"venomed" poems
Ego death
Death of mind
Death of body
Death crawls gallantly
Gallantly crawls death
Seated in a wooden chair
Breathing in smell of candle wax
The sweet aroma trickles into my nasal
Gently
Like a sweet secret whisper
Memories strike
Fear of the night
Death of all light
Combustion of dendrites.
Death happens rapidly
A spider; well groomed and ready to feast
Pulls his venomed victim from the steady arm of life
Fangs drawn
Body of insect brawn
Of skeleton armor
Penetrating easily
Devour young Dermaptera
The victim is dying
Slowly and painfully
The spider finished his meal
BANG!
he looks up towards the light
A nervous giant approaches
with intuition to ****
The boot overcomes the life of an arachnid
Another life has come to a stop
Crushed armor lays silent on the floor
Bow to the human God
Animals growing to fear
The moth captures the fear inducing look
of human eyes
The most feared Tyrant
of the insect jungles
Grasses higher than skyscrapers
Giants roaming on their chosen paths
Crushing any live that stands in the way
The Ocean
Boats in mass amounts
Distorting the predator balance
Innocent shark
Pulled from its domain
by alien hands
Slicing off fins and cutting throats
Leaving you drowning in your own element
Cruel human torture
What lies beyond the dawn?
Karmatic destruction
for torture of nature?
Torture of men
Crushed by gravity
Ripped from earth
Blood drawn
Gods angry and willing
to provoke death on the wicked
Disturbances in the valley of life
Heartache in the valley of life
Thoughts of torture to loved ones be your punishment
Eternal sorrow and regret
That is what the wicked get
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 1:25 PM UTC
The girls had just come in from gathering fuel,
Laid the frozen cow pats in the box
Beside the stove,
Went in to wash for supper.
The old house creaked beneath a towering wind
Gray-full of promise that driving snow was on the way,
But though it shook, the shingles stayed;
The smoldering fire warmed and cheered
The children as they stamped their feet to chase the cold away,
Hands outstretched to catch the radiant heat.
A distant cloud of war in Europe loomed,
Sinister, though far, the children vaguely knew,
By catching whispered grown up conversations....
Though not yet reality for German-Russian Mennonites
Now Montana farmers on the eastern plains
To which they'd run to find a peaceful space
To settle far from persecution.
Before the supper washing and the setting of the plates,
Grandmother moved to catch the evening news,
Turned a dial to set the tubes aglow
And warm the wireless magic in the radio.
Crackling to life, a man's voice said, "Achtung!"
Early winter, 1938 on Montana's wind-blown plains,
The evening news presented Hitler's venomed speech
Declaring war and warnings and impending dooms.
Mesmerized, my German grandma stood,
Suddenly cold inside the warm kitchen,
Staring out the window toward the barn,
Tears running down her cheeks,
Her children gathered round.
"Mama! Mama! What is the matter?"
My mother begged to know,
tugged upon her mother's apron,
Wondered at the power of words
To make her mother cry.
"That man has terrible power!"
Was all my grandma said, trying to be calm,
Then turning back to ready table
Before the men came in for supper.
Seventy-five years later,
Sitting at the kitchen table on the farm,
My mother's voice trails off...
****** and her mother...
How many millions gone?
Powerful within the room,
The memory rests.
Outside, the same wind blows;
Only absent snow-gray clouds
Beneath the ice-blue skies.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 1:02 PM UTC
Like pearls,
glazed with feigned indifference.
Lessons learned, turned remedial -
the man I thought I was, wished to be
now
wanting to run, hide.
Emotions vexed, in disbelief
Flat irises, venomed lips, cold shouldered still.
*Was it all worth the guilt?
Our sin?*
Your eyes are still everything to me:
whether bright or hazed,
Through any color, nuance and shade
weathered expression or freshly made,
Your eyes are the pools I'm in,
the very world that you can't peer through
or see within.
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 5:46 AM UTC
He has the tendency
Of being an
Overly aggressive
*****
And she kisses ***
With venomed
Lips-
Of course there's
Trouble in paradise.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
He ventured forth upon a lofty quest
To seek a beauty told in legends tale
A maiden whom no man could e'er behest
Tho' many tried, but all were doomed to fail
Whilst resting weary on a low-slung ledge
Aside a pool, its surface calm and clear
His eyes were drawn down to the water's edge
And in reflection, spied that she was near
He found himself held captive in her stare
Her hissing voice, her clawing fingertips
How wild the snake-like tendrils of her hair
Her sharpened fangs revealed by venomed lips
Too late, he turned to find his love had flown
And e'er since then, his heart was turned to stone
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC