The writings of Oddpoet

Poetry that bleeds, screams and never sleeps

Hover­ing amid storm clouds
A bas­tion of bro­ken Earth and end­less sky
Moats armed with night­mares
And a child’s bro­ken cry
Eter­nal light­ning flash­ing
Stac­cato rev­e­la­tions in bas-relief
Waves of dark­ness crash­ing
Cloak­ing all in disbelief

A ter­ri­ble bat­tles wages
Between right and what is wrong
Ema­ci­ated haloed min­strels
Seek­ing power for their song

Demonic war­riors in night black armor
Evil swords in black­ened hand
A Pal­adin on a golden Char­iot
Scarred and tor­tured
engaged in his last stand

Death strug­gles
Swords whirling and whin­ing Thanatos’s refrain
On this Island
In this time
Reveals an ancient pain

On this Island
Through the misty veil of time
One lone Pal­adin on a golden char­iot
Alone in epic strug­gle
Pay­ing eter­nally for his crime

A sin­gle tear is shed
Vapor­ized by con­sum­mate fire
For­got­ten water for the dead

Sirens sing the song of death
While rental cops lay cones down
Restrict­ing traf­fic



They have come for me.



I am the Poet
The truth
My words are carved in the flesh of inno­cence
Scrawled in cheap uri­nals
Chis­eled in the faded gray paint of shit holes
Of lonely tomor­rows
I dry the tears of the hope­less
Scream with the home­less
I sing truth that hum­bles Gods
I am Prometheus, Sisy­phus



I cut the throat of pompous laugh­ter
And kill its first born
I eat the soul of dread­ful nor­malcy
I walk the edge and con­versed with mad­men
My words rever­ber­ate in trash strewed alleys
My tread echoed in the halls of jails and men­tal insti­tu­tions
Shared secrets with bro­ken soul­less junkies



I am truths
That freeze men’s souls
And the lies they swear by
The burn­ing blade cut­ting teth­ered souls
Illu­mi­nat­ing light­en­ing



I am the Devi­ate fondling sacred sex­u­al­ity
The ser­ial killer cov­ered in Blood
Suck­ing life from vic­tims
With last breath curs­ing God
Whim­per­ing
“Why me?”



I am the throne­less king
The voice­less trou­ba­dour
The song no one will sing
I am the invis­i­ble chill
That fon­dles your spine
I am dis­com­fort
The night­mare
The book no one will read
I am words no want wants to hear
I am …

Bubbles…

How your per­fec­tion mocks me

Float­ing on gen­tle current

Adher­ing to immutable laws

As king­doms of men rot in dusty tombs

Ratios and pro­por­tions established

Before the Pharaohs were young

Before the ances­tors of man walked upright

Uncon­cerned with the triv­i­al­i­ties of the world

As kin­folk pop and burst upon the lilac scented air

Do you know the mys­ter­ies you carry?

Do you pon­der your mortality?

Ques­tion your purpose?

Can you plumb the depths of this world?

Pierce the shad­ows that claim the light?

See inside a woman’s heart?

Give mean­ing to the mad­ness I see?

I am flawed

A con­ver­gence of nucleic acids

Coded by uncar­ing mad­men at the the­ater of the absurd

I am the upside of the die

The tum­bling leaf tossed to and fro

by uncar­ing breeze

The spin­ning wheel whose destination

Yet deter­mined

You care lit­tle for the truths that drifts beside you

That affirm you

Spher­i­cal truths of an omnipo­tent God

Who taunts me

Bub­bles…

Only Bub­bles

Will… the night…

Hide you?

Or

Reveal you?

For who you are



Will you always hide

In shad­ows?

Alone



A slith­er­ing hematologist

Lay­ing belly to sand?

Wouldst you deny truth?

Are you the apple that rises

When dropped to the floor?

The Tear

That climbs?

The bro­ken toy

Cry­ing for mend­ing?



Nay

You are none of that.

Yet you play your life

Like a trick shot in a cheap par­lor game

A used tis­sue in a coughs for­got­ten dream



You shine…



The night retreats

When you arrive.

