God's Floorboards

One of the older poems that I think aged well. Enjoy!!

Sun-fired appetizer

Killing ability

Injected depression

Dejected erection

Psychotropic cyclops

Obelisk apocalypse

Eclectic epicentre eccentric dementor Praying for the mother smothered clitoris fidgeting limitless mayhem flooded saviour created riveted

Mount Everest famous in the train-wreck of civilization

Digitized compromise prosperity monopolized idolized revitalize disciple poltergeist residue priorities

Muffling suffering buffalo

Uncomfortable country-road

Guillotine insanity in the backseat of humanity

Such a fabricated dream, tragedy between the gears of the machine

Mirror my morose metrosexual ghosts

I am nothing but a host without remorse

Undead appendages in the uniformed warrior of a capricious unicorn

Malicious, dead when born, sleep weeping in the weakness of the morn, word porn

All alone, I write my own poems

I write, I don’t, speak

A maelstrom of pale skin

Just because you can lift mountains doesn’t mean you can overcome pain

Mental paste, a basket case

Prioritizing the horizon

It’s not a problem to deal with problems

Everyone can be powerful, everyone can be strong; but not for long

Outrageous reincarnation

Draconic abomination

Dragonfly parasite

Reckless abandon

Reckoning beaconing off the balcony alphabet

Primitive syndicate

Synthesis initiative

Enigmatic collateral damage dabble in the matter of a tragedy

His apocalypse

Epitome of victory

Prometheus obedient

Cannibalistic mysticism

Hatred lacerations in cold stasis

A divided alibi of zombified silence

Cyanide leviathan

Lycanthropic dandelions

A beautiful spoonful

Frilly daffodils, painted layers of wafered syllables, lily’s illuminated fulfillment in the stillness of life, picture like, but alway painting the next nations

Picturesque generous

A fusion of pseudo musicals

Embrace embroidered embittered embezzled embryo

Bulimic phoenix

Macabre phenomena

Despair’s narrative

 domestication

dominatrix

Masquerade apathy, sanctuary, blasphemy

Hypothesis apocalypse

Blitzing whittling epiphany

Scars are my swords under the floorboards

Blood my ointment luxury

Bone my structured suffering

Skin my severed sinner

Death left breathless, the only winner

As the world turns to cinders, and the body burns oblivion

Cut umbilical cord of the void, and destroy destiny, pestilence in every vestigial

Evidence wrestling in romantic chances a vessel abyssal centennial in a confessional

Seraphical sociopathic thrall, universe planted preying mantis anti-miracle

Spherical spiritual abomination, contemplating advantageous eradication

The foundation of structured bones ruptures, cracking hollow morn

The skin delivers it’s silk slit scissors stitched bridges over the flesh rivers and withers away

The blood floods the entrance to heaven, and drowns the clouds down disembowelled below ground

Sheath conceit my mishappen weapon and step into the mass of the second ending, will light or darkness spite me there?

Or will I fair differently?

Aware as I wear away and my hopes die with me

Kept at bay the blade still cuts, as our dreams rust in blood, and the clustered crust in the clutches crunches to rubble crushing the nothingness into a bottomless pit

We sit well in its stomach, rumbling hornets, trapped in these corridors, the past has been cornered like a beast, rending compendiums between the remorseless and the four horsemen forworn for a warlord with a world on fire, chaos in every crevices, mayhem sailing the black flag of Salem gradient, unafraid of order

Scars on the world under God’s floorboards

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Hayley]

This feels like a Bob Dylan song, or maybe something from the Beatles' psychedelic era (1966 - 68). This is all to say, your poem spun my mind around and turned it inside out & backwards. My favorite lines: "cyanide leviathan," "lycanthropic dandelions," and "cannibalistic mysticism." I don't know what any of that means, but I'd love some answers (if there are any!)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Those songs were masterpieces, I'm happy to have my work be compared to the classics. I intended to add a bit of mania into the poem, thank you for coming along for the ride!

I think the best way to describe this poem is that it is 99% imagery based. I rely on the sounds of the rhymes, and the images that come with it to write a story, rather than conventional story telling. If there's any story telling at all in this poem, it's that madness reigns supreme underneath the heavens, and that there is discord here, and strange things occurring in the world, that Nirvana may not truly comprehend. But overall, the poem is not so much a story as it is a description.

Thank you for reading, I'm always happy to share. I'll check out your work too!