The writings of Oddpoet

Poetry that bleeds, screams and never sleeps

The cake lies musty and stale
The bal­loons dry rot­ted and cracked
Their col­ors faded
The air that would give them life
Has moved on

And Clint died

The clock nods
And says
“Just to remind ya dude“
Another year lays parcels
Into my pack

Oh the weight

But what of Love?
Cheap and tawdry
A bar stool whore
Eying advan­tage
Plun­der­ing
A Viking rap­ing with gut­tural screams
The Poet can sing of it
I had my fill of it

And Clint died

Mem­o­ries set the table of dreams
Prepar­ing a feast
Beg­ging for party favors
Dressed in Sun­day fin­ery
Hid­ing the thread worn elbows
And the yel­low­ing white
Of faded innocence

No one will show
I never do
And mem­ory will shed tears
And slowly fade
Dis­solve
Dis­persed into the wind tun­nel of time’s inex­orable march
Towards…
Some­thing…
Some place…
Its last words always

“But what of Love?”

I smile
Let the Poet sing its glory
I had my fill of it

Besides

Clint is dead

Hover­ing amid storm clouds
A bas­tion of bro­ken Earth and end­less sky
Moats armed with night­mares
And a child’s bro­ken cry
Eter­nal light­ning flash­ing
Stac­cato rev­e­la­tions in bas-relief
Waves of dark­ness crash­ing
Cloak­ing all in disbelief

A ter­ri­ble bat­tles wages
Between right and what is wrong
Ema­ci­ated haloed min­strels
Seek­ing power for their song

Demonic war­riors in night black armor
Evil swords in black­ened hand
A Pal­adin on a golden Char­iot
Scarred and tor­tured
engaged in his last stand

Death strug­gles
Swords whirling and whin­ing Thanatos’s refrain
On this Island
In this time
Reveals an ancient pain

On this Island
Through the misty veil of time
One lone Pal­adin on a golden char­iot
Alone in epic strug­gle
Pay­ing eter­nally for his crime

A sin­gle tear is shed
Vapor­ized by con­sum­mate fire
For­got­ten water for the dead

The hole is get­ting emp­tier
As the faces fade
Into the shad­ows of the walls.
The faces never smiled any­way…
Just stared inward
With vacant eyes
Col­lect­ing data.

Invis­i­ble ten­ta­cles
Push away the sky
Demonic hoards work grav­ity machines
And archaic machin­ery
Fueled by lust and burn­ing souls
Faces replaced by black hearts
Not deign­ing to beat
Fly­ing Iri­des­cent insects wing­less
Fall
Deeper Into the chasm

The insa­tiable void
Devours screams into silence
Just below the slow lurch­ing rhythm
Of organic cogs plead­ing
For release…
Plead­ing to the supreme mus­cle
That will never cease.

The mech­a­nisms of the hole
Have all become vis­i­ble.
Each mask of flesh
And tis­sue has dis­solved…
The pre­tense of all human issues
Has been resolved
With the clar­ity of a sin­gle glance
Inward–
Into the eye of raw pri­mor­dial reality.

Eerie calm
Amidst the howl­ing silence
Essence dis­tilled
Gran­u­lated
Await­ing deploy­ment
Shape Shift­ing shad­ows
With wands made of clouds
And aban­doned bones
Pre­pare incan­ta­tions
Ecto­plas­mic scripts float upward
Nucleotides seek­ing union amidst the pul­sat­ing mass
The Hole pre­pares for birth

All pos­si­ble data
Has been col­lected
The embryo
Weath­ered by caus­tic evil
Inten­tion­ally unpro­tected
Emits a siren’s blar­ing cry
Of liv­ing…
Of liv­ing…
The ini­tial sign
Of human life unforgiving.

The world spins
The omnipresent com­post heap
Obey­ing New­ton­ian laws
Uncon­cerned
Cold
Distant

It don’t give a Fuck
If you live
Or if you die

It just

Turns

And you die

One day at a time

Clocks do not exist in nature
Just our way
Of count­ing down

To check out time

Lord how we hate those ticks

Tick

Tick

Tick

It approx­i­mates the beat
Of a heart

Which

One day

Will no longer

Tick

Don’t worry bout it

The Carousel

Is still going

To

Spin

As if the beats of my heart were unique.
As if I were a star in a long dead con­stel­la­tion
To be res­ur­rected by sad eyes

Lay­ers of false hope strew the stage
Genet­i­cally pre­dis­po­si­tioned to save the gene
I am more than that fuckers!

Climb they implore
Can you not see the light?
I can not be blinded by false hope

Their pen­ciled stick fig­ured God
Would embrace me
Like some chick’s cheap fuck toy

Would you cheapen insan­ity?
Make it a crawl­ing insect
Search­ing for death?

I stare at the world
In a ring made of cheap dreams
It ain’t good enough

I go deeper into the maze
The path is down
Not up

I am the last magi­cian
But I ply no tricks
I just dig

Deeper

Deeper

Death sil­hou­ettes

Dance melan­choly minuets

Accrued dust scatters

Face­less vio­lins sigh

Mourn­ers do not bother to take up the chant

Smooth­ing wrin­kled skirts and check­ing fin­ger­nail length

Bored and dis­tracted with parched eyes inca­pable of tears

Sounds wither and die

Vibra­tions stilled and uncaring

Set­tle in for the long sleep

Wind becomes breeze and breeze…

Lies motion­less upon the mound

It’s cold’s time

Calm­ing the whine of mean­ing and loss

Thoughts crum­ble and descend upon the sleep­ing earth

Lying beside por­tent shards of strange magik

It all goes away

Whirling down sweet silence

Leave me alone

Don’t wake me…

My face is blis­tered by the demands

The sug­ges­tions to free

Cut and cauterized–

They’ve hurt me.