Find your Dawn…

Lady…

Screams

Demonic

Drown­ing out heav­enly choir.

Cherubs

Laugh­ing

Crea­tures of despair

Singing



Armed only with smirk and pain.

I sit and wait

I already know my fate

My guardian whis­pers in ter­ri­fied pleading

“It’s not too late”



Seek­ing comfort

I com­fort.

Want­ing relief

I relieve

Need­ing some­one to catch my tears

I find I can no longer cry.

“Go! And sal­vage the salvageable”

Its screams sucked down by Newton’s insight



At the Crossroads

No color

Bat­tle­ship grey

Tis a place

No one need be



I am no longer

A Man

But a cor­us­cat­ing sem­blance of

For­got­ten dreams

Trans­par­ent

My essence

Dis­played

Like a cheap dime store man­nequin



One approaches

Glides

Not deign­ing to step

Another

Flut­ters down from angry heaven

Two crea­tures of absolute

Good

Evil

They Vie

“Take my path” they cry

Why?



Mozart and Wagner

Hess and

Cer­vantes

Approach

Enter

The debate

Cer­vantes speaks

“Take nei­ther left nor right!”

“Heed Don Quixote’s quest”

“Fight the windmill.”

“There will you find”

“Heart and soul’s true test.”



I cannot

Smile

Wince is all

I can

Do

At the Crossroads

A myr­iad of paths

Good and Evil

Cry col­lec­tive disbelief

As they merge and blend into

Log­i­cal incon­sis­tency



Pock marked Mozart

Catches my sight­less eye

“Only through music”

“Can”

“The heart be sung.”



I

Try

To dust off the pain

But it is alloyed

Fused with my heart

I stand

Know­ing my last act

Will be

Defi­ance

But

One last song

I need to

sing

I’ve been forged in the white hot heat of pas­sion
I’ve been annealed and tem­pered in the fur­nace of Despair
I’ve been honed and sharp­ened by teacher Pain
I’ve spent time amid the home­less
And writ­ten poems with the insane



I am the cylin­der that mis­fired
Pointed at my head
I am the bro­ken rope
Wealed and con­gealed
Upon my throat
Even Death rejects me



I am the scarred man
The imper­fect crea­ture
Fun­nels run down my cheeks
Home for famil­iar tears



While you are edg­ing your lawn this week­end
And putting down the weed and feed
Know we are out there



Watch­ing…
Wait­ing…
Feel­ing
Cry­ing…
Know­ing…
Liv­ing…
Dying…



We are the imper­fect Crea­tures
God’s aban­doned Chil­dren
And we are everywhere

Sitting here

smok­ing filters

feel­ing disconnected

And…

Find myself on a

city street walking

feel­ing my age

won­der­ing when the color went out of the world

where all the magic went

Met this junk yard dog

our eyes met

and we both agreed

we were all pretty much

Fucked

He told me

Gold­man Sachs and Citibank

are a pri­or­ity for the flu vaccine

I told him

uni­ver­sal health care

will never be passed

we both agreed

we were all pretty much

Fucked

I said if food deliv­er­ies to markets

stopped for 30 days

we’d all be cannibals

he said

the home­less

will soon out­num­ber the sheltered

we both agreed

we were pretty much

Fucked

He said

vio­lence, ter­ror, injustice

are accepted

expected

nor­mal

I told him

a man is now judged

by what he has

Not

what he holds in his heart

We both agreed we were all pretty much

Fucked

A man came out of a shack

mid­dle aged

an air

of morose bitterness

of too many

unful­filled yesterdays

walked towards us

and kicked the junk yard dog

“Get off your ass and look mean you mangy mutt”

“what am I feed­ing you for?”

the junk yard dog

winced

wagged his tail

and looked at the man lovingly

The man eyed me suspiciously”

“What your selling”

“we ain’t buying”

and walked just out of view

The junk yard dog looked at me sheepishly

“He don’t mean it

I know he loves me”

The junk yard dog

his ribs show­ing through his

unkempt coat

walked away

a bro­ken growl

sound­ing more like a moan

painted the sky slate gray

I walked away…

in search of the miss­ing Sun