The writings of Oddpoet » Dark Poetry

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oddpoet1 — Sun, 18 Apr 2010 14:52:02 +0000

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

It approximates the beat
Of a heart

Which

One day

Will no longer

Tick

Don’t worry bout it

The Carousel

Is still going

Spin

And God smiled

Eddie Mount — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 13:08:07 +0000

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

My Tears Sizzel in Hell

Eddie Mount — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 15:44:34 +0000

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

Eddie Mount — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 08:22:21 +0000

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

Her Reflection~para

Para — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:25:14 +0000

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

Our House Of Horror~para

Para — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 18:22:56 +0000

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

The Ground Upon Which Riots Flare~para

Para — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 18:43:49 +0000

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…

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

Massacre ~Para~

Para — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 08:10:49 +0000

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

Apocalytic Stew

Eddie Mount — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 22:36:59 +0000

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