The writings of Oddpoet

Poetry that bleeds, screams and never sleeps

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

Savage cold froze tears
Shed in the unquench­able fires
The click clack of cat­tle cars
On smooth high­ways of steel
Hyp­no­tized
Like the coiled rat­tle of snakes
Ven­omous and demand­ing



The air was stale
Tainted by tired breath
Love had no place here
It fled
Embar­rassed by its weak­ness
Its false heart
Yet singing its own glory
Skip­ping and hold­ing hands with invis­i­ble Jus­tice



Herded into shacks
Made of Earth bone
Cursed wood
And the dried hides of Demons
The tor­tured screams of sac­ri­fi­cial lambs
Bleat­ing
mes­mer­iz­ing
drown­ing out all sounds
Of nor­malcy
Appendages of the damned
Clawed Blood runes onto wooden floors
Incan­ta­tions invok­ing divin­ity



“Am I not a Son of David?“
“Wouldst thou for­sake me Lord?“



The sky rum­bled and parted in majes­tic dis­play
And
God
Smiled


Hud­dled skele­tal mon­sters
Where flesh refused to take root
Bones grow­ing
Skin with­er­ing
Daugh­ters raped
The teeth of Sons removed for metal
To fash­ion char­i­ots for ancient Death Kings
Life­times removed from false hope
A miasma of evil Blot­ted Sun
it will never be inno­cent again
Nor will it ever shine as bright



Lib­er­a­tors bear­ing sticks of death
Saw the walk­ing corpses
In this camp of death
They vom­ited up fake hel­los
And shal­low mean­der­ings
Of a dis­tant san­ity
For­ever lost
To evil’s banal face



The world stopped
And was rede­fined



The skele­tal horde
Walked as col­lec­tive accu­sa­tions



As one man
they looked
To the sky
And demanded
“How can this be?”

The sky parted
Seraphim’s and Elohim’s
Bore the Arc of the Covenant
Blaz­ing in Nova light
Pow­er­ful voices Boomed
Across the dark­ened sky
“Holy Holy Holy“
“Behold the face of omnipotence”

God Looked down
And
God
…
…
…
Smiled

They come unbid­den
Hated mois­ture best left for ger­mi­nat­ing some­one else’s pain
Blub­ber­ing like some fag­got Mother fucker

Don’t touch me!
I do not need your comfort!

When they come
They will not stop
A bro­ken water main
Fuck­ing with traf­fic
STOP YOU MOTHER FUCKER
I am NOT A FAGGOT!

yet they leak from my eyes
Palm pressed against can not stem that flow
Stain­ing clothe innu­mer­able
as I cry blood!

Why am I thus assaulted?

Why does the lonely cry of a mourn­ing dove
Drive me to my knees?
Why does the wist­ful look of part­ing lovers
scream heartache that shakes my soul!

Do my tears
par­ti­tion this Earth
And renew this World?

I will have no part of this madness!

I will drown in them
Let my tears siz­zle in Hell
I will bath this world in tears
and dim the flames of pain

Siz­zle tears of blood
my gift to this sad world.

The Vul­tures sing
A vicious song
Rapa­cious
Bit­ter



Hun­gry



Patient



Glid­ing
Upon invis­i­ble air
Wings paint­ing death



Their clock ticks slow
Like metronomes
Bleed­ing
Mor­tal­ity



Their har­mony
Dis­cor­dant
Jagged
Dis­so­nant
Atonal
Sus­pended fourth
Need­ing res­o­lu­tion



They alight
On the fir­ma­ment
Coal black eyes
See­ing through Life
Pass the veil
Into eter­nal
Damna­tion



Wait­ing
For the last beat of the heart
For the feast



They are God’s
Favorite chil­dren



He loves their song
Plays it con­stantly
On his celes­tial iPod



“Sing my off­spring”
“Sing me to sleep”



God slept



And
No one
NO ONE
NO ONE



Can



Ever
Wake
That
Mother
Fucker
Up

She sits at her van­ity
Peer­ing at her reflec­tion…
Deep lines plague her fore­head,
Her pale skin, matte,
The down­turned scowl denies
Any beauty to radi­ate
From her vis­age–
He had made her ugly.



He’d poi­soned the well
From which her quill drank
Until all she could express
Was vile anger and repug­nance;
It stole the sun from her days
And the com­fort from her pil­lows
At night.



He’d sent let­ters of splen­dor
Exquis­ite out­pour­ings of ado­ra­tion
And strik­ing gar­dens of golden sun­sets,
Such awe-inspiring images of devo­tion
And eter­nal love–
They were never addressed to her.
Still
She kept them tucked in her heart,
Decay rooted into infec­tion
And dis­ease surged out­ward
With each silent beat.



She sits at her van­ity
Peer­ing into her reflec­tion
Rem­i­nisc­ing moments
Of days
When the warmth of the sun caressed her cheek
And flow­ers per­ished fra­grant
For her mere atten­tion…
She had been beau­ti­ful then.






