Selected Short Poems pt. 2

This is a smaller collection of writings in a similar fashion to the first collection. They are mostly older poems. This is a mixed bag as some are more malevolent, yet others seem to be a bit more forelorn. Most are critical of a particular position or

I Ate the Sky

 

I have to stare at the ceiling to clear my mind.
Purge my thoughts,
Cleanse the afterthought.
Rinse the color of my discontent.
But the question still lingers,
a festering canker.
I want the answer,
but I'll never get it. 
I have 0 unread messages.
They won't tell me.
This frustration is leading me to madness.
This question, one of many, has more lies than truths.
There is no right or wrong, only that which I wish to perceive.
And what I want is never the answer, only they won't tell me.
They never tell me anything.
They lie with their smiles, but their eyes tell the truth.
Silence is the worst consent.

 

The Embrace

 

His touch was cold and compromising.
His grip was like a vice.
His gaze was long and mezmorizing
His bite was seductive and chastise.
His embrace was paradise.

 

Recluse

Look for me in the darkest places.
Manic and mayhem;
panic and pain,
a pillar of blood,
scent of the disdained.
Where women weep over dying children's faces.
Into the nightmare-
through foulest weather.
The dead man's dream:
a dead man's prayer
gone and lost,
dead forever.

 

Maniac at Large

A seldom uttered phrase.

Supression of the damnedest thought.

A loftily laden rumination.

Certitude of the darkest furrow

A hue of the discontent

Caress of the wily woman

A maniac at large.

 

A Simple Sandwich

 

A simple sandwich

cut into triangles

a forelorn experience

of a crusted memory

I knew not then

I know not now

how complex a sandwich could be

to each his own

a quite flavorful stance

layer upon layer

a hundred different condiments

a spice of life

a flare in every bite

sandwiches that bring much delight

 

To Those of You

To those of you,
who stand beside me,
but never stand behind me.
To those of you,
to whom I kneel
but am never knelt before
To those of you I idolize
you see right through me.
Its ironic that you're so transparent.
With some god-given gift of deliverence
our separation sets us free.
You want some talent?
Let it only be shaped.
Soon enough, my hand will guide you.
To where I can't yet say.
Between us there is not the innocent,
only the ignorant.
Whilst I beguille,
and you can only pray

 

Object of my Obsession

 

A scarlet broach
with fiendish glamor
"Your mine," I softly speak.
Across the ballroom, I saunter dearly
Your entourage I quickly dismiss
a hand that beckons you to dance
a cistine smile turned to glower
and still I'm met with ill reproach?
 

The land of dead children

A spill, my love,
A trickle of blood
weeping onto dry earth
a crimson tint - this hue of mud.
See how I validate my worth?
I'm alive for you my love.

 

Softly spoken, my dear
A solemn tread
whilst I whisper thoughts uncanny
of crimson dreams that I have bled
I'm alive for you my dear,
but I walk amongst the dead.

 

Evanescence, my friend
to a far off land-
A cornucopia of forgotten souls
childe bones here ground to sand.
and childe skulls here found in the shoals.
I was alive for you my friend.
I walked with you until the end.
Here in this the land of dead children.
 

Skin Deep

 

Deep thoughts aren't deep inside.
though call them as you wish,
An allegory to store away those dark secrets.
Even the little secrets.
All thoughts are shallow,
enough so to be carved with a rusty spoon.
laid upon a bed of nails
and hammered into a bloody message.
Your thoughts are evident in your character,
your language, your movement.
Your pain is only skin deep.
You aren't drowning.
Peel back the layers.
I can show you an ocean of discontent.

 

 Impending Doom

 

Pending, pending,
patent-pending soul descending,
Outlook high, and mind ascending.
Left to ponder scales impending.
Strapping chaos with deliberate intending.
Devised a normal sight pretending.
Through murky waters, a light transcending.

 

Iconoclastic platonic idealism

 

A voice of reason
Iconoclastic platonic idealism
The perfect treason
Serpentine logic and realism.

Welcome to my age.
Where perfect and ideal are far and between,
and the lines are drawn imaginary.
Materialism is only half the truth.
The other half lies in the concept of understanding.
Listen to my voice.

