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Pea Oct 2015
my entrail doesn't speak
she's the quietest in my body
some say i'm just too shy
some didn't know what was just happening

my stomach sharp and confused
when i ******* own i taste sour
some say i'm just a little bit ill
some doesn't know what has been happening

when i'm weak i can buy junk food all i want
i can walk in the streets and face the boys in the stalls
still, my entrail doesn't speak
she's the quietest in my body

so forget the sweat, forget the spit
i'm saving my eyes for the street
i'm harming my earth for my heart
i feel the most calm when i drive fast

my eyes become a black hole as i speed
i swallow traffic accidents like religious scientist
across my window a drive thru fast-food restaurant
my entrail doesn't speak

she's the quietest in my body
my eyes become a black hole as i speed
to a secret cult i must be guided
i swallow traffic accidents like religious scientist
I

I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels,
Forged in man's minerals, the brassy orator
Laying my ghost in metal,
The scales of this twin world tread on the double,
My half ghost in armour hold hard in death's corridor,
To my man-iron sidle.

Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels,
Bright as her spinning-wheels, the colic season
Worked on a world of petals;
She threads off the sap and needles, blood and bubble
Casts to the pine roots, raising man like a mountain
Out of the naked entrail.

Beginning with doom in the ghost, and the springing marvels,
Image of images, my metal phantom
Forcing forth through the harebell,
My man of leaves and the bronze root, mortal, unmortal,
I, in my fusion of rose and male motion,
Create this twin miracle.

This is the fortune of manhood: the natural peril,
A steeplejack tower, bonerailed and masterless,
No death more natural;
Thus the shadowless man or ox, and the pictured devil,
In seizure of silence commit the dead nuisance.
The natural parallel.

My images stalk the trees and the slant sap's tunnel,
No tread more perilous, the green steps and spire
Mount on man's footfall,
I with the wooden insect in the tree of nettles,
In the glass bed of grapes with snail and flower,
Hearing the weather fall.

Intricate manhood of ending, the invalid rivals,
Voyaging clockwise off the symboled harbour,
Finding the water final,
On the consumptives' terrace taking their two farewells,
Sail on the level, the departing adventure,
To the sea-blown arrival.

II

They climb the country pinnacle,
Twelve winds encounter by the white host at pasture,
Corner the mounted meadows in the hill corral;
They see the squirrel stumble,
The haring snail go giddily round the flower,
A quarrel of weathers and trees in the windy spiral.

As they dive, the dust settles,
The cadaverous gravels, falls thick and steadily,
The highroad of water where the seabear and mackerel
Turn the long sea arterial
Turning a petrol face blind to the enemy
Turning the riderless dead by the channel wall.

(Death instrumental,
Splitting the long eye open, and the spiral turnkey,
Your corkscrew grave centred in navel and ******,
The neck of the nostril,
Under the mask and the ether, they making ******
The tray of knives, the antiseptic funeral;

Bring out the black patrol,
Your monstrous officers and the decaying army,
The sexton sentinel, garrisoned under thistles,
A ****-on-a-dunghill
Crowing to Lazarus the morning is vanity,
Dust be your saviour under the conjured soil.)

As they drown, the chime travels,
Sweetly the diver's bell in the steeple of spindrift
Rings out the Dead Sea scale;
And, clapped in water till the triton dangles,
Strung by the flaxen whale-****, from the hangman's raft,
Hear they the salt glass breakers and the tongues of burial.

(Turn the sea-spindle lateral,
The grooved land rotating, that the stylus of lightning
Dazzle this face of voices on the moon-turned table,
Let the wax disk babble
Shames and the damp dishonours, the relic scraping.
These are your years' recorders. The circular world stands still.)

III

They suffer the undead water where the turtle nibbles,
Come unto sea-stuck towers, at the fibre scaling,
The flight of the carnal skull
And the cell-stepped thimble;
Suffer, my topsy-turvies, that a double angel
Sprout from the stony lockers like a tree on Aran.

Be by your one ghost pierced, his pointed ferrule,
Brass and the bodiless image, on a stick of folly
Star-set at Jacob's angle,
Smoke hill and hophead's valley,
And the five-fathomed Hamlet on his father's coral
Thrusting the tom-thumb vision up the iron mile.

Suffer the slash of vision by the fin-green stubble,
Be by the ships' sea broken at the manstring anchored
The stoved bones' voyage downward
In the shipwreck of muscle;
Give over, lovers, locking, and the seawax struggle,
Love like a mist or fire through the bed of eels.

And in the pincers of the boiling circle,
The sea and instrument, nicked in the locks of time,
My great blood's iron single
In the pouring town,
I, in a wind on fire, from green Adam's cradle,
No man more magical, clawed out the crocodile.

Man was the scales, the death birds on enamel,
Tail, Nile, and snout, a saddler of the rushes,
Time in the hourless houses
Shaking the sea-hatched skull,
And, as for oils and ointments on the flying grail,
All-hollowed man wept for his white apparel.

Man was Cadaver's masker, the harnessing mantle,
Windily master of man was the rotten fathom,
My ghost in his metal neptune
Forged in man's mineral.
This was the god of beginning in the intricate seawhirl,
And my images roared and rose on heaven's hill.
Waverly  Dec 2011
Pyramid.
Waverly Dec 2011
Me and the homies
built
up
a foundation of beer bottles in the corner of the living
room
that slide
down
when we play our music.

