Awake/Dream

Awake/Dream

A Poem by R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
"

Two decent poems, and some of the leftover scraps put together into a little something at the end.

"

Awake






(In the skies there are)


(Syncopated Himalayans maelstrom halos with Elysium's phoenix Prometheus)


(And down below)


Metal meadows, ghettos of jagged alleyways


Like shattered beer bottles


And pavement murals of archaic heroes


Resins residue of stilettos arpeggios


Fabricated amalgamated shadowlands


Spanning botanical hourglasses


In hallucinogenic heaven’s that clementine divines


Cupid crucifix lucid as Jupiter pupils


The penance of serenities endless crescendo


Poltergeist maestro of isolation


Rough drafts of human beings


You don’t get to kill your brothers,


And then offer them a hand


Drowning dunes in time’s lilac sand


Dialects of violet irises photosynthesizing


Metallic alabaster to cover up the wounds


Of the story you’ve written on my back


My story alone, the static noise


You are static, you are my home


In the italics of malice crowning balconies


An empty contemporary of thrones


Complementary emissaries to roam


Clovers of rosaries, oceans of metempsychosis


Floating motionless crows


And hangmen telephone poles


Makeshift oasis wraiths conversation of wastelands gander


Dragging polychromatic sabotage pornography


Spawning kaleidoscopic brothels of fallen apostles


Gospels of death throes in psychosis born cornucopia


Stormy orchestras of tundra sunset by thunderclouds


Unravelling down as man is chained and bound


Enshrouded malachite pallasites Valhalla’s dice


Gambling intangible strangleholds of bangles


And my mad world bursts forth like a memory from the null


From the flesh encrusted clusters of the rusty nothingness


Covering the skull


That no one ever wanted, as the mantra, lulls


In the harbour, tarnished armour martyrs in a hole


Or some ditch between the crossroads


Phosphorescent neverlands of gothic Auschwitz Rorschach catastrophe 


Screaming bulimic frequencies


Freedom of stagnant double-helixes in the mosh pits


While the world continued on


Like the vineyard


Of a forbidden fruit I never want to taste


Lest this insanity lay to waste


In the tide


I am


A wake












Dream



I too, hide from avarice of madness


Hatching from the homeless tomes of the locust


Sprawling spirals on the diabolical holocaust of the wind


Cinders of oblivions splinter to the schisms of metamorphosizing rhythm


Coursing abortions underneath the basin of my skin


Crawling halogens of vengeance


Devastating devils of emulation penetrating beneath


My hollow, hollow, polymerization


Frolicking in the bathroom stall called hallelujah


I too, awaken from a deep sleep in the depths of hell


Bronze yells from heaven’s bells


Melody enveloping delicate flowers devoured by Valkyries


The sores of untreated wounds in my hollow heart


Stitching obituary pages in the stagnation


The library of goddamned imaginings of cadaverous Vaticans


Inside the trapdoor of my ribcage


A hummingbird of silence flutters


Nestled (embers) between slithering bones


Slandering anarchy disembarking from the parchment


The pages gale sable maestroms


Drifting shapeshifting abyss of mistletoe Mephisto glistening


Ghosts spoken to by the hands of God speak in sign language


Rejecting all I am


Absolving the sins committed by an unfit heaven


I too, wish the world was better


I too, am a leatherbound alcove of papercuts


Smoldering holy pandemonium


Shining parasites of daylight bleeding Elysium


Through the shutter of a lonely fulcrum


Kneeling at the table on its last legs


Holding up the lights in the night sky like a streetlamp


Praying doesn’t bring action


Action doesn’t bring God


I too, am feeble


I too, am more lucid than dream


I too, wish to awaken, from the slumber of this life


The bumblebees and green leaves on a guillotine breeze


Do not care for the noise of my radio skull


I too, lose my head in the neck of the woods


To the tools of the shed


I am no sharper than the common spade


Digging into the skin is the graffiti of a faraway city


Is the pull of the clockwork Molotov sky facing me


With its skyscraper hands grasping astronauts


(Blasphemous Rorschach's cast catalysts on a stratosphere of madness)


