Posts Tagged ‘death’
Don’t throw the corpes on our doorstep
Monday, June 13th, 2011Sleep my Brother
Saturday, September 4th, 2010~For Frank~
~ See you on the other side~
Did we not draw swords together?
I saw you on the field
Haloed and strong
None dare stand before you
Your sword flashed argent in the Sun
As your strokes fell
Demonic wraiths cowered and wept
And cursed the fires that spawned them
But there were too many
There are always…
Too many
The last thing I saw
Was
Your smile
…
…
…
A trail of tears leads
To that
Cold and cavernous hole that awaits you
Ground hard won and truly fought
Your Demons are vanquished
Your sword pitted and notched
Your scars vibrant and glowing
Lay it down my Brother
Lay it down
Merge with the leaf my friend
Let rain water anoint you
And wash your wounds clean
Pay no more heed to time’s march
Or the din of evaporating transience
Embrace the light that bathes you
And…
Sleep my Brother…
Sleep
On Obsession and the Big C
Friday, June 25th, 2010So bout a month ago I was feeling Bla. Ever feel Bla? it sucks, so I decided to work out. Now I’m thin and obsessive and when I work out, well…
So I’m pretty ripped right now but you’ll never see it. I’m not like one of those fags on the Space who show off their six packs, I do it for myself and… Okay, the chick next door I hate when you fuckers force me to tell the truth. Now I had this skin thingy I thought was Psoriasis so I’m ripped and I have my shirt off but only for the Sun to cure my Psoriasis thingy and the chick next door. Right?
Now I reclaiming my brothers yard that has been lost to Nature. I’m cutting trees, shrubs and I almost decapitated the Mailman who made the mistake of standing still under a tree I had my eye on. Now the more ripped I get the more the young chick next door waters her tomato plants, no shit! Funny as hell. I wanna tell her “your plants need snorkels.” I just smile and say “Hello” cause I’m on a mission and Rama of the jungle will not be denied. So I finally have the yard back and I get a call from the Dermatologist who took a skin sample a week ago for analysis. Turns out it’s Cancer.
I could give a fuck but I never miss an opportunity to fuck with people, Doctors, Judges, lawyers don’t matter. And the only reason I’m still alive is I’m waiting for Congress to pass that “Kick the fuck out of your Ex-wife day” Has anyone heard anything on that? Let me know if you hear anything. So she says it’s cancerous and I say,
“How did you know Doc? My birthday is the 20th of July and I am indeed a Cancer.”
“No, No Ed, the test showed Cancer.” Concern oozing through her voice.
“Of course it did Doc, did ya think it would show up Taurus?”
Pause…
She starts laughing cause she knows me a bit and she tells me It’s not a real big deal we just might have to “cut your balls off to arrest it.”
“Doc, you fucking with me? Never play around with a man’s balls Doc, unless it’s in the bedroom.”
“By the way what’s it called Doc?”
“It’s Thomaluecytyeyourfuckedatosis”
I know stupid question, for some reason I heard Julie Andrews singing “Supercalifragilous Expialidocious”
But she assures me “just take these pills and don’t get pregnant.”
“Whatever Doc”
Now I can’t go out in the Sun too much and I hope the chicks tomato plants don’t die cause of it.
So I go to the Kitchen, now I’m a muscular version of Martha Stewart, my obsessive nature is to clean cause my Brothers don’t do it. They insist on a cursory washing of the dishes despite that stainless steel thingy I bought back in the day when I had cash: called a dishwasher. I don’t have the heart to tell them when they turn their backs the shits right in the dishwasher. Now to appease them I put a nice clean towel on the “clean” counter where they can lay the washed soon to be washed again dishes. Right? Now I also wash stuff like large Tupperware and pots which I lay on the “Clean” towel to air dry.
Pretty simple concept, ya think? Nope, the “clean” towel is often host to my Brothers making pizzas on it, bottles of ketchup and pickles. Which, of course, defeats that whole clean towel thingy. I can’t say anything cause I’m an indigent, obsessive-compulsive, muscular, Martha Stewart wannabe with Cancer. But I want to scream, “Do you Fuckers make bologna sandwiches on your pillows? WHAT THE FUCK!”
Oh well, I’m about done with the outside work, repaired concrete steps, repaired fence, painted parts of the house, edged the lawn, fucked Mother Nature up and told the bitch to “back the fuck off! Poet is here now Mutha Fucker”
Gotta turn my attention to the inside of the house, what a fucking mess. The first ten times I cleaned the toilets I donned a Tyvek suit with live air. Well I am an Obsessive-Compulsive, muscular version of a Martha Stewart wanna-be, soon to be responsible for dehydrated tomato plants Poet with Cancer.