©Jen2010 2–8

I’m at a loss as I fall
To my knees and scream to what lies beyond
The skies
What lies beyond the walls
Of this house you’ve built for us…



I hear your cries shack­led
In a room far below
Stir­ring the dust on my chains
As I rant and rave in defi­ance
To these blood-encrusted cuffs meant not to drain
The life cours­ing through my veins
But my will…
My will to escape…



The dark­ness bub­bles before my eyes
Stained in the deep­est red
For it’s all that I see
Derid­ing the light of truth
That I will never be free of this house
Of your cries
That I can never assuage…



Music down the hall seeks
To nul­lify
To tem­per my fevered brow
But it only lends eerie to hor­ri­fied
Lends ques­tion to fear
For now
Is the only moment my life can grasp…



Upon bruised and scabbed knees
I hang
Arms splayed in a mock cross
Bleed­ing from the inside out
Too many years resid­ing in the dark
A noc­tur­nal wisp of a soul
Sac­ri­ficed
For your free­dom…



Free­dom you never embraced.



©Jen2010 2–8

My words and thoughts are sought
On the mat­ter
But blocked
Dis­man­tled by the uni­ver­sal cock
Of the mad hat­ter…



Block it.
Seal the dark­ness from the light
Of the lat­ter.
Light always has a way of pen­e­tra­tion
Forc­ing its way into the degen­er­a­tion
Of white on black
That lacks noth­ing more
Than the sub­stance of color.



It calms
It claims vir­tual real­ity of valor
In the sub-sequential dual­ity
Of twin peaks
Wink­ing at the sun above the mist of cloud.



They want me dead
And so do I…
Aloud…
But you just can’t let the grip slack
No mat­ter what turns black
And what falls to frost bite.



Des­per­a­tion isn’t a pretty color
At nightvi­o­lent
Some­where between the ultra vio­lent
And infra-readiness…



I won’t live on the edge of your rib­bon
As less
As adorn­ment
Or sed­i­ment dried
By blaz­ing sun­light and ter­mi­nal winds
As for­lorn spent
On Sun­day after­noons.



I am every color of the rain­bow
And the moon
Muted to mono­chrome too soon
By the whimsy thrown
And tied at the ends of braids…
I’m not here to pretty the parades
Of black and white cha­rades.



I won’t stay
To wit­ness your decay.
I won’t stay
To wit­ness my mon­soon of tears…
Not tomor­row or today.
You could claim your fears
But they knew you wouldn’t…
There’s so much more
That means so much more to you
That you couldn’t.



I’ll refrain from weav­ing chains
That grew
Around the cir­cum­stance
Meant to only drain you
And the color from the worth of dance
And it wanes…
Con­se­quen­tial panes
Of mir­rored glass…



You turned me into you:



Chaotic and lost
In Won­der­land alas…
Where the only way out
Is through
This
Pass.



Unfor­tu­nate to be left with only
Through.






©Jen2010 2–6



Cours­ing
Under­stand­ing
Only nul­li­fies
Ther­mal heated electro-magnetism
Of top­i­cal heroic ego­tism regur­gi­tated
So I dream ethe­real…

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

They were cut into bloody chunks

Just raw hunks of meat and bone

With flesh hang­ing in sinewy strands

Drip­ping putrid gore…

All stacked nice and neat

Around the bor­ders of a mind

Closed from all view other than mas­sacre.

They deserved it.

The mind cried rot­ten green fingers

From blood-shot eyes

Know­ing just one thing…



They deserved it.

The mind spit blood

On them in contempt

Their own blood

Spit

Upon sadis­tic smirks and laughter.

The mind peeled back eyelids

With sur­gi­cal precision

So that they could see

Their death upon the minds death

Upon their death…

But they would never look

Past the cornea.

Walk­ing death.

The mind strolls midday

Con­ceal­ing disease

Cough­ing out shyly

Ran­cid bits of elbow and scalp

Into a fancy lace mono­grammed han­kie



But…



By mid­night the mind returns for more rearranging

More chop­ping

More axing of body parts into smaller pieces

To be shaken free from nos­tril and ear

As the mind walks down the dark­ened path

Leav­ing a trail of mushy decom­posed toes, labia, and vertebrae

To find the way back home.



They deserved it.

They all deserved it.

The mind rests at night

On a bed of spines

Snug­gling pil­lows of brain matter

And blan­kets of flesh

The night­mares never cease

For they laugh in the face of mur­der.

©Jen2010 1–25

Apoca­lyp­tic Stew

Phase
Shift
Crazed
Rift

Argent
Black­ness
Cogent
Confess

Vicious dogs
Mangy mutts
Pinup hogs
Vile sluts

Some fallen Priests
Are eying cock
A banker’s feast
A scat­tered flock

All wounded souls here
Spin the wheel of time
No one can see clear
Rea­sons con­fused crime

Cen­ter­folds are singing
A crass and tune­less song
Demon wasps are sting­ing
The poi­soned malaise strong

Who truly can remem­ber
When it all came tum­bling down
That dark day in Novem­ber
We all wore the jester’s crown