 

What is real is perfect.
Imaginary, imperfect. 
Here the lines are drawn,
and reality is merely catagorized by imaginary labels,
Any real ideal is unattainable.
There is no purpose, only cause and effect.
And perfection juxtaposes the simple function.

 

A Matter of Opinion

 

Sometimes life just seems like a matter of opinion.
You can hate it, love it, live it, lose it,
spend it, save it, adore it, abuse it.
We all value life differently,
and that is as certain as the differences in our opinions.
These values aren't equal.
We listen to our own with highest regard.
Can it be that all lives aren't equal?
Not as a whole, and certainly not to eachother?
Really, who's the better?
The giver or the taker?
Should we ascertain the right as a king of the mount?
As the god of my mind I'm standing firm. 
Right here. 
Right now.

 

Fulfilment

 

How exactly do you plan to live life to the fullest,
and why am I expected to respect your decisision?
You want to try everything once?
You'll try all the little things that make you feel good,
but living like that, you forget why you live in the first place.
What's worth doing anyway, and why is that drug so addictive.
Are you merely hiding the truth and shunning the light?
A pain we can't allieviate? Emaculate?
Some things aren't worth trying once.
Is it new?  Is it exciting?
Only because you've been fooled to think it is.
That addiction is a weakness that's easy to find solace in.
You can find your place there if nowhere else.
A pocket religion for you and your kind.
Roll it. Lick it. Smoke it.  Stick it.
Your addiction is killing me.
Why is that so rewarding?
Or maybe I just missed the point.

 

Animality

 

I look into the mirror.
I am primal.
Some men say that your eyes show intelligence.
The eye is just a tool of the body and of the mind.
A great mind doesn't need gentle or compassionate eyes.
The blindman can be wise beyond his visual comprehension,
but the fool is labeled blind,
and the blindman isn't so cunning as the hunter
with wild eye of the beast.
And so I gaze into my reflection,
and I see nothing but the primal eye.

 

The Mortician

 

He has no face,
this faceless mage,
and the caustic gloved hands of a mortician.
He reeks of formaldehyde,
embalming fluid,
and those gloves hide dirty fingers.
No stranger to death,
he drains the dead,
offering the shells that we parade.
What good is a lifeless corpse
if all that remains is sentimental value
and the glean of the mortician?

My Solemn Servitude

 

There is no question to ask.
The answers I seek are merely fleeting.
Even still, I remain plagued by the question,
Its a tumor, a cancer I refer to as indecision.
And I can't just idle away quietly forver.
When I die, I want it to be loud.
Not so I can be remembered.
Neither to be forgotten.
I want the most extreme pain and pleasure.
Of the likes that make life worth living.
If I had this answer I sought out for so long,
Would not the question be so fleeting?
Is all that's left is to slip into senesence?
Chained to the meaning of the question?
Bound to the meaning of the anwer?
Enslaved to the meaning of life?

 

Stand and Fly

 

I won't sit,
and I'll never waiver.
I have a message;
it can only be conveyed by my stand.
I'm firmly rooted,
I won't be swayed,
careened by the likes of simple men.
See my stand; my presence is unbound.
Is it not clear? 
I won't be unwound.
I stand against the righteous.
I stand for no man save myself.
I stand in mind,
immortal and alone.
The time is there, and its time to stand.
I stand for the sake of it,
perhaps like some right of passage.
Does standing makes me man?
If so flying makes me something else.
I will evolve,
I will transcend.
I have the will to stand,
but its just not enough.
I need the will to fly.

 

The Sales Pitch

We're selling souls a dime a dozen.
It's really quite a bargain, you see.
No down payment or interest rates.
There is a tax and hidden payment.
But no lies or gimmicks for consideration.
Though we do adjust the cost for inflation.
And added cost for installation.
Sign the dotted line today.
And take another's life away.
We'll just keep your old model.
You'll never be yourself again.
Such is the extent of the rubicon.
We'll even do three for the price of one.
If you hurry, if you're quick,
if you sign without delay.