Have you not heard me pleading

For the release of all that caresses?

His release.

Have you not heard me beg­ging to the presses

All these years?

I’ve done what was asked

Walked across acres upon acres of shards of glass

Passed razors through the maze of my soul

Dis­sected my heart with a mon­o­cle mirror

And I’m whole

I’ve for­given my fingers

And I’m whole…



But his release–

His release demands of my mind’s eye

His suf­fer­ing rakes the embers of my need

To sus­tain my high

Blis­tered and scarred

Ris­ing to an inferno I can’t disregard

And my fin­gers beseech thee

As my con­science screeches to me daily

Release him

Just release him so my sight can see

He lives with­out me

Sat­is­fac­to­rily

Allow me to wit­ness him serene

In the wild

Liv­ing out his most desired dream

And he will be filed under case closed.

I’ve done what was asked

I’ve inhaled the rose

And suf­fered each thorn as it passed

Licked the morn­ing dew from your boots

Uprooted roots I thought would never be free

And rotated eye­balls to view within

The bloody inter­nal mas­sacre of sin and debris…

I guess I just don’t know what you want from me



But you know what I want from you

Oh you’ve always known what I want from you

And you hold it close to your chest

Under lock and key and duress

I could kill myself, leave a sim­ple note of sin­gu­lar pleas

But you still wouldn’t give me what I need–

His release.

For his release is mine



And you’ll never let me go

Blis­tered and mangled

You’ll never let me go as such…

I’ve seen too much.



©Jen2010 1–31

Doth thy hunger seek redress
In
Sub­tle Death?

Con­sum­ing essence
best left for
Children’s innocence?

Wouldst thy shed skin
And life
for
a but­ter­flies
Errant Path?

Dance to a falling leaf
in Autumns pain?

A drunk­ards folly
in muted scream?

The flayed skin of truth
Cry­ing imag­i­nary sin?

Would it be
The Die
Rolls
For purpose?

That the Ran­dom Gods
Do so shud­der
at Happenstance?

Would it be the clenched tear
Finds
res­o­lu­tion
In
Linens gen­tle catch

Eat not thy Tail Ourbo­ras
Seek truths gen­tle caress
Let her dic­tates
love you

Seek her embrace
And know
The truth
of pain.

Wouldst thy tail
be
An
End
Unto
itself?

Bubbles…

How your per­fec­tion mocks me

Float­ing on gen­tle current

Adher­ing to immutable laws

As king­doms of men rot in dusty tombs

Ratios and pro­por­tions established

Before the Pharaohs were young

Before the ances­tors of man walked upright

Uncon­cerned with the triv­i­al­i­ties of the world

As kin­folk pop and burst upon the lilac scented air

Do you know the mys­ter­ies you carry?

Do you pon­der your mortality?

Ques­tion your purpose?

Can you plumb the depths of this world?

Pierce the shad­ows that claim the light?

See inside a woman’s heart?

Give mean­ing to the mad­ness I see?

I am flawed

A con­ver­gence of nucleic acids

Coded by uncar­ing mad­men at the the­ater of the absurd

I am the upside of the die

The tum­bling leaf tossed to and fro

by uncar­ing breeze

The spin­ning wheel whose destination

Yet deter­mined

You care lit­tle for the truths that drifts beside you

That affirm you

Spher­i­cal truths of an omnipo­tent God

Who taunts me

Bub­bles…

Only Bub­bles

The world was in chaos

Turns out

The mad­men were right

The Tribu­la­tion

The Rap­ture

The Wrath of Trumpets

And the almighty had spoken

His voice

Sound­ing a bit like Grou­cho Marx

Pro­claim­ing

“I’m flush­ing you all down the hopper”

Accom­pa­nied by Archangels’ on Horns

And the whole rhythm sec­tion was indeed

The pur­ple gang

Men of God

Gashed their Teeth

Unable to assimilate

They were right

All along.

I couldn’t under­stand the madness

The tears

The wrench­ing of hands

I always knew

It was a five ticket ride

A cou­ple of laps around the track

Then

Some­one else’s turn

I thought of the woman

I had loved

And won­dered

What they were doing…

I thought of love

How it never seemed to last

Eter­nal yet

Frag­ile, like hand craved China

And

How my clumsy fingers

Always seemed to break it

I could never glue those pieces

Back together again

Sad…

I thought of the rich

And how pissed they must have been

To real­ize

That at the end of all things

All the wealth they’ve accumulated

Didn’t mean fuck

I thought of the poor and the sick

How they must have been saying

About time

I decide to roll solo

No sense being a hypocrite

At the very end

I got a beach chair

And sat

A hot wind was blow­ing cold

There was fire in the sky

A young child

In tears

Was wan­der­ing lost down the street

I knew him

Appar­ently his par­ents couldn’t take the pressure

and offed themselves

I guess they wanted bet­ter seats

Self­ish bastards

I scooped him up in my arms

And turned him to face me

It looked wicked up there

He smiled

I smiled

We waited

But not too long