Whatever…
Love ~a pictorial~
Saturday, March 27th, 2010I got to be the last dude in the world to talk about love. Not sure what it is or what it ain’t. People say this demonstrates “love”. Birds are alleged to mate for life some people are impressed by that but given the fact their lifespan is about a year I’m not holding any parades. Shit, I was married to Gutter Trash for twenty years I guess that makes me fucking Romeo. Was gonna put some Poetic verse to it but decided to don my sarcasm cap instead.
Female Bird get nailed by a repuplican driving a Ferrai. She is hurt
She is immobile
The male bird brings her food
This is pretty touching. She is lying there helpless and the male bird brings her a pizza with xtra pep
Now it gets a little sad so I’ll forgo the sarcasm or maybe not
She is dead yet it looks like he is trying to move her.
Now it gets a little sad so I’ll forgo the sarcasm or maybe not
He seems upset
Here he looks really upset
Judge for yourself what’s going on here
I do not believe in imparting human emotions onto animal behavior, but lo can that be despair we see?
Resignation?
Okay is he bird sad? Where I got these pics the dude was all effusive over the love he says is demonstrated here. Well I have my journalist cap on and put the poet away, he is a real fag anyway, good riddance. Birds do not, can not feel love as defined by us, but maybe it is something deeper that would shame us all or maybe he flies away and looks for another mate. Forgetting she even existed, who can know the answer? I would love to interview the dude, as all my faithful readers know, I am fluent in several animal languages. You decide…
City in Shadow
Thursday, March 18th, 2010A city hides in shadow
I am
Wondering why I’m unconcerned as
Well manicured hands conduct heart attacks
and coax malignant cancers with polyphonic rage
Witches wearing beauty’s face
On pencil legs and stick figured arms
Coo lovely words behind sneering lips
In the hallway Insect feet chitter across tile floors
Clicking and hissing
Pausing
Clicking and hissing
Skeletal hands screech slowly down cobwebbed dusty windows
Accompanied by cowled mourning doves moaning dirges
Shadows echo down abandoned hallways
Blood drips slowly down the walls
Forming words that…
Sorcerers prepare
Giggling like schoolboys reading fuck magazines
Macabre whispers from manhole covers
Woo delighted children with ice cream and darkened carousel rides
Pulsing eerie light
Green as fresh death
The night is punctuated by screams
Drowning amid angry wind and studious ignoring
Everywhere
Forced smiles and the stench of fear
Souls are caged in skulls
Skulls are sewn into the bodies of torn heroes
Mounted on stakes
Eyelids and lips removed
Lidless eyes smile and stare perpetually at anyone
Who would challenge
A city in shadow
Hiding from itself
Lord of the Sky
Sunday, February 28th, 2010There he was
Cold and Dead
Eyes open
As if
Even in death
He would seek to pierce the veil
The unknowable
Oh brave soul!
Regal he was
As if he would Challenge the Gods themselves in combat
Proclaiming to the world even Death cannot dim my flame
Lying there
Once Lord of the air
Sultan of the sky
Arcing and dancing upon currents of divine magic
Yet
Soon to be swept up by Saracens – Cretins–
A forgotten carcass
Whose bones litter this forgettable world
They are Incapable of knowing the power you once wielded
A wick snuffed in its raging glory
A blossom ravaged by winter’s cold truth
Dying with embers flaring
In bitter rebellion you would scream
“I was Lord of the Air!”
if I be a true man
I would anoint you in precious oils
And cloth your death in simmering gold attire
Lead processions proclaiming
“The Lord of the Air has expired”
Wouldst now the sky be so barren?
Alas the world tumbles and the die rolls
Such is how precious hearts are stilled
Ignominy claims us all as her own
How heaven and hell dance
And demand cadence from its players
How the mighty
Are thus laid so low
Rot in the Street
Lord of the Sky
Is It is only I
Who would sing thy glory
When the reaper calls…
Who would speak such words for me?
The Vultures Sing
Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010The 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 Love. Her Poet. Her Warrior. ~A Susan/Oddpoet Collab~
Saturday, February 6th, 2010
On crisp parchment unfolded from within a weathered pouch
Delivered by an unknown horseman
His words came to her…
“Inamorata…
The darkness is complete
Through Hades lies
And Cerberus’s breath
I believe again we’ll meet…”
The visible tremble in his usually elegant cursive frightened her.…
“They
Say no man can escape his death
Yet
It’s what I seek to do
I’d travel
Long and troubled roads
to
lie again with you.”
