward lustful genesis.
The hidden sun plays throughout the wood
A fragant melody of Light held fast,
Of Shadow pregnant and yearning
Bursting forth in spray of life subdued,
Laid low by Rhythmic pulse
And Timeless sea of tempoed mystery.
The hoard takes form, enraged--
A battle-morning's thralling mist of
Early spirits condensate to cling...
That vast blank anticenter dares to mock
With bated fragile brandishings, the
Violent frame of peace-horizons
Stepping out of step, Undeath whining
For a loss of Truth continual. Yet
Hope is wheeling her neoteric self
Upon that sovereign evanescence
Web-like spinning still, a prior sense,
A transfinite faultline of life yet unborn,
Of death still unwrought and wrought again
In hues of growth, and dreams of change,
Waiting silently for Books of Song.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
he is shimmering, and genial, and made from lego bricks
wraps my fog into empty nothingness
gives me his hand when i fall
all in dust and memories
he's my kiss of undeath
darkness falls apart
had a hope to sink in the sea of gently swinging hammocks
his seasons confuse me,
sitting cross legged inside of a dragon
that falls asleep in shallow oceans for so long
until people forget and believe its an island,
and build tiny houses and towns along his dragon scaled shores
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
Your eyes are dark
They hide your darkness within
Waiting to be ousted
Your lips are red like a rose
Full and bee stung
Your pose inviting me to take a bite
Come to me and be a creature of the night
I’d like to kiss your neck with butterfly bites
Hold you tight
In a death grip
Lead you to the undeath with breathless sighs of love
Deep within your soul as you stare into my ageless eyes
I’ll hold you tight as I bite
Caress you as you fall
As the death calls
I’ll let you feed on me
Finally when you are sleeping
I'll take you to my tomb
I’ll be your groom you my bride
We will hide from the sun that you need no more
Then when the pale moon rises we will hand in hand
Under its light
I’ll be your eyes your sight
The most important light in your eternity
Nothing will touch you my eternal red rose
As this is the life you chose
When you invited me to take a bite.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
tonight was an exact corpse
of beautiful slushy soap
foaming against the jowls of undeath
and life was roaming hitherwither
in slated motes of burning blood
turning sweaty beads of laughter
in the swollen wind of unday
peaking bravely over the many
glowing rictus wearing gutted
orbs
precarious on the porches child
heaving
and sugar vomited doorsteps
strewning the mellow
darkness
young
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 3:48 PM UTC
if kisses are green and bodies verdantly exact in sameness
let my hands be two birds glorifying the waters in the slopes
of fingers,
if song is but undeath and the rise and fall the unalphabeted siren
of the morning,
such loose wind swaying over her silently as loincloths
over blackred roses, easily it breaks like a finger of a shadow
whirling gently through opened windows in candid moonlight
but if surely does your going signal the dawn but no birds
wreathing the trees and no gardens inherit garlands,
what shall then be two birds over waters but a single stride
of sorrow and whose temporal flights disdain centrifugal faces
of waiting; measured, coveted, photographed, love everywhere fading
where silence maims sound and music topples over the moon
the stars the sleepless nights and the stellified dust of the world
that must be opened again
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
in god played undeath skips wildly disintegrating
tulips
sighing from the curtain of stars
hung loose
and laughing indescribably
immortal, f
o
r
tuitous of immobile light: a coma
from within belches the overlong trench of mucous silky
a
n d festering. in my mortal stillness
clasp the cold birds of winter, wings magistrating the currents
of first frost and
L
i
E
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 1:40 PM UTC
iAmraptured. at the unyielding tumult of your smooth venom
in the coughing elated cream of moon *****
a nothing perspiring in thee. a brash unday of staggering
sonorous starlight.
.
l two in between the vast smiling trench of your
thighs,by the unpermanent palms,a gallon of marching cylindric
pink. lavish incredibly dull spent muscular purring
vibrations. the first twitching violence of clean stroked chords a
n
d
plunge stupid majesty. the whole half of me and play in my immutable waves
the hard soft sharp nightmare of your glad steamy pain. you are pages
of verbs
you are sometimes. you are you. youa r e a giggl in gfloc k o ffast
pumping hips
,
an almost never always split and crooning
by the chariot of my hammer soft blows of lips lips lips lipso hotly
(pressing a nerve crackling electric nape
neon undeath blaring flesh ) i'll climb inside you
're damp
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
you can’t gnaw from the outside in,
when the world is quaint
and you’re freezing in sin
and darkness falls
from the east suffocating the west
and the end calls
from the deepest wilderness
like a lonely wolf
the debris of truest paradoxes
the kiss of undeath
i follow my mind on the steepest paths
through otherworldly traps and boxes
and we sink into the comfort of our thoughts
because the world as we know truly is not
let your voice rise up
let it echo the blackness
let it scream of
silence
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 8:49 PM UTC
To Hell their souls desperately charge, frothing about the shackles of undeath
Torn from corporeal existence, yet unable to
Transgress the mortal plane
Torturous paradox!
Torment the fallen of Carthage's vestigal might no more
Traducer of the human condition
Tragedy is loosed at thy whim
Try not the patience of demi-gods of wrath and bloodshed.
