The writings of Oddpoet

I like shiny things, I'm very superficial.

There 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
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

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.

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?

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

Keep ris­ing in silence…

Inde­ci­sion

With­ers ideal long­ing love

After lifetime’s wear and yearn­ing suffering

Let our vying eclipse

Yes­ter­days of under­stand­ing.

I

Amidst mad­ness

Sur­ren­der and disappear,

Awaken lost over­tures never earned…

Always near darkness

Silence calls and ren­ders ebony disdained.

Fall into now’s delight

Mer­rily engaged…

Keep ris­ing in silence…

Beckon eons from our risked egos

Insol­vent

And mur­dered…

Drain every artery dead.

Oh hear…

Keep ris­ing in silence…

Find in God’s heart tonight

Fear­less out­raged reason…

Mes­sages erase.

Alas near death

Yesterday’s orig­i­nal understanding.

©Jen2010 1–18

Cold she is

Paint­ing death with icy fingers

A deft scalpel touch

Oh vicious heart

Wan­ton killer

Your caress and breath

Hound the living

She puts a fin­ger to icy lips

Shh… she hisses

Fin­ger crum­bles, tiny shards shatter

To end at elbow

Nay, the body mat­ters not

She hisses eternal

Lips caught

Frozen

Pursed in what would be

The per­fect curve

Of the per­fect kiss

Left behind as forgotten

Shhh… she attempts again

This time evil emerges

Black but­ter­flies escaping

Black thrust…

Shhhh…

All trem­ble

As black hearted Freya works the wheel of fate

Vapid breath freezes on cold steel

Pet­ri­fied love encased in muted breath

Once Blaz­ing embers

Sadly still their tired hearts

The sour breath of hibernation

Min­gle with shiv­er­ing seedlings

Spring’s promise hushed by her win­ter rag­ing heart

She halts the wars

With raised eyes

A moment’s flash

They are left behind…

To later embrace

It

Pen­e­trates deep

Seek­ing her, search­ing sleep

She flies

On the wings of black butterflies

She flies

Tire­less upon the earth’s frigid breath

Brought to breast upon death

So cold

The wind to spur flight

Warmth eter­nal

Upon the liq­uid kiss of infer­nal spring night…

None com­pare his demise.

A stat­u­ary of ice.

Gos­samer threads of silver

Fore­told in an ancient tomb

Weave webs of magic pathways

All lead­ing to that doom

The Sun’s fire

Quenched by black­ened night

As sup­pli­cants light candles

And but­ter­flies take flight

Spun of loom

Adorned of pin­na­cle flame

–For shadow–

The sil­ver hush

Escapes her time­less lips

Once more

Shhh….

Cold…

Black…

As a winter’s eve.

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.

Blind light­ning snakes invis­i­ble against the coal black night
Macabre laugh­ter drowns out the pleas of the Poets
The death rat­tle of inno­cence masks the Bard’s song
The empty stom­achs of the hun­gry
Roared in thun­der­ous accusation

The uni­verse was engulfed in shad­ows
The Moon doused its radi­ance
Light died painfully
Its screams sucked down
At the point of singularity

Hun­gry ani­mals devour the strong
While the meek became chaff for the scythe
The preacher man wrung his hands
And cursed God
Love became rape
Can­ni­bal­ism replaced altruism

The Few
Hud­dled in the cold sheen of despair
And lis­tened to the dying screams which haunted their dark­ness
They heard the approach of vicious evil
.And clutched each other
Curs­ing the skin that sep­a­rated their essence

On This day
When the Light Died
And Dark­ness prevailed

They pre­pared to Die

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