The writings of Oddpoet

I like shiny things, I'm very superficial.

There are so many suf­fo­cat­ing images
On the sec­ond story
That they jump for their lives
Like glo­ries on fire
Flam­ing the sky
With the back­drop clouds
To liven the enter­tain­ment
For eyes dry
And clouded over by judg­ment
And for the tries dimin­ished
At the wake of shrouds
Revealed.



Images that wit­ness their own death
Forced still­births
For the sake of held breath
And the mea­sur­ing of penis girth
Of mere babes
Sealed upon impact
To be mem­o­ries
Held tight as momen­tary fact
And glim­mer­ings of what could have been
Of what can­not defend itself
As real­ity…
Too late
Just another casu­alty
Of feel­ing black­ened
By the great pharaohs
Elated
Berated again.



They were
But can­not be proven
Again as uncer­tain
Cre­mated for blurt­ing the words
Into the vol­cano of the sun…
What was begun
Was heard
Then spun
Into a thou­sand shat­tered webs
Weep­ing
And keep­ing track­ing of each tear
Sleep­ing on the edge of the pil­low…
Each creep­ing sil­hou­ette
Dis­solves
Upon the light of day.



There’s noth­ing left wide open
And noth­ing left
With more to say or groom…
The will cuts the
Umbil­i­cal
As death screams silence
To echo
Within the pyramid’s tomb
As a bereft womb.



©Jen2010 2–5

My broth­ers hear the crash and break the door down… Absurdly, I men­tally curse Home Depot and their cheap fuck­ing doors. So there I am with a belt around my neck and the entire drop ceil­ing strewed about the room. I fuck­ing hate failed sui­cide attempts. I mean what can you say, “Whoops?” It’s like get­ting caught by your future ex-wife with your sweat pants draped about your ankles wax­ing your car­rot to the Fredrick’s of Hol­ly­wood web site. That has hap­pened to you, right? Please say yes.

I briefly won­der how woman mas­tur­bate. Prob­a­bly with envi­ron­men­tally friendly solar pow­ered dil­dos. I hate Women.

So my older Bro says, “Dick­weed, stick with drink­ing your­self to death, suits your style.” Gotta love my Brother.

So I decide to go out­side, which is a feat in itself because I haven’t left my room in about three months. I find most peo­ple bor­ing — I really hate rub­bing elbows with the fuck­ers. I leave the belt around my neck; I fig­ure maybe I can pass it off as some kind of new sar­to­r­ial style.

I see the mail­man and I was going to tell him to stop deliv­er­ing me mail, I don’t open the fuck­ers– what’s the point. But, I fig­ured he worked for the Post Office and there­fore was in his own pri­vate hell.

So I make it to the over­pass, beneath me is the New Jer­sey Turn­pike. I read some­where; it was one of the most trav­eled roads in the US. I watched the social insects whiz by. I dig the sound. The World is full of songs; you just have to know how to listen.

I notice the inward curv­ing fence and it pisses me off. (I’m always pissed) I mean it’s not like I can’t get some C4 and blow a whole in the sucker.

I know they are try­ing to stop jumpers. Not because they care about human life, they don’t want you fuck­ing with traf­fic. I once saw a jumper splat­tered like sea gull shit on the asphalt. Peo­ple were get­ting out of their cars and kick­ing the dead fucker say­ing shit like:

“I got a mas­sage in 30 min­utes I’m late because of you dead shit”

“I have a two hour win­dow to cheat on my hus­band and fuck Ted the insur­ance man”

And my per­sonal favorite:

“Some­one scrape this dead fucker off the road”

So I mosey down to the local Dot Head store. What’s his name is at the counter. Cool dude but he has far too many con­so­nants in his name. Hence “What’s his name?” Now, he has this pet Ana­conda who he loves, so I ask him if he has any new pic­tures and his eyes light up and says: “I’ll be right back.” He runs to the back room and I run to chest freezer where­upon I start stuff­ing frozen Ice cream sand­wiches down by pants and in my pock­ets. I love steal­ing shit and I love Ice cream sandwiches.

So he comes back and starts show­ing me the pic­tures of his pet snake and in the mean­time my balls are freez­ing from the frozen Ice Cream sand­wiches stuffed in there and let’s face it, who needs frozen balls.

I give him a fake smile and I split and start eat­ing my plun­der. Oh yea, then I went home.

Screams

Demonic

Drown­ing out heav­enly choir.

Cherubs

Laugh­ing

Crea­tures of despair

Singing



Armed only with smirk and pain.

