The writings of Oddpoet

I like shiny things, I'm very superficial.

She had the sweet­est smile
But eyes that seen too many dark places
And when she decided to play with the world
Her mind was sharp
Like a glis­ten­ing razor
Pulled out of Richard Speck’s pocket
Blood stained and thirsty
Scream­ing for vengeance
Always at that mill
Grind­ing
Hon­ing
whet­ting
Her hatred for this world

But it was the bro­ken clock she car­ried
Around her neck which
Hunched her back
Like Qua­si­modo
Like Atlas shoul­der­ing the bur­den of this world
It sprouted springs and gears
The tou­sled hair of some deranged Medusa
Waver­ing in mad rhythm to her tor­tured steps

But the wood was cared for
Pol­ished and shone
Not giv­ing reflec­tion
But absorb­ing all
A black hole
Where only night lived

She would smile and touch it con­stantly
it’s hands frozen
In ric­tus
The stiff­ened reach of a long dead God
The clock was per­pet­u­ally 9:47
It was when her love left the world
When her life creased to be
She said
Love would come back
And it would start tick­ing again
Oth­ers would laugh at her
And roll their eyes to the sky
Not I

She was far too young
To push a shop­ping cart
Filled with the tat­tered refuse
Of other people’s lives
of her own

Yet day in and day out
She rolled wear­ing
treads in the streets
Like a Roman legion off to some
Dis­tant con­quest.
Only she knew that destination

I do not see her any­more
No one ever cares
A pal­try few
Really care…
Per­chance
She found a new land
Where her eyes match her smile
Where life does not assault her so…

And
I hope
That clock starts tick­ing
Again…

Malt Shop Blues ~Bro­ken Word Piece~

There are so many suf­fo­cat­ing images
On the sec­ond story
That they jump for their lives
Like glo­ries on fire
Flam­ing the sky
With the back­drop clouds
To liven the enter­tain­ment
For eyes dry
And clouded over by judg­ment
And for the tries dimin­ished
At the wake of shrouds
Revealed.



Images that wit­ness their own death
Forced still­births
For the sake of held breath
And the mea­sur­ing of penis girth
Of mere babes
Sealed upon impact
To be mem­o­ries
Held tight as momen­tary fact
And glim­mer­ings of what could have been
Of what can­not defend itself
As real­ity…
Too late
Just another casu­alty
Of feel­ing black­ened
By the great pharaohs
Elated
Berated again.



They were
But can­not be proven
Again as uncer­tain
Cre­mated for blurt­ing the words
Into the vol­cano of the sun…
What was begun
Was heard
Then spun
Into a thou­sand shat­tered webs
Weep­ing
And keep­ing track­ing of each tear
Sleep­ing on the edge of the pil­low…
Each creep­ing sil­hou­ette
Dis­solves
Upon the light of day.



There’s noth­ing left wide open
And noth­ing left
With more to say or groom…
The will cuts the
Umbil­i­cal
As death screams silence
To echo
Within the pyramid’s tomb
As a bereft womb.



©Jen2010 2–5

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.

It was a rick­ety old thing…

The train that is…

Filled with busted dreams

And

Salty tears

And face­less people

Who no longer cared



There were not many there to see me off

Just a few…

They begged me not to leave

Where was I going

I had no idea

I was just going

Who can answer such questions

Their tears were touching

As If they knew

I was never com­ing back



Take directions

No point in that

I never fol­low them

Go right

I go left

Besides

No mat­ter which way you go

You always arrive at your des­ti­na­tion



Look­ing back

I won­der if I had a choice

If I could have changed anything

Might as well try to change

The color of your eyes

The way you laugh

Or

Will the rain away



I arrived

It was a cold place

The Sun sel­dom shone here

Twi­light the best you could hope for

There were no flowers

Just twisted green things

Reach­ing out

Towards an invis­i­ble savior

In that struggle

They were beau­ti­ful



There is much beauty here

A daunt­ing will to survive

Which per­me­ates all life



A dour moon

Which paint all in glim­mer­ing ice crys­tals



An inces­sant breeze

That orches­trates

A heartrend­ing dance



A Landscape

Hewed from Earth’s tired bones

Stabs out at the night

Pro­claim­ing In painful epitaph

“I am Alive“



But here…

There be Demons

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

I sud­denly became aware I was
Dis­tinct
Sep­a­rate
Alive
Cov­ered in blood
Won­der­ing
What it was
This
Thing
Called life
I heard the cries of aborted fetuses
Seek­ing repen­tance
Seek­ing abso­lu­tion
For imag­ined crimes.
Their sin
Incon­ve­nience
There wails drowned
Muted and masked
By heavy machin­ery
Oper­ated by manic thought police
Dressed as sailors
Car­ry­ing hypo­der­mics
Filled with mind fuck

