The writings of Oddpoet

Sirens sing the song of death
While rental cops lay cones down
Restrict­ing traf­fic



They have come for me.



I am the Poet
The truth
My words are carved in the flesh of inno­cence
Scrawled in cheap uri­nals
Chis­eled in the faded gray paint of shit holes
Of lonely tomor­rows
I dry the tears of the hope­less
Scream with the home­less
I sing truth that hum­bles Gods
I am Prometheus, Sisy­phus



I cut the throat of pompous laugh­ter
And kill its first born
I eat the soul of dread­ful nor­malcy
I walk the edge and con­versed with mad­men
My words rever­ber­ate in trash strewed alleys
My tread echoed in the halls of jails and men­tal insti­tu­tions
Shared secrets with bro­ken soul­less junkies



I am truths
That freeze men’s souls
And the lies they swear by
The burn­ing blade cut­ting teth­ered souls
Illu­mi­nat­ing light­en­ing



I am the Devi­ate fondling sacred sex­u­al­ity
The ser­ial killer cov­ered in Blood
Suck­ing life from vic­tims
With last breath curs­ing God
Whim­per­ing
“Why me?”



I am the throne­less king
The voice­less trou­ba­dour
The song no one will sing
I am the invis­i­ble chill
That fon­dles your spine
I am dis­com­fort
The night­mare
The book no one will read
I am words no want wants to hear
I am …

Tags: Flawed, mental illness, Poet, self-knowledge, universal truths

This entry was posted on Monday, February 15th, 2010 at 12:37 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.