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.



(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


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.

My Review

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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:

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:
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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2 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on September 15, 2020
Last Updated on October 19, 2020
Tags: awake, metal, mantra


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

Burlington, Halton, Canada

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..