I too, am a cog in the machine


I too


Am someone’s


Broken dream






Nightmare's Radio Wave




The whine between my ears


They are the words I must erase


Smile in the mirror


Wearing someone else's face


Monsters in the closet


Skeletons with iron lungs


Stomach all these butterflies


Early riser in the dung


From the hole


Dig myself to heaven


Or the south pole


Another lost soul in the road rage of a seance


The void of the rageless


The voices are praying


The whispers are lithium


The screams are bipedal


We live in a world born from evil


Even a smile is lethal


Asylums of scalpels


Run with scissors in the downpour


Cut yourself on a mouthful


Stay true to the doubtful


Take a cruise with the shellfish


Lie on the seafloor


Open the trapdoor


Look into rapture


Find your happy ever after


Black dahlia and a pastor


Swimming through the laughter


Like another form of baptism


Live in a box just a captive


Death is another kind of practice


The whine between my ears


Is just the bee-sting of the axeman


The moon a buried body in the night


Waning and waxing


Just the shadow we're cast from


Not awake, or a dream anymore.


Simply the nightmare of hope keeps me up at night


When I'm so close to despair


Wake to the afternoon glare, dazed


In latex air


Like a morningstars' flare


A flower in my hair


Sleeping on a lemongrass chair


Reaping to everlast the day


Keep my demons at bay


Drowning on radiowaves


© 2020 R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)


Author's Note

R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)
For the first poem: A nightmare sort of poem, where madness is reality for but a moment. This is horror. A word of warning before reading. Sometimes you need to write something dark to let the light in.




For the second poem: Something else entirely, melancholy, but not despairingly so.


Finally, the last poem: Scraps of different pieces that didn't fit, put together like a ramshackle house.

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

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Reviews

top notch word weaving - a stroll on the darker side of things. simultaneously disturbing and satisfying as it scratches an itch that we all have. too many memorable lines to mention. i always like your artwork as well. you sure know how to pack a poetic power punch ... :)

Sleeping on a lemongrass chair

Reaping to everlast the day

Keep my demons at bay

Drowning on radiowaves

Posted 4 Weeks Ago


R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

4 Weeks Ago

Glad you enjoyed the poetry my friend!
This was rather overwhelming overall, so I'm going to focus on what stood out to me. I found the Mephisto part interesting because there is a character named Mephisto in the game I play:
https://games.mxdwn.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/08/6145.jpg

Still, this got me curious, so I Googled Mephisto, and the first thing that came up was a shoe company. I'm very tempted by these ones: https://www.mephisto.com/us/westside-2006200.html
but the shoes I have right now are still fine, and I learned my lesson not to order shoes online years ago when I was working outdoors and the shoes I ordered were a lot flimsier than they looked on the internet and gave me blisters to boot. Honestly, all shoes (except sandals) give me blisters anyway until I break them in, but some are worse than others, and there's really no way to tell how bad they will be until I try them on.

Now I'd like to rant about how the shoe stores closed for COVID. My husband was an essential worker at the time (he quit and started doing classes on the GI Bill because his coworkers weren't wearing masks even after they were mandated by law to do so) and his shoes wore out during that time. He's about as picky about shoes as I am, though in different ways, so we stepped into a Wal-Mart, didn't find any shoes that suited him, and walked right back out. I'm rather upset that Wal-Mart was allowed to continue selling shoes, clothes, toys, and all sorts of non-essential products when all the small businesses that sold those same products had to close down. Wal-Mart should have been required to put caution tape around all the non-essential sections of their store, but instead they wound up profiting big time because they were the only game in town still selling those items. Anyway, this sort of injustice makes me wish I'd gone into law, but there are only so many battles I can fight.

Posted 1 Month Ago


R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

1 Month Ago

Mephisto - a devil in medieval legend and later literary and operatic works, to whom Faust, or Faust.. read more

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Added on September 15, 2020
Last Updated on October 19, 2020
Tags: awake, metal, mantra

Author

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

Burlington, Halton, Canada



About
Born in 1997, I enjoy writing poetry and short stories. I often hike, bike, play tennis in the summer. In the winter, I snowboard. Spoken word poet, several time finalist for local poetry slams, an.. more..

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