The writings of Oddpoet

Poetry that bleeds, screams and never sleeps

An old friend of mine Moon­dreamer finally con­sented to throw some words down here. He is what I call a real pansy ass. Rest assured he would laugh at that char­ac­ter­i­za­tion and call me an Attila the Hun wanna be. Oh well, here is Pansy ass’s con­tri­bu­tion.



Would you drink from this plain chal­ice I offer?
Nei­ther jewel encrusted
Nor lay­ered in pre­cious metal
Did not Guin­e­vere taste from it?
Arwen?
I do not come as men­di­cant
I come as one who would know you

Would you drink?
Would you know me?
Peel the lay­ers
Of false­ness
Into my heart?

I wish to taste you
Savor your essence
This world can no longer con­tain my hunger
My desire
My will

One night
While the Gods sleep
And the world sus­pends it’s tor­tu­ous path
Yet can it be?
Can the uni­verse sus­tain such passion?

Yet One night…
One night…
I would stop the stars
Still the beat­ing of false heart
Cause song­birds to rise as one
And sing a sym­phony
That com­pels the world
To lis­ten…
Pro­claim to the world.
That beauty’s heart still beats
In you

JUST ONE NIGHT!
I would lay prone
And take the pain
That bathes you
And the par­ti­cles that define us
Will rearrange
Differently

Would you have me stand out­side your closed door?
Locked against the bore­dom of this world?
Yet
It can­not be
This world does not reward a true heart
And…



The stars will weep
Their light less bright
This world will stop
And feel an emptiness

And the songs of this world



Will sigh…

Can you hear her?

Beauty abused
Love unrequited

Her quill dipped in pas­sion fire
Lilt­ing
Set­ting the world in flames
Brighter than day
Darker than the silent moon

Paper can not con­tain her words
They cry and immo­late
And ask why?

Black­ened ash screams across the cry­ing breeze
her words froth­ing on a beach of grav­i­ta­tional singularity

Paint­ing for­lorn beauty
The cir­cle seek­ing com­ple­tion with elu­sive Tangent.

Know!

I will be there
In the dark­ness of your night
When all is gone

Rea­son abandoned

The wind …

Will always whis­per her name

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

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 see your hid­den tears

Wrapped up in inner confusion.

I see your dreams and fears

Awash

Aban­doned

Amid the cheer of illusion.

Life assaults you

Yet, you fight

So pre­cious you are

Filled with all in which I delight

In you I find the light

That casts away the darkness

You still the pain

I

Always feel.

The joy…

I need.

You are the crys­tal­lized snowflake

The chill of a win­ter dawn.

The sooth­ing caress of sunlight

You heal this soul Oh so torn.

You are the unan­swered phone call

The silence that greets my cries

Oh unre­lent­ing sadness

Yet I try..

And try.

You are all…

all
I need

My scream painted sin

Across the sum­mer sky

The world

Wob­bled on its axis

Paused

Held its breath



The trees trembled

Sam­son knelt before me

And pre­pared to die

“Scarred Man” he began

His lips quivering

“They came in the night”

“The Cho­rus and I drew sword”

“”She bade us hold”

“And left with them”

His hands twisted in rage and shame

Yes

He would die for her



I let him live

My breaths came in ragged gasps

Her voice

Sud­denly

Came to me

As it had for three years now

And my eyes squeezed

In vain

To stem the tears

That washed my scarred face



She was alive!

I moved to my horse

Sam­son and other mem­bers of the Chorus

Eyes gleamed

And fol­lowed

Their blood lust

Pal­pa­ble

I winced



Men who

Once coaxed

Beauty

And Life

From Dirt

Would become

What I have always been

The enemy had much

To answer for.



“Samson”

“Dou­ble the guard”

“And pre­pare to move”

It was as if I struck him

“But…”

I never gave orders twice



My horse wheeled

As I method­i­cally approached the castle

My body was strewed with arrows

I couldn’t die

Until she told me

I could

The berserker was upon me

My sword screamed

And Sang

In the key of rage.