 

Silent Pistol

 

A silent pistol with no remorse, no indication
You squeezed the trigger without hesitation, consideration
For the silent kill there is no reparation
My punctured heart, a breadth of massication
as sorrow seaps throughout the nation.
What brought us to this separation,
that lead to lies and accusation?
that silent glower with cool castigation.
A silent pistol with its silent bullets of desolation
The silent scorn of all creation.

 

White Rice King

 

The sovereign and his hundred billion,
they are all the same,
between them their is not a hellion
and all do praise thy name.
I am the white rice king,
At command my rice will sing.
They are all the same
I'm the one they couldn't tame
seated upon the white rice throne.
The only fool that's not a drone,
who couldn't stand to play the game
when all the white rice are the same.
Maybe they're the ones to blame.
They are all the same.

 

La vie en Transylvania

 

Where I am,
is where I aim.
There is no game,
just the insane.
The darkest plains,
hold my reigns,
tonight I strain.
grow distain
my thoughts wane.
none retain.
with aimless visions
of transparent pain.
Tonight I cast aside these chains.
Tonight I wear your blood as stains.

Here in Transylvania.

 

Blasphemy

 

The certain ways

the certain wiles

with perfect days-

coloured by perfect smiles.

Any deviance is blasphemy.

A sin!  A sin!

to widen your grin

to sing a different rhapsody

incontinence and ignorance

bring about deliverance

good and evil aren't perception

only hell's in that direction.

Repent!  Repent!

We are humble with the righteous law,

the greatest moral of them all

with logic to circle the irrational

The damned!  The damned!

To hell with all the blasphemers.

 

Dark Messiah

 

Death knocks upon your door.
Unbeknowst, you answer unquestioning.
Is it pain you seek? 
I can deliver.
I am the messenger of death
My hand quothe do thy bidding.
Sadistic pleasure of malevolent measure.
I can grant you paradise in eternal suffering.
All you need is ask.
So if you find yourself weary of society,
bowing to his majesty,
living dead in loyalty,
losing faith to morality,
drowning in anxiety
Come with me.
My touch is cold, but my breath is warm.
I will show you the true path to rightousness.
Am I not a merciful god?

 

(Untitled Musing)

 

Over the rainbow lie broken dreams,
and at the rainbows end there is no pot of gold,
just wishes gone unfulfilled.
Romantic symbol of happiness,
you're so transparent.

 

"Tear"

 

I will to tear you into f*****g pieces,
we'll count the number three.
mind, body, and soul.
The separation sets us free.
Blood of the damned,
pouring from the holes-
where I cruxify
and spit on your lie.

 

It sickens me to think that you've lived so long,
why wasn't it wrong,
I was the only one gone-didn't know what was going on.
I'll tear you apart, piece by f*****g piece.

 

Forgiveness? (pause) For what? Are you crying?!!

The dead don't weep!
The dead don't weep!
The dead don't weep- they don't dream when they sleep!

 

It sickens me to think that you've lived so long,
why wasn't it wrong,
I was the only one gone-didn't know what was going on.
I'll tear you the f**k apart.

 

And piece by f*****g piece,
you cease-to amaze me
you cease- to reprimand, to understand
that you cease to exist!

 

"Catatonic"

I, I, I, I, I, I...
-didn't want it to turn out like this.
-didn't want it to end up like this.
You left me dazed, catatonic
Now I've turned into someone else.
Now I really can't help myself.
I put my strength in you-
and you left me breathless, catatonic.

 

I'm frigid, frozen in place
staring off into space, I'm rigid
devoid of the life,
you left me senseless
a whirlwind of strife.
I needed a reason, and-
You left me dazed, catatonic.

I'm catatonic...
I'm catatonic!!!

 

I, I, I, I, I, I!!!
-didn't want it to turn out like this!
-didn't want it to end up like this!
You left me dazed, catatonic
Now I've turned into someone else.
Now I really can't help myself.
I put my strength in you-
and you left me breathless, catatonic.

I'm catatonic!!!-

 

I (sustained)! I -
(rapidly)didn't see it coming
wouldn't know it from it
can't forget it
I'm looking back
too nostalgic
I'm afaird
weak
paralyzed
You left me!
You left me catatonic!

Reviews

[JC Fox]

I simply loved your second selection of short poems, I liked the Untitled Musing and Catatonic the best