I sit and wait

I already know my fate

My guardian whis­pers in ter­ri­fied pleading

“It’s not too late”



Seek­ing comfort

I com­fort.

Want­ing relief

I relieve

Need­ing some­one to catch my tears

I find I can no longer cry.

“Go! And sal­vage the salvageable”

Its screams sucked down by Newton’s insight



At the Crossroads

No color

Bat­tle­ship grey

Tis a place

No one need be



I am no longer

A Man

But a cor­us­cat­ing sem­blance of

For­got­ten dreams

Trans­par­ent

My essence

Dis­played

Like a cheap dime store man­nequin



One approaches

Glides

Not deign­ing to step

Another

Flut­ters down from angry heaven

Two crea­tures of absolute

Good

Evil

They Vie

“Take my path” they cry

Why?



Mozart and Wagner

Hess and

Cer­vantes

Approach

Enter

The debate

Cer­vantes speaks

“Take nei­ther left nor right!”

“Heed Don Quixote’s quest”

“Fight the windmill.”

“There will you find”

“Heart and soul’s true test.”



I cannot

Smile

Wince is all

I can

Do

At the Crossroads

A myr­iad of paths

Good and Evil

Cry col­lec­tive disbelief

As they merge and blend into

Log­i­cal incon­sis­tency



Pock marked Mozart

Catches my sight­less eye

“Only through music”

“Can”

“The heart be sung.”



I

Try

To dust off the pain

But it is alloyed

Fused with my heart

I stand

Know­ing my last act

Will be

Defi­ance

But

One last song

I need to

sing

It was a rick­ety old thing…

The train that is…

Filled with busted dreams

And

Salty tears

And face­less people

Who no longer cared



There were not many there to see me off

Just a few…

They begged me not to leave

Where was I going

I had no idea

I was just going

Who can answer such questions

Their tears were touching

As If they knew

I was never com­ing back



Take directions

No point in that

I never fol­low them

Go right

I go left

Besides

No mat­ter which way you go

You always arrive at your des­ti­na­tion



Look­ing back

I won­der if I had a choice

If I could have changed anything

Might as well try to change

The color of your eyes

The way you laugh

Or

Will the rain away



I arrived

It was a cold place

The Sun sel­dom shone here

Twi­light the best you could hope for

There were no flowers

Just twisted green things

Reach­ing out

Towards an invis­i­ble savior

In that struggle

They were beau­ti­ful



There is much beauty here

A daunt­ing will to survive

Which per­me­ates all life



A dour moon

Which paint all in glim­mer­ing ice crys­tals



An inces­sant breeze

That orches­trates

A heartrend­ing dance



A Landscape

Hewed from Earth’s tired bones

Stabs out at the night

Pro­claim­ing In painful epitaph

“I am Alive“



But here…

There be Demons

I AM SKIN STRETCHED TAUNT

I AM EVERYTHING AND NOTHING

BLOOD, GUTS, BONE, SINEW

AM I MORE THAN THE SUM OF MY PARTS?



I AM ENERGY’S SWIRLING DANCE OF ELECTRONS

I AM THE SCIENTIST’S CONFUSION

TO UNDERSTAND

THE UNDEFINABLE

WHAT CONTAINS ME?



MY EMOTIONS SEETHE.

A MAELSTROM OF NEVER FORGOTTEN DESPAIR

ROOTED LIKE CORAL

SURROUNDED BY TURQUOISE MEMORY

TRAILING TO AND FRO TOWARDS MYSTERIOUS LOVE

DESIRE’S MISTRESS, COLD HEARTED AND FAIR

ALABASTER

STONE

TASTELESS



I AM KINDLING

MATCHLESS,

CONSPIRING DRY

READY TO ERUPT INTO MAJESTIC DANCING TONGUES OF FLAME



I AM THE BLANK SLATE.

AN ARTISTS HUMBLING YEARNING TO BECOME



I AM DEVOTION TO RITUAL

I PLAY OUT IN ENDLESS SCREAMS OF FRUSTRATED CONSTRUCTS



DEATH WHO DO YOU SEEK?

