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?

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…

Death sil­hou­ettes

Dance melan­choly minuets

Accrued dust scatters

Face­less vio­lins sigh

Mourn­ers do not bother to take up the chant

Smooth­ing wrin­kled skirts and check­ing fin­ger­nail length

Bored and dis­tracted with parched eyes inca­pable of tears

Sounds wither and die

Vibra­tions stilled and uncaring

Set­tle in for the long sleep

Wind becomes breeze and breeze…

Lies motion­less upon the mound

It’s cold’s time

Calm­ing the whine of mean­ing and loss

Thoughts crum­ble and descend upon the sleep­ing earth

Lying beside por­tent shards of strange magik

It all goes away

Whirling down sweet silence

Leave me alone

Don’t wake me…

The end rests
Lan­guid and del­i­cate
A sin­gle dan­de­lion seed
Estranged from the puff
Blown by rebel­lion
Or per­haps just nature’s course
To impreg­nate the ground
With more sun­shiny weeds



The end
It rests on my fer­tile mind
I cry for the clouds to unleash
A tor­ren­tial wrath
Imbed the seed to grow roots
But my mind remains arid
The wind stirs lightly
The dan­de­lion seed rests
Lan­guid and del­i­cate



Moments fused with hours
And time crashed
Against the shore of sen­tience
Vague­ness flashes
Thoughts whirl
Run away
Laugh­ing
Chal­leng­ing
The mote in God’s eye



The begin­ning…
I became…
Chaos fled
Fused Tachyons
Blazed
Scream­ing through the newly birthed light
I become many things
A par­ti­cle in the pri­mor­dial soup
A sin­gle cell
Need­ing mem­ory
To fill the void
Fus­ing
While incom­ple­tion raged
Become…Become…
The voice insis­tent
Demand­ing
Pulling pain
Out of beau­ties ori­fices



The end drained
The pla­centa of birth
Claw­ing for release
Upon the pure sands
Untouched by mankind
Fer­tile soil washed away
From neces­sity
Unnat­ural in the wail­ing cry
To be…
Accepted into the region
Unfit for any king or queen



Weeds grew
Bold and erect
Sup­ping upon the light
And dew as sweat upon the brow
Nature grew unpromised
And auda­cious in peel­ing the lids
From eyes refus­ing to see
The puff–
Blood­ied and alive–
There beyond obsti­nacy
In the face
Of time
In all its abhor­rence…



Then…
The music appeared
At first shy and unsteady
Yet insis­tent…
Demand­ing all take part
All share the essence of their being
Unique instru­ments… unique voices
In that choir all liv­ing things took their places
Like notes fused to alabaster parch­ment



The seed which was now more than a seed
More than what it ever could be
On its own moved to a strange grandeur
A feel­ing, a cer­tainty
That it was eter­nal
That its voice was needed
In that con­stel­la­tion of sound



The music would not stop
Could not stop
It held all things to its cadence

The music played…
And all life danced and swayed
To its rhythm



And it was…



Beau­ti­ful…

She holds all in dis­dain
Cold and shin­ing
So hard
like steel
Like ice
Unable to dim



The light she has become
Fixed upon the cold black night
She owns the can­vas



The Night



She shuns the stars
Untouch­able she is
And the stars weep
Ice crys­tals
That shines their pain



Her pain



I’m in love with the moon
Though my arms can not
Reach that far
Can not touch
Her
Strain as I might



Regal she is
Don­ning that lonely robe



She shines



Alone

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?

My face is blis­tered by the demands

The sug­ges­tions to free

Cut and cauterized–

They’ve hurt me.

Have you not heard me pleading

For the release of all that caresses?

His release.

Have you not heard me beg­ging to the presses

All these years?

I’ve done what was asked

Walked across acres upon acres of shards of glass

Passed razors through the maze of my soul

Dis­sected my heart with a mon­o­cle mirror

And I’m whole

I’ve for­given my fingers

And I’m whole…



But his release–

His release demands of my mind’s eye

His suf­fer­ing rakes the embers of my need

To sus­tain my high

Blis­tered and scarred

Ris­ing to an inferno I can’t disregard

And my fin­gers beseech thee

As my con­science screeches to me daily

Release him

Just release him so my sight can see

He lives with­out me

Sat­is­fac­to­rily

Allow me to wit­ness him serene

In the wild

Liv­ing out his most desired dream

And he will be filed under case closed.

I’ve done what was asked

I’ve inhaled the rose

And suf­fered each thorn as it passed

Licked the morn­ing dew from your boots

Uprooted roots I thought would never be free

And rotated eye­balls to view within

The bloody inter­nal mas­sacre of sin and debris…

I guess I just don’t know what you want from me



But you know what I want from you

Oh you’ve always known what I want from you

And you hold it close to your chest

Under lock and key and duress

I could kill myself, leave a sim­ple note of sin­gu­lar pleas

But you still wouldn’t give me what I need–

His release.

For his release is mine



And you’ll never let me go

Blis­tered and mangled

You’ll never let me go as such…

I’ve seen too much.



©Jen2010 1–31

Doth thy hunger seek redress
In
Sub­tle Death?

Con­sum­ing essence
best left for
Children’s innocence?

Wouldst thy shed skin
And life
for
a but­ter­flies
Errant Path?

Dance to a falling leaf
in Autumns pain?

A drunk­ards folly
in muted scream?

The flayed skin of truth
Cry­ing imag­i­nary sin?

Would it be
The Die
Rolls
For purpose?

That the Ran­dom Gods
Do so shud­der
at Happenstance?

Would it be the clenched tear
Finds
res­o­lu­tion
In
Linens gen­tle catch

Eat not thy Tail Ourbo­ras
Seek truths gen­tle caress
Let her dic­tates
love you

Seek her embrace
And know
The truth
of pain.

Wouldst thy tail
be
An
End
Unto
itself?

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.

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