The writings of Oddpoet

Poetry that bleeds, screams and never sleeps

My bed is call­ing my name
In var­i­ous lan­guages
Visual delights of soft­ness
Accost my ears
And flesh
Bit­ing the sights of sup­ple wonder

I am tired

I am lost in the promise
Of can­dle­light flames
Danc­ing across vehe­ment intru­sion
Behind my eyes
Burn­ing away reluc­tance
The lack of accep­tance
For here
I dream freely

Satin sheets
Wrap warmth about the room
Singing songs
To stop time
For all eter­nity
The air is sweet
As sweet as the dew
Licked from heav­enly sleep­ing bodies

Shal­low breath
Stirs rhyme with its rhythm
Echoes through golden cor­ri­dors of sleep
Per­fect cham­bers embrace
The petals scat­tered softly
At my feet
I step on none
In my ascent into the paradox

Light breezes soothe
Yet né’er to cap­ture atten­tion
Only a mere wisp
Of chest­nut locks fallen across the eye
Of yearn­ing
Can cause dis­tur­bance
Dis­rupt the glance into forever

I beg of dreams
To find me
Plead at the feet of wan­der­ing
To turn back
And brush petals across my lips
To tem­per the alarm

I lie silent

©Jen2010 6–27

I’m sick of it all
Flow­ery verse
Cheap prose
Shal­low mean­der­ings
Play­ing with my cock
Blow­ing loads on paper
Say­ing Van Gogh was here
It all runs together
Like mag­goty meat in the trough
Feed­ing the mass man­nequin market

I’m the Poet
With my head up my ass
Exam­in­ing
My colon
My intestines
Report­ing to the world
Some­thing
Ain’t quite right in me ville

I need poetry that bleeds
That makes me uncom­fort­able
That has an edge
That cuts me
If I get too close

Poetry
That grabs me by the throat
And tells me
YOU GONNA DIE MOTHER FUCKER!

Dan­ger­ous poetry
Poetry that guts me
That is banned in schools
Poetry you can’t read
In polite com­pany
Poetry that gets me arrested
Sent to prison
That will rape me with broom han­dles
Flay my skin
Till there there is noth­ing
But the words

Poetry that rages
Assaults me
Rips the pil­low out of my hand
That drags me from under the bed
That tells me
YOU CAN’T HIDE MOTHER FUCKER

Poetry that speaks of love
Not in rhymed cou­plets
Nor wist­ful sighs
But shakes the fab­ric of time
Shat­ters the foun­da­tion of the Earth
Causes the Plan­ets
To break free of their orbit
Stops the heart
With its pain and loss
Poetry that changes me for­ever
That allows me to finally live
If only for a second

I need poetry
That I can’t read
But only feel
Ink inter­min­gled
With blood
With tears
With shit and piss
With sweat
That vibrates off the page
And becomes the North Star

I need Poetry that bleeds
I need Poetry
That
Fuck­ing
Bleeds

Her blood screamed con­trast to the pol­ished white porce­lain
Beg­ging for mean­ing
As it swirled and sloshed
And descended down to where?
If that all that is left to me?
Diluted blood on some incom­pre­hen­si­ble jour­ney
with the faint piqué of Lifebuoy sting­ing my senses

They killed her
Stabbed her with lying knifes
Shot her dead with scented can­dles
Fried her brain in love potions
Flayed her skin with fla­grant promises
Buried her in mag­gots and puke larvae

They believe they know me

Can you know the stopped heart?
I have no need for power ties
Nor is my smile painted
Like a per­for­mance piece for a 3% wage increase
I have no use for laugh­ter
I am the shadow that dis­qui­ets their dreams

They can never com­pre­hend
That I DON’T NEED

I am invis­i­ble in the light
Yet blaze like painted pain in moonlight’s caress

I will fuck their God
And bring down heaven
I will blot the Sun
And rape angels with the devil’s cock

I am mad­ness
And I’m coming…

She stands alone
For­lorn and aban­doned
A dust gath­er­ing trin­ket
Peep­ing between Timmy’s Cum Lade Grad­u­a­tion Tas­sels
And a faded yel­low pic­ture of Grandma
Back when she had teeth
They talk from time to time
Some­thing about failed mem­ory
And aban­doned dreams



Mostly she walks alone
Trav­el­ing along dusty Mahogany shelves
Over torn doilies
Past the cir­cus ele­phant with the bro­ken trunk
With the mute girl fused to the tableau
Lone­li­ness opens her mouth and spoke
The ele­phant never answered
All he did was cry
Over what
No one could say



She decide to visit her friend
The beer stein from Heisen­berg
He stood all proud despite the bro­ken han­dle
And the chipped and faded col­ors
Of his once regal cloak



Oh the sto­ries he could tell
Of par­ties and cel­e­bra­tions
Of weekly dust­ings and lemon scented wood pol­ishes
Of pride, promi­nence and won­der
She left him to his mem­o­ries



Dap­pled sun­light danced along the worn sur­faces
Orches­trat­ing the play of shad­ows
Upon that stage the heartrend­ing scene played
The pageant of the lonely and the aban­doned



Just the other day
Dar­nell the Dol­phin from Sea World fell
And lay bro­ken on the floor for days
His cries of pain ignored
Finally swept up with a mum­bled curse
And deposited into the yel­low plas­tic grave­yard
The place too many of her bro­ken friends have gone



She retook her place on the shelf
And her coun­te­nance froze one again into form
And dreamed of a bet­ter tomor­row…



She dreamed…

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…

Paltry things
Mere wisps
Ten­ta­tive ten­drils
A swirling mist
Of half remem­bered lies …

Truth has a harder edge
No mis­taken its cut
Deep.
Blood flows mer­ci­fully clean,
A flow that beats in rhythm to the heart
Always the mas­ter.
Pound…pound… pound­ing…
Despite the souls pain.

A rich dichotomy
Con­tra­dic­tion a relief
More days behind
Then ahead.

Embrace the sun­set
The dark of the moon­less night
Casts no shadows.

Light hides.
Till morn­ing cries

“Release me from these false binds!”

A soft wind caress the som­nam­bu­lant trees

The sky cries a gen­tle rain.

Wash­ing clean false dreams.

I remember…

When my dreams were real

Green screens of manip­u­lated magic

Oh, the worlds I conceived

And the friends I made…



Mostly gone now

The col­ors are no more

Black and white

Filled with sharp edges

And harsh creatures

I will not name



I still till that soil

Though rock strewed

Com­pacted with cloy­ing clumps of clay

And the Sun don’t shine there much



But I still work the plow

And plant the seeds

I can have a shade garden

And the plants still talk to me

Though no longer with won­der and a child’s eyes



Sto­ries of rebellion

And sur­vival

And…



Fight­ing Drag­ons has become a full time job

So many Drag­ons to slay…



The world plucks out our eyes

And replaces them

With the lat­est Log­itech Web Cam

Com­plete with upgrade­able Microsoft  phototechnics

Ya  gotta upgrade

Just wouldn’t be right oth­er­wise



There is still magic

Though muted

And harder to wield



There must always be magic