The writings of Oddpoet » angst

Meant to Bleed

oddpoet1 — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 21:01:53 +0000

All my fault
I wanted to belong
To be a part of it
Always peering through that gate
That fence
That cage
That caul

So they gave me
The white pills
And the tan pills
The big pills
and cute little footballs
All very scientific
Stamped and approved
By the FDA

Would they change me?
Would I no longer be
Who I am?
They laugh at me
Ain’t that the point
You stupid mother fucker!

I took em
I hear them Yippie-yi-yo-ki-yaying
Through by bloodstream
like kids on a water slide
But when they get to my brain
Oh they get serious
I can hear the clang of hammers
And droning sounds of drills
And the rumble of heavy machinery
Earth movers and cranes
A mechanized symphony

And they don’t change me
They don’t change anything
Numb me for an hour or two
Bout it.

You can never fix a broken mirror
or read a book
With missing pages
Mute people can’t talk
And the deaf can’t hear
Some things are just meant
To be broken
cracked and imperfect
Some things are just meant
To bleed

So I can never have their love
or their joy
or their beauty
their contentments
their smiles

I don’t understand them
And they’ll never understand me
Nothing wrong with that
Just the way it is
Some things are just meant to be broken
Some things are just meant to bleed.

Book of lost words

oddpoet1 — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 05:26:23 +0000

In garbage strewed alleys
The Book lay abandoned
A solitary Pen shudders in an uncaring wind
Rolling in time to the groans of dying gods

Words written in Human excrement
Smeared across aged brick
Proclaim the death of truth
Who wanders aimlessly
A mendicant seeking…
Always seeking…

Neon illuminates burnt souls
With store bought smiles
And snake oil pockets
Flashing credit cards
Like Gunslingers
Carrying Coupons
Written in third world blood

The Book with need
The Pen with passion
Lie covered
With collective indifference
Who would grasp the Ink?
Who would give voice?

Invisible tears
Mingle with flotsam and jetsam of the real
Blaring trumpets announce Phony Poets
Selling words and tin hearts
Passion hangs on a roadside bar
Feet kicking
Tongue lolling
With a face the shade
Of Martha Stewart’s bed sheet du Jour

It rather die than live here

It lays in garbage strewed alleys
Abandoned
Who will grasp the Ink?
Who will give voice?

Invisible

oddpoet1 — Sun, 02 May 2010 09:44:27 +0000

Can you see them?
There!
Over there!
Open your eyes Mother Fucker!

Yes
They’re wraiths
Specters
Chimeras
Light does not touch them
Slides off em
Like Teflon
You walk through them
Never around

At little Johnny’s soccer game
You step on their heads and laugh
You pull their arms and legs off
Use em
To push their dreams away

That much further from their grasp

Their tears harvested
By your corporate catchers
Who use them
To grease diamond studded pussy

Tasha, 1989
A real good year for pussy

Why?
You don’t fuck
You own
Love will never
Touch your soul

Oh yea
The blind cunt with the scales
Giggles
And says
“I can’t keep a straight face“
“Surely they must know“
“I’m not only blind“
“I don’t even give a fuck“

Laugh
Laugh
Laugh

The Invisible
Do not laugh
They do not smile
Do not enjoy
Golden sun rises
Nor
Nature’s palette
Such beauty is not
For them
They’re angry
Percolating rage
In
Dollar store Haute couture
Dreaming of disintegrating empires
Of castles
Torn apart by bloody hands
Of a World in flames
Of upside down crucifixes
Shoved up God’s pretentious ass

They huddle
In despair
And
They
Plot

Revenge

Justice

They Come for me

oddpoet1 — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 05:00:42 +0000

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

Silent Death Within The Tomb~para

Para — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 03:34:50 +0000

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

Another failed suicide attempt

Eddie Mount — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 18:31:49 +0000

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.

Crossroads

Eddie Mount — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 11:59:53 +0000

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

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

Here there be Demons

Eddie Mount — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 10:55:33 +0000

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

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

The Envelope

Eddie Mount — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 23:32:42 +0000

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.

ORIGINAL SIN

Eddie Mount — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 21:09:36 +0000

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…