Wednesday, October 27, 2010

A Minute of Maniacal Harvest

Sitting on these crying rocks 
I look along a setting shore
tinted by the falling clock
in twisted shades of black and orange.

I soon bestow a little dream
on the side of dying docks,
collide my lids and then it seems
everything but time has stopped.

The smell of wood is burning hot
through my nose into my lungs;
my mind has started tying knots 
with every string I should have strung.

So standing up I lean to fall
forward with my eyelids locked
to seal up everything I saw
in me as I'm crying. Stop!

Sitting on these crying rocks ,
on the side of dying docks,
my mind has started tying knots 
in me as I'm crying stop.

On The Beach of Lake Erie [Pt.II] - 7:29pm

There is a plain that sits above
slowly drifting side to side
emptying its heavy tears
that it always tries to hide.

Following a dying star
to the corner of the lake
covering and hovering
watching as I calmly wait.

Staring up and to the west
I wish that I had time to say
crying giant public fool
everything will be okay.

Between a Ragnarök and a Hard Place III

Within my heart I'm constructed of sevens
but my body is slave to only sixes.
I pray to a god. "Help please!" I beg him
"Within my heart I'm constructed of sevens!"

He laughs on his throne in a fairytale heaven
cutting me deep to the point that it itches
within my heart. I'm constructed of sevens
but my body is slave to only sixes.

Between a Ragnarök and a Hard Place II

On the wings of wicked wastelands
her words are real and watching me
driving me insane as I land
on the wings of wicked wastelands.

Tricking trickling blood to rain and
laughing at it mockingly
on the wings of wicked wastelands
her words are real and watching me.

Between a Ragnarök and a Hard Place I

I will tear this world apart
stepping on a thousand eyes.
Breaking suns to form the dark,
I will tear this world apart.

Maniacally inclined at heart
and sullen as the haggard skies,
I will tear this world apart
stepping on a thousand eyes.

Gold 100s

Poison me please
today and tomorrow I'll quit.
(I doubt it.)

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Veronika Kirsch: Basic Pleasures and Love

Hear me dearest darling
this silence is written for you.
This is not regarding
the nastier things that we do.
This feeling is deeper, its deeper
surely you're feeling it too.
Oh I know you do.

All the lights
can go out the same time.
Just know that I
will never leave your side.

See me dearest darling
I'm timelessly smitten with you.
My eyes are not enlarging
from the nastier things that we do
This feeling is stronger, its stronger
surely you're feeling it too
Oh I hope you do.

All the lights
will go out at the same time.
You'll know that I
will always be by your side.
Our hearts will burn with desire for days and days
setting this city aflame in brightly painted tidal waves.

Rediscovering The Monster

I have a sweet tooth
for women with venom,
fangs and no love
for the lovelier things
a classic sickness
with hydrochloric
acid hips that rain.
Not to mention,
lips that burn
with a touch

Veronika Kirsch: Permagasm

Her lips are lined with experiences we'll never forget
and wet like a snowflake dissolving on mine.
A kiss that felt like heaven and tasted like hell
she moved like the truth and felt like a lie.
Love was in arms reach time after time
but we'd never fail to simply
kick it away with curled toes,
scare it gone with sick screams
and smash it to pieces on top of one another.
Her taste will never leave my mouth
her scent remains in my nose
her eyes remain in mine
and our hearts always beat at the same instance
130 times per minute.

Veronika Kirsch: Delinquent Desires

Desiring a touch from her
my eyes move forward and backwards
I should never want her
though I do
Her smile is wide
and bright as her eyes
that take me to a simple time
of disinfected memories

I'm singing to the heart from the mouth of the soul
Chasing a story untold

Dying for a touch from her 
my eyes close rolling backwards
I could never love her
though I do
Her scent and her taste;
her lips and her waist
take me to a simple place
of recollected reveries

I'm singing to her heart from the mouth of my soul
Still Chasing 
the end to a story untold.

This love, is a crime 
and thats why 
she brought the handcuffs.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Propaganda's History

Silence insisted upon this land of hope
silencing dreams with asylum screams
the hole is your home but you aren't alone
You'll never be just as free as all of us read
in propaganda history
and his story is written by the winning kings.

Pyros are pissing upon this land of gold
High, lows and means, are not what they seem
the soul is your home but you aren't alone
You'll never pull from the seams, our hopes and our dreams
in propaganda misery
and misery is never felt by the winning kings

The youth here are rising upon this land so old
Trying to clean the blight of obscene
this road is our home but we aren't alone
We'll always brighten our gleams, heighten our screams
when propaganda's history
and heres where we behead those winning kings and fuck their queens

Thanks to Glenn Phoenix for the inspiration on this one, wouldn't have wrote it otherwise.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Veronika Kirsch: The Lovers Karamazov

In and Out of love
sharing these sinful nights
As we sway like doves
everything wrong becomes right.
These thoughts are racing like a torrent to a waterfall
We've lost our pacing so by now we've probably done it all.

And we were stuck in the muck of the rut that we made as we fell
down on our luck as we fuck like we cant get enough, hell.

I'll make things simple again
so simple my friend
easy to comprehend.
Find your way back to me please.

I'll be a serial suicide
that never fails to fall closer from behind
Filling the tomb with these wounds
self inflicted inside
self inflicted tonight
Bang the fucking drum and sweat to death
As I dive into this rum and lose every breath
For ev er.

And we're stuck in the muck of the rut that we made as we fell
down on our luck as we fuck like we cant get enough. Help.

I'll make things simple again
so simple my friend
Harder for you to pretend.
Find your way away from me

Thursday, October 14, 2010

A Truth Insincere

Success is unattainable, 
         Happiness is unsustainable

but life and love will always be
    something unrestrainable.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Candy From A Stranger

The truth will set you free, but only at a fee as it
knocks on the door making you weak at the knees.
And you say, "Not today. Can you please just
Go away? I'm nailing my hands shut to permanently pray.
I'm looking for the light that is missing from my life and
the truth is never right if it can be seen with plain sight."
and so it grieves and starts to leave but just before
it goes away, it screams "You don't believe in me anymore!"

Silent Hill

Sirens roar in violent waves
Intimidating even the most fearless travelers.
Look at the buildings as they crumble but stand before you
Excited within the falling fury of a flurry of ashes.
Now you run desperately into one of them
To live at most a minute more.

Here he comes, Pyramid Head. Not speaking, for silence