Silently hot tears began to fall
They stung her cheeks
His words, now blurred through the saline and fire light
Grasping the paper he once touched ever tighter
She read the words of her love, her poet, her warrior…
“Beloved
The Stars are strange here
Their mocking light
Lending credence to the darkness
All
Manner of Demon spawn
Assault me
Whispering…
Taunting…
Telling me
You are a lie
That beauty such as yours
Does not exist”
She knew this day would come
The old woman had warned her
The prophecy she denied
It now beseeched her
“It’s as if
They seek to deny you
Have me disavow the
The fidelity of you
I cannot
Give lie
To the truth of you”
The fire in her hearth roared
Blazing with the pain in her heart
She fell to her knees
Shivering in fear, feeling her loss
Despite his determination
Doubt befell her
The witch was wise
The prophecy fulfilled
But yet, he still believed…in her.
“You are the waypath
The
Road
Back to the world
Where dappled Sunlight
weaves webs on flowing streams
Where caressing breeze
Orchestrates the dance of leaves”
Her heart trembled
The locks of golden hair softly flowing
across her shoulders reverberated with her pain.
Carrying the weight of each sob and gasp…
His love was unlike anything she had ever known
“I can no longer suffer this darkness
I seek the light
I seek you
I recall your image in my mind
Growing
Fusing unto itself
Exploding outward
Like a newly birthed Sun
I cast away the chains that would bind me here
Your image glows in the darkness
Laying the creatures low
And I walk
Determined
One step
Then another
Closer
Ever closer to you…”
She traced the last of his words with her finger…
“They call me the
Heretic”
“So
be
it.…..”
Fate had found her.
Her love, her poet was gone.
Falling away like the ink from the parchment
“So be it.…..” She uttered.
And then there was the dipping in the well…
A well of ink to fill the quill of her hurt and her pain.
Once she began, the words flowed for weeks and days.
As did her tears.
Her poet was gone.
“They
Say no man can escape his death…”
“So be it.…..” She cried.
She had never written a word of verse before that day.
She only mused the beauty of the others.
But she loved his the most.
And he knew it.
She was his muse.
He was inspired.
He would create.
“I seek the light
.…I seek you”
Under the gaze of her love
He had written lines laced with colorful complexities and meandering metaphors.
Twisted meanings like puzzles with unseen keys.
They made her think.
And she smiled with delight.
And the passionate ones, of love, were few and far between.
When they came they brought tears to her eyes and a smile to her lips.
But now, her poet was gone.
“All
Manner of Demon spawn
Assault me…”
“So be it.…..” She wept…
Then, in a morning’s mourning, she sat at his desk, alone.
Fingers traced the parchment of his choosing.
Crisp and clean.
Unlike the dusty and soiled parchment delivered in the horseman’s pouch.
“Beloved
The Stars are strange here…”
She closed her eyes and caressed her cheek with his brilliant white quill.
Oh, how she’d watched it dance in the evening’s fire light.
Night after night as he wrote she watched it sway in his strong hands.
Spinning tales and lines and magic before her eyes.
She admired his mind. And loved his soul.
But now, her poet was gone, and her days turned to night.
“Whispering…
Taunting…
Telling me
You are a lie”
“So be it.…..” She cursed.
Her nights were the days she wrote the most.
Line after line she found her voice.
She tried to purge her pain.
But it would not go away.
Again and again, there was the dipping in the well…
A well of ink to fill the quill of her hurt and her pain.
And she knew…
it was forever.
“I recall your image in my mind
Growing
Fusing unto itself
Exploding outward
Like a newly birthed Sun
I cast away the chains that would bind me here
Your image glows in the darkness
Laying the creatures low
And I walk
Determined
One step
Then another
Closer
Ever closer to you…”
“So be it.…..”
She closed the door.
Her poet was gone…
I climbed a tree
Thursday, February 4th, 2010I climbed a tree.
Thinking
I could see something
New
Something no one has ever seen.
Before
Scraped
Bleeding
Swaying
Precarious death
Peers through arched eyebrow
Non committal
Death don’t give a fuck
We all on his to do list.
I climbed a tree
And saw
The deadly same
The piercing wail of conformity
The heart rending cry
of the incomplete heart
I will get up
Tomorrow
And
Know
I will climb the tree.
What else can I do?
Massacre ~Para~
Tuesday, January 26th, 2010They 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
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