IF NOT ME



I AM THE VAGABOND

HOMELESS

BEREFT OF KINSHIP

WHAT I EAT OTHERS HAVE NO NEED FOR

NO CHARITY

SIMPLE EXCESS



I AM THE BLADE OF GRASS

THE LENGTH OF MY LIFE

DETERMINED BY THE TILT OF THE EARTH

AND THE PARCHNESS OF THE SOIL



I AM THE MISFIT

NO DESTINY

NO FATE

MERELY A CONFLUENCE OF UNRELATED EVENTS

A MUTATED STRAND OF DNA

REPLICATING

BECOMING

ME



DEATH SMILES AND OPENS IT’S ARMS

HE SMILES PLEASANTLY

OLD FRIEND

WE SHALL MEET SOON

I GOT NOTHING BUT TIME

I DO NOT FEAR THEE, REAPER

AM I DIFFERENT THEN THE FALLEN LEAVES THAT FEEDS THE TREE?

OR THE CARCASS THAT THE LION DEVOURS?

SUCH A SMALL PRICE



I AM ILLUSION. YOU CAN NOT SEE ME

I AM THE CHILD READING HESS, CAMUS, FREUD AND DOSTOEVSKY

SEEKING TRUTH

NEVER FINDING



I AM ODIN’S THUNDERBOLT, HERCULES STRENGTH, THOR’S HAMMER AND DIONYSUS LAMENT

I AM THE CASTRO’S BALLS

ROLLING…

TOWARDS CHANGE AND REVOLUTION



I AM THE FORGOTTEN POEMS OF LOVE

I AM BEAUTY NO ONE WILL SEE OR HEAR

LONELIER IS THE WORLD WITHOUT ME



HOPELESS REFRAIN

FEEL WHAT I FEEL

SUCH HURT

SUCH PAIN



I AM A MISTRESS’S BEAUTY

LUST SO PURE

LEAVING HEART’S BROKEN

TEARS

AND PAIN



I AM THE ONE EYED JANUS

I SEE THE PAST

NO FUTURE

NOTHING

BUT DARKNESS



I SEEK MY SOUL

THERE MUST BE MORE TO THIS…

AM I BUT WORM FOOD?

OR A WEAVE IN THE UNIVERSAL CLOTH.



I AM INFINITELY FINITE

I AM LOVE’S LAMENT

I AM GUTS AND BLOOD

COVERED BY SKIN

STRETCHED SO TAUNT.

WAS I THE LAMB WHO STRAYED FROM THE FOLD?

WITH BLEEDING HEART BEATING SYNCOPATED RHAPSODY

BLIND TO THE TENEMENT CITADEL THAT LIES

WITHIN YOUR FALSE HEART!

CALLING SEX’S’ DESIRE,

YOUR LEGS FLY OPEN LIKE SCREEN DOOR SUMMER!

YOUR MUTATED DNA LAYING CONGEALED AND FERMENTING TOWARDS PATHLESS FUTURE.

WHILE YOU’RE MOANING FORGED PASSION!



CAN HE HEAR YOU?



AM I LAZARUS FRESHLY RISEN

ONLY TO BE SLAUGHTERED ANEW EACH DAY?

PELTING ROCKS AND UNCHIVALROUS ARROWS STRIKING MY FACELESS BACK?

FALLEN HEROES RISING FROM ANCIENT BATTLEFIELDS CRYING HAVOC AND ATTACK!…ATTACK!…ATTACK…!

AM I COMPELLED TO BECOME ODIN’S SPEAR, VISHNU’S POWER AND ACHILLES WRATH?

DO FORCE MY TREAD UPON THAT PATH!



WILL I METASTIZE MALINGNAT CANCERS SCREAMING MY MORTALITY?

WILL THE SAME WIND THAT CHILLS MY SOUL TOUCH EVERY ONE AS FATALLY?

WILL I EVER BE PART OF SOMETHING GREATER THAN I CAN EVER BE?

ROOTLESS AND ALONE AS DECADENT SUMMER’S STORM TOSSED TREE?

IN DARKNESS SO BLACK NO LIGHT CAN PIERCE NOR EYE CAN SEE.

WILL THE LOCKED DOOR OF WISDOM DENIED, FOREVER BETRAY ME



DO THE DANCING PLANET’S CONFORM TO KEPLER’S LAWS

OR ON A WHIM.

AM I FOREVER CONSIGNED TO PARADISE LOST AND ORIGINAL SIN…

I slith­ered out of the Chrysalis
The all know­ing Raven chuck­led
“You have not yet devolved.”
“You will be back”
thought briefly I should snap its neck
But he was stronger than I could ever be.