It's a pyramid
of transparent brown
******* bodies.

We stick our tongues into mouths
that will never fully be
ours,
and throw each new brick in the corner
with a clink,
*******
our
pants
and waking
up
in
entrail pools
of their digested innards the next morning.

A brown shimmer
like flashlights on the lake
bounces off them
bumping against our hips
and
mesmerizes
our upper thighs
and
inner groins.
Onoma Feb 2015
Gilded Light's iron visage--wormhole rider...
cosmic switch breaker.
Restoring Lacyrma Christi in fell swoop...
decorated to Seventh Sun, heart of Heart's
medallion.
Distilled justice, pure in action to all its
vitals...sword sharpened by thin air.
Resounding honorary--there, anywhere--
when dark tips the balance...off with what
head before eye may blink.
A wrathful entry, a peaceful exit...there is
no Art of War but through him.
Archangel Michael, giver and taker of fear...
stores Satan's eyes in his own...to
perpetually unnerve him.
Dragonslayer to the degree dragons appear
as lush foliage all the way to Heaven,
cut down...plummeting to an entrail
darkening with sleep.
Kagey Sage  Jun 2014
Buoy Brains
Kagey Sage Jun 2014
Desensitized by the sands of time
I'm abhorred you're a cultural cog
Bobbing on the surface
you find eating gulls disgusting
but don't bat an eye at nauseous oil slicks

I wish I could set it all ablaze
so we'd pick our destinies more carefully
Or more care freely

You see me as a motley mesh
Flesh covered by cloths from mismatched fads
Yet, you're a pretentious simian that's forgot our past
Just a gussied up grazer, disavowing discomfort
scoffing at any endeavor that isn't grass flavored

The chimers on the lawn are all robed outcasts
bellowing to the fodder eating fodder
the posh set the stalks to be mowed over
But for the justice of all the inside out bulls
leaving their wallets on the ground
the entrail fashion never catches on
the pup lies belly upward
to the sky

on busy road life is hard
easy to die.

no mourning ****** entrail
washed by rain

leaves no mark echoed trail
of faintest pain.

if i had stopped someday
touched it thin

lived it then in someway
on my skin.
Robin MacCuish  Sep 2015
Mad
Robin MacCuish Sep 2015
Mad
Ever been Mad?
And nothing  
                        Helps.
You write and scribble, listen to the
         Music
Through headphones
     Bleeding Sound
Like thoughts
                  All of everything, does not seem
To quite
              Fit
Cause your Mad, Crazed and
Glazed like a donut wanton
Temptation to be eaten
With your soft wet
                                 Lips.
Something you just get out of your head.
    Canines ******* red jelly, ripping entrail by sugary
Entrail. Yet you are still Mad
                              Furious
As hounds of Baskerville, mysterious misery
You are humanity.
Eriko  Apr 2016
Sunset Splendor
Eriko Apr 2016
Flickering licking flames
Oozing warmth, radiating splendor
I couldn't feel the splinter in my heart
Numbness spreading silver spiderwebs
Through my toes,
The coldness blinding
So all I can see
Is the icy blue sky
Mirroring glass into
The greater expanse,
Yet the moment frost
Settles on my breath
The sun crackles,
Streaking fiery red madness
Marvelous beauty
Like veins entrail words
Of the sweetest melodies
Even on those nights
It's hard to hear
L  Dec 2014
-
L Dec 2014
-
an entrail, caught
on the jagged edges of time
goodbye
the night before
the moon grew bold

I felt the darkness
move in from above
in ominous grey
opaque

it reached for me
half asleep, I
acquiesced

relinquished
pillowy clutch
splayed sheets
like legs

for his
chatter bones to chill
where my sallow
is tissue thin

his hail knuckles
affixed to wet tongue
drug me to the floor
raking my hollows
over and over

reeling terrors
on sepia filmstrip
some scenes repeating
some to-fro rewound forward
some hovered gory ending:

frigid tools cutting
to expose my insides
stirring entrail with bone
tugging ruddy strings
to see what sounds
they made as I
buckled; choked
on my leaks

I closed my eyes
tried to escape body
but he projected on
my shuttered
darting

knotting esophagus
around the backbone
fingerpainting my end
on worn flesh walls
in char-red spectrum
choreographed in
perfect harmony
with rote fear
chanting

this is how
you die -

alone


I felt it all
happening.

dangling my happy
memoirs with nooses
ungraceful reanimating
decayed draggy dancing
Xs where bright eyes
were once upon
and wide

open

every ache and
smothered secret
chirped by dark faeries
too quick to swat

but when all
the pushed down
were given mallets
they crescendoed
into discordant jarring
and in its peak came
a piercing shriek:

so loud -

all stilled
to look around

I couldn’t tell
if the voice
was him
or me

but after terror climaxed
the hear ripped and
grip released

I allowed myself
to loosen, breathe
headthrob slowly
melded into felt
beats:

limbs and tips
all pulsing
relief

and I
could see
no one was there

but me.

wielding expertly
book in my own hand
thick with tested maps

to exquisitely torture
every tenuous strand
in my fragility

— The End —