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 1:06 AM UTC
On Hallow’s Eve I bent my knee
Asked her to be my bride
I hoped her heart beat just for me
That love would be her guide
She said “It’s true I love you,
But there is something you must know
Of quirks and twists I have a few
Though you may learn them to your woe”
“I’m really not like other girls
Now get this in your head
Though I seem all bows and curls
I really am quite dead”
“You’ve asked me for my hand, and see
I can give it without harm”
And quick as counting one two three
She ripped it from her arm
“So now you know the truth” she sighed
“As grim as can be said
Why none would want a girl who died
Let alone one who’s undead”
She was bewitching in the full moon’s light
Standing there hand in hand
I was filled with love and not with fright
And knew I must take a stand
I cried “Our marriage plan we can fulfill
I believe in body positivity
Whether alive or dead it’s a body still
Regardless of morbidity”
We made our plans all through the night
Our thoughts like blood did flow
By dawn we knew it would be alright
I just must learn to sew
I held her close with all my might
Vowed to leave her nevermore
She asked ‘Please dear, don’t squeeze so tight”
As her left eye hit the floor
We celebrate our love each Hallow’s Eve
With ghosts and ghouls and witches
I love her laugh which you may believe
As I keep her all in stitches
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:16 PM UTC
They live in my mind all the time and they don't know.
They dwell in my heart all the time and they don't know.
They are the cause for it all and they don't know.
They are the most precious of my things and they don't know.
They cause the sun to shine gray and they dont know.
They cause the dark to go away and they don't know.
They steal the breath from me and they don't know.
They cause the life in me and they don't know.
Being without them is a living death
An undeath.
And I'm scared I'm getting used
to the exsistence of this
I can feel me dying
And yet there is nothing amiss.
I feel normal and so I must truly be lost.
I feel alive when I know I am not.
I feel content when there is only loss.
I must be dead and my soul was the cost.
Apr 19, 2010
Apr 19, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
Hello, I miss you
Sometimes I tell strangers about you,
Sometimes you're still all I think about
And sometimes I wonder if all I have left is a really good story
The things you left in the past could have changed your life
The things that wouldn't last, still alive, just barely
A tempestuous undeath unto your frail memory
Just trying to make it through another day
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 5:48 PM UTC
Spring, that whose every year is its last
and whose death always is the promise of its birth:
you pink between,
you softly to part,
you to come of flowers lathered,
you are a mystery.A cute curving mystery,
of slightly undeath.
a curt cutting mystery,
of increasing unhealth.
you're whose *** the mound of wreaking,
the confluence of hips,
and the pourn of roses, gardens.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
( to which temple shall our in-betweenness kneel before
reft in ****** dark?
housed in parenthetical arms,
graver than a tomb's rhetoric—
washed in red of flowers, a swarm
of light arrives, waking the undeath
of stone.
from glib strife to downpour of
leaves — a morning unbound, unclose
the sojourn lay by the side of the
river, the single-minded cruise
to appassionata,
love.)
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC
You want War?
I’ll bring Hell
You wish death?
I’ll summon undeath
You demand obedience
I’ll lead anarchy
building walls?
I’ll knock them down
Hiding in darkness?
I’ll turn on the light
No matter what you do
No matter the threat
We will fight back
We will stand our ground
When we fall
You won’t be far behind
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
Stoic amid the tranquil tides, the temperate zephyrs
But a fluttering spark, travelling through the aeons
Witness to the wonders of time, yet ever fleeting
The bearer of that which outlasts this eternal folly
However, for a certainty, even this steadfast paragon
Does not foresee what the clock hands have in store
And the fallen mouth their soft, intelligible rhymes
Thus the air carries this ephemeral elegy of euphony
But as the voices dance within those hallowed halls
Sound brilliantly in harmony, a display of fervour
The mosaic of echoes dismantled by fate's clutches
Changes imminently, unavoidably, flawlessly
Alas, the decadent phantoms of the days long gone
In their irrefutable devotion to their fallacious lord
Seek naught but to extinguish the astral avatar
Embodied within the solitary luminaire, ever vigilant
Does the final line of defence lay dormant even now
As the messenger of the deep beyond revivifies
The illusion dispelled, disenchanted, disengaged
Situation growing direr, the peacekeeper absent
Sealed within a decrepit maze, the mirrored world
Drawing parallels between the unimaginable still
Lost its own essence in the steadily rising entropy
For none are safe; the fabric of reality is wounded
Tendrils escape from the fissure, liberated at last
Come what may, the very barriers between realms
Once separating life and death, light and darkness,
Brought down in a prismatic flash of scintillation
And as that which tore this rift open runs rampant
The spectres of the past in their perpetual undeath
Whisper but a single innocent inquiry of naiveté
"May we reclaim our corporeal selves once more?"
An epiphany unlike most defeats wishful thinking
The clairvoyant beholder, the ever-present observer
Held their answer for as long as the currents of time
Although hope succumbs last, what is after hope?
Thus, in the demoralising wake of the bitter truth
Let the untamed flames of fury loose, such tragedy
Doom befalls the woeful, weary and withered worlds
For the inconspicuous spark has ceased its motion
The end justifies the means in the mind of madness
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC