The Sound of Burning

The Sound of Burning

A Poem by R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

I feel really unwell these days, but I figure I should write so I don't lose my edge too much at least.


My shadow told me the white chalk was his downfall

When the hell’s shade shined on our skin

The hieroglyphic monolith marks of prolific obsidian martyrs argonauts

The revenant of their screams’ pitter-patter like the rein of terror clouding heaven

As I storm through the madness of my mental defences

A maelstrom of osteoporosis coursing through the poltergeist of disciples of prison bars

Star-crossed phosphorus the cartilage devil to bargain with


My voice told me the slipknot softened the blows of psychosis, but humanity was his downfall

When people spoke for our empty mouths with their clumsy tongues thumping enunciated

The virus of their names spread like a cancer dancing across crucified

The blackboard scratching the vinyl of their asylum

As I transform my metamorphosis, the flutter of fallen leaves spiralling defiled

Bastion of asterisks, the silence annihilates the word of God

A word that was never spoken by man, to begin with


My body told me, embroidered into a cage, that if I were to fly

When the wings were only mangled fingers ripped from a time when I was whole

The levitating homeostasis chopped and butchered insidious

The world wanders on a plane of oblivion

As the music plays there is nothing but a chill in every beat drumming consumption

I haven’t got the strength to put up a fight, but I'm taking you down

The vanquished hippocampus, its relinquished photosynthesis is a red sun emblem


My suffering told me to kill, so I strangled my pain until it faded away and left me alone in this world

When each shattered tooth is just a new reason to smile, a souvenir from a failed beat down

The memento of sentience reminds me of what it was like to be sane

The profanity of a hatred that everyone shared like a family I was never a part of

As I straddle on the tightrope between life and death’s throat, caught in the stomach of the Beast

Am I really just some monster practicing pacifism?

A target of some wildhunting homunculus? I was human too, before they killed me


My soul told me to cut the heart from my hollow frame and offer it as a love letter

When respiratory metamorphosis set in I became a scarecrow Wickerman going up in flames

The melody is rhythmic Olympus at the peak of a climbing leviathan, a stairway to sound

The sound of burning hurricanes as the polymerization of my body solidified silence

My shadow told me the light would go dark in the dusk of this rusted junkyard of broken bones

My voice taught me the meaninglessness of words is as loud as a scream

Sometimes I am more than a shadow


More than a voice

I am the sound of the burning remains of this world standing on ashen legs

I am the whispering lips of flames licking the incubus of sky with the very being, the creature of past men

I am more than a body burning to charred, reincarnated the cremated salvation of aether hatred

My suffering is every dead man vengeful for a dying race called man, unremembered

I am the embodiment of clockwork chaos oxidized philosophers of the apocalypse inaugurated

My hands are the cobwebs of megalomaniac aphrodisiac, the leader of the pack is a lone wolf


But I’m not a beast

I am the last goodbye of a dead friend that never left you in a flurry of dark corridors alone

I am the final note in an overture that reverberates in the Holocaust of verses

I am the messenger of death’s Rorschach atrocity’s apocryphal undocumented indoctrination

I am the tomorrow that will never come

And the yesteryear of massacres among daffodils wilderness abyssal omniscience ambitious

I am the setting sun, leaving you in the darkness, cold, alone, forgotten


The husk of the chrysalis of those who were never wrong, righteous, left by the butterfly

I leave you without a heart, without a friend, without the medication to heal

As your painted masquerade peels, and the façade is no longer real

The wounds may seal, but you and I will never feel

The braille rain decaying on our skin

I remember when the sun kept our coldblooded bodies warm in the desert of our sins

Trying to rebuild the world when all we did was rip the pages of history from the spine, serpentine

The dry leaves crackling like a fire

The air musty with the smell of aging life withering away

Quick to light like a match

The noise of this sanctuary obscene as singing to the sound of silence

Where the remains of the summer rasp out their final breaths

The lungs coughing up corpses under the Autumn breeze

I feel cold inside even though I'm burning

Even though the light of my flaming fingers singed by syllables

Scalded by memories, went out years ago

Paper-thin pandemonium, fanning the flames, the fire, the sound of burning existence disappearing into the Neatherealm
The library of humanity's gifts blitzed by infernos tearing through the memory that we even existed
But who needs memory, when we're immortalized?

Who needs fire, when we have the brightest lights of the city dowsed in orange leaves?

Who needs the ashes of men like me, if our bodies don't bleed for deities fading from daydreams, unravelling by a grim reaper's seamstress, hanging by a thread, possessed by a promise, given not wanted, stitched back together again through Autumn, the weather of
words scribbled in lead now discarded


© 2019 R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

Author's Note

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
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.

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register


you are certainly creative my friend,and on the heels of halloween

Posted 4 Days Ago

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
just WOW!! this one is a book by itself.


Posted 1 Week Ago

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

6 Days Ago

I'm glad you like it so much! I'll try to make more like this in the future.
My twice completed today but this was much easier to read than the rest of yours but as always stunning and so much heartfelt. This has so many things in it but a particular thing that caught me is you questioned if you're a monster practicing pacifism. You know Mahatma Gandhi who alone a common man of my motherland believed in pacifism and got the freedom 73 years ago and Einstein the genius of Physics and Mathematics world said that one day people will start to believe that he was a god! Because he was an unusual human who fought without blood sheds and fought for right and truth. If one day he will be a god for human race how come you'll be a monster.
Next to this don't call yourself a monster, you're not! Peep into that bright side of your heart and you'll always find how beautiful person you are. There's always a reason why a person can feel proud of themselves. If you give a toffee to a little kid you'll feel the pride because of their smile, or you can feed a stray dog, talk to an old grandpa who lives alone nearby and helping others who suffer, force yourself to feel it, you'll definitely be very proud of yourself.
Excellent poem, I think and it's going to my Favorite Reading list.
Good Luck!

Posted 1 Week Ago

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Week Ago

Gandhi really was a hero wasn't he? Advocating for peace through love and emotion, he was what every.. read more
Aurora (MC)

1 Week Ago

Did you read his books? You know he was the real human, he alone changed the views of world, think i.. read more
R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Week Ago

I definitely have something to learn from them then. It's good to have strong sense of pride for you.. read more

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


3 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on October 12, 2019
Last Updated on October 16, 2019
Tags: the, sound, of, burning


R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

Burlington, Halton, Canada

For those who wonder why I have a silly username, I've been using this name because I find it funny. Potatoes are never really that sinister. The e on the end of potato is because I'm a potato with to.. more..


Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..