My blade glowed incandescent

Its white fire

Unquench­able

Blood hissed and splattered

My hated essence blazed



Who would dare touch her?

Those who stood before me

Died

The rest fled



Three witch word singers

Hurled arcane verse

At me

Just before there heads

Came to rest on the floor



I stormed the room that I knew held her

Five men died

Quickly

There

She was

The Last Poet and a Word Mage

Were engaged

In eldritch incantations

Her hands were bound

Imped­ing her

From verse flow



He was not

Nor could he ever

Be

A match for her

I almost laughed.

But decided to kill him

Instead



The Word Mage eye’s widened

Hurled

Death verse at me

His words crum­bled and howled

In use­less fury

“I am already dead fool”

I flung the Word Mage out the window

And watched

As his body tumbled

Curs­ing

That I could not hurt him

More.



I gath­ered her in my arms

“You know

You really have to stop doing that”

She curled up in my arms

And the world was

Once again

Tol­er­a­ble

Hope

Was

Alive



A bird sang

Blinded by tears

And mem­ory

I stum­ble

Over

Dead bod­ies



The Sun

Beg­ging forgiveness

Envelopes

Me

And tries

To warm

This cold soul



Bro­ken children

Arms and legs

Spread

At impos­si­ble angles.

Stab at my heart



The scent of lilac

Com­petes

With the decay of flesh

Always scream­ing

In mute agony



The world is not a kind place

It cares little

But for

Sun­rises

Sun­sets

Ticks of an

Unfor­giv­ing clock



Amid the rubble

Of our col­lec­tive sins

I found her

She smiled

And broke the heart

I though I no longer

Had



I would never kneel before any God

But I knelt before her

She was the last Poet

The faint hope

Of a dying race



With an innocence

That broke my heart

She said

“You are the scarred man”

You are here to die for me?”



Words

Had long since left me

I shoul­dered my pack

And began the journey

To

The long and dark

Lonely road



She clutched my hand

I fought off

The momen­tary revulsion

I for­got the touch

Of another

Human being

“It’s alright”

“Are we not friends?”

Her know­ing smile

Belied her youth



We walked

In silence

“You know”

“You don’t have to die”

I didn’t answer

I was already dead



I scanned the landscape

For

Ene­mies

The howl­ing of wolfs

Sang

With heart rending

Lone­li­ness.

“Such a sad song they sing”

I gripped

The unfa­mil­iar touch

Tighter

I met her.
A woman with a child’s eyes
Filled with won­der and questions.

She danced through the snow
Cold could not touch her.
Her heart burn­ing pas­sion.
Her soul a prism
Where she shaped dreams.

Oth­ers fal­tered.
Her steps were ordained.
A child of Apollo.
She was her own Muse.

She spoke to the world
In a lan­guage
That caused won­der.
Armed only with quill and ink
She changed worlds
Shaped hearts
Made tears obsolete.

Her words were like songs
Indeli­ble
Unfor­get­table.
They vibrated in time to a uni­ver­sal clock
Tick­ing truth and beauty.

Poetry was her art
Her pas­sion
The altar where she shed
Her life’s pain.

All were amazed.

But no one saw the sad girl
Behind the beauty
The words…

She was a child of Apollo.
Her steps were ordained.

Sleep free my lady
Let thy trou­bled brow
Sooth in safe dream

Let the pranc­ing cloud hoofs
Of child­ish toys
Bring smile
And joy
And bend your lips
In too unfa­mil­iar ways

Let not men­da­cious lovers
Assault thee
Nor
The love­less toil
Of fruit­less search­ing
Scar your beauty

I know your heart

I shall never allow you to shed false tear
No water shall
Ever stain your visage

Again

My lady I love thee from afar
Can there be truer love?
More Forthright?

With­out need for self per­ceived advan­tage
Like an onion seller in the mar­ket
Lay­ing digit on scale
To improve the weight of purse?

I seek no recompense

Just

Tonight

You sleep free

Tonight

I will guard your dreams.