I parted the veil
And entered the night
Dark­ness is a gift
To be trea­sured.
A blan­ket of false deceit
Truth’s rev­e­la­tion.
The light lies
Dark­ness knows all



The cold air
Washes over me
A brief still­ing of mol­e­c­u­lar motion.
The caress of an icy hand
Tells me
“Warmth makes you sleep”
“She is the false touch”



The Cold is Dark’s friend
Not so secret lovers
Eter­nally con­spir­ing



I knew I was tres­pass­ing
Tread­ing paths not meant for me
Yet I felt the need
To see
To feel
This aban­doned Play­ground



Sleep­ing Man­nequins
Being recharged
Repro­grammed
New dia­logue being writ­ten by wraiths
Their tooth­less smiles plan­ning new heartaches
A child will be raped on this stage
A human heart will stop beat­ing
I could not stop it
Tears froze



I slith­ered back into the Chrysalis
The all know­ing Raven chuck­led
“I knew you would be back”
“You have not yet devolved”
I wanted to snap its neck
But he was stronger than I could ever be

I sud­denly became aware I was
Dis­tinct
Sep­a­rate
Alive
Cov­ered in blood
Won­der­ing
What it was
This
Thing
Called life
I heard the cries of aborted fetuses
Seek­ing repen­tance
Seek­ing abso­lu­tion
For imag­ined crimes.
Their sin
Incon­ve­nience
There wails drowned
Muted and masked
By heavy machin­ery
Oper­ated by manic thought police
Dressed as sailors
Car­ry­ing hypo­der­mics
Filled with mind fuck

I was to be the trained seal
In the cir­cus of garbage
They didn’t know
I was bro­ken, incom­plete
I escaped to
The night­mare of the real

It was not really reality

Nor was it Lies
It was a hal­cyon era of apple scented mad­ness
Laced with truss rods of greased despair

Blind­folded visions of genet­i­cally altered cir­cus midgets
Play­ing mime to blind audiences

Painted vir­gins with jism stained dol­lar bills
Rolled, shaken
And stirred
Inserted Into for sale orifices

The screams of sev­ered heads plead­ing for body complete

Mutated Pheas­ants armed with auto­mat­ics
Butt fuck­ing hunters who scream why?

The dead become annoyed
Seek­ing eter­nal rest
Screech­ing alarm clocks
Awaken them
As the sadis­tic Gods laugh

Pissed off Zom­bies cry­ing “Brains”
Can’t find any

Bankers molest­ing children

Lawyers blow­ing bankers

Politi­cians laugh a creak­ing rusty hinged sound

Sight­less lovers seek­ing ful­fill­ment
Feel­ing only whores and lies

Mir­rors offer no com­fort
That swirling mist of promised magic
Merely con­firmed who we are not

Truth that cheap FILTHY WHORE

Screams orgas­mic shouts and moans
Body quiv­er­ing
Pre­tend­ing
She is not a will­ing sac­ri­fice at the altar of con­ve­nience
The vic­tim of lie’s ser­pent tongued promises?

Engulfed in an ill-fitted black robe of the lonely heart

They are all out of solace

Tears always pave the path to surrender

Emo­tions seethe and boil

Crit­i­cal mass reached.

I no longer sleep in a bed.
Beds are for faggots

There can be no com­fort here

I roll on the floor
At home with roaches and the denizens of the night

Leath­ery wings Play ser­rated whip saw sounds

Only I can hear

The sounds of bare survival

They laugh at joy

Chit­ter­ing know­ing words

They speak
Whispering

“You do not belong
You never did”

Yet they call me back
“YOU WILL JOIN US!”

The sound of cocked pis­tols
And lawyer lies
Con­gealed like Hye­nas
Bark­ing on an asphalt park­ing lot

Baby’s heads greas­ing the treads of wheeled deceit

Yet their vam­pire smiles
No longer frighten me

“YOU WILL JOIN US!”
The Zom­bie choir sings
Feign­ing Mozart

They do not suf­fer alien­ation
The law of lies and mad­ness will pre­vail
No sanc­ti­fi­ca­tion
No abso­lu­tion
I ignore them all
Mere tune­less wind chimes
Play­ing dis­cor­dant exis­ten­tial sounds of phony despair

Death knocks at my door
He claims us all as his own
He drips drool like Pavlov’s dog

I smile
I have been seek­ing you Death
Your lies stink
How can you claim one
Who has never lived?

His steps fal­ter
His sickle
Becomes
A broom
And I charge him to sweep the pain from this World

The though police
Cap­tured me
Finally

Kafka was the judge and jury
I was con­victed
Of seek­ing mean­ing in the meaningless

“Don’t you know?” he laughed
“Life is just a hal­cyon era of apple scented madness”