I was to be the trained seal
In the cir­cus of garbage
They didn’t know
I was bro­ken, incom­plete
I escaped to
The night­mare of the real

It was not really reality

Nor was it Lies
It was a hal­cyon era of apple scented mad­ness
Laced with truss rods of greased despair

Blind­folded visions of genet­i­cally altered cir­cus midgets
Play­ing mime to blind audiences

Painted vir­gins with jism stained dol­lar bills
Rolled, shaken
And stirred
Inserted Into for sale orifices

The screams of sev­ered heads plead­ing for body complete

Mutated Pheas­ants armed with auto­mat­ics
Butt fuck­ing hunters who scream why?

The dead become annoyed
Seek­ing eter­nal rest
Screech­ing alarm clocks
Awaken them
As the sadis­tic Gods laugh

Pissed off Zom­bies cry­ing “Brains”
Can’t find any

Bankers molest­ing children

Lawyers blow­ing bankers

Politi­cians laugh a creak­ing rusty hinged sound

Sight­less lovers seek­ing ful­fill­ment
Feel­ing only whores and lies

Mir­rors offer no com­fort
That swirling mist of promised magic
Merely con­firmed who we are not

Truth that cheap FILTHY WHORE

Screams orgas­mic shouts and moans
Body quiv­er­ing
Pre­tend­ing
She is not a will­ing sac­ri­fice at the altar of con­ve­nience
The vic­tim of lie’s ser­pent tongued promises?

Engulfed in an ill-fitted black robe of the lonely heart

They are all out of solace

Tears always pave the path to surrender

Emo­tions seethe and boil

Crit­i­cal mass reached.

I no longer sleep in a bed.
Beds are for faggots

There can be no com­fort here

I roll on the floor
At home with roaches and the denizens of the night

Leath­ery wings Play ser­rated whip saw sounds

Only I can hear

The sounds of bare survival

They laugh at joy

Chit­ter­ing know­ing words

They speak
Whispering

“You do not belong
You never did”

Yet they call me back
“YOU WILL JOIN US!”

The sound of cocked pis­tols
And lawyer lies
Con­gealed like Hye­nas
Bark­ing on an asphalt park­ing lot

Baby’s heads greas­ing the treads of wheeled deceit

Yet their vam­pire smiles
No longer frighten me

“YOU WILL JOIN US!”
The Zom­bie choir sings
Feign­ing Mozart

They do not suf­fer alien­ation
The law of lies and mad­ness will pre­vail
No sanc­ti­fi­ca­tion
No abso­lu­tion
I ignore them all
Mere tune­less wind chimes
Play­ing dis­cor­dant exis­ten­tial sounds of phony despair

Death knocks at my door
He claims us all as his own
He drips drool like Pavlov’s dog

I smile
I have been seek­ing you Death
Your lies stink
How can you claim one
Who has never lived?

His steps fal­ter
His sickle
Becomes
A broom
And I charge him to sweep the pain from this World

The though police
Cap­tured me
Finally

Kafka was the judge and jury
I was con­victed
Of seek­ing mean­ing in the meaningless

“Don’t you know?” he laughed
“Life is just a hal­cyon era of apple scented madness”

The devil wind blew through town
All cool and shit like a Sina­tra tune
Snap­ping fin­gers and jazz ass jive
Sat­ur­na­lia wild­ness on the street
Peo­ple want­ing their share
Of the cool
Of smooth moves
Of three car garages
And tro­phy wives



Drunken women
With too much makeup
Who laugh too hard
And too easy
Forc­ing swollen feet
Into glass slip­pers
Need­ing the hum
Of elec­tric Princes
Amped
Promis­ing king­doms of plated fool’s gold



Every­one felt that cool breeze
The fools became wise
Spew­ing half remem­bered lies



The cig­a­rette smoke haze played like heav­enly mist.
We all pre­tended our lives were real
We danced in that clouds of nico­tine
To the syn­co­pated beat of Devil Wind induced mad­ness.



For some
There was no pas­sion in the script
We couldn’t pre­tend any­more



The band never gave up pre­tend­ing.
Throw­ing trills our way.
Wear­ing shades in the dead of night
Always laugh­ing at the joke we never got.



Our fake smiles hurt our faces



It was the plague
Dis­guised as cool
Death masked as glory
The chill of the grave
We began to die



Musi­cians were the first to go
We had lit­tle time left
We wanted to dance
The plague was upon us
We wanted to suck the mar­row
Out of Life’s bones.
But there was no one left to play



The Devil Wind blew through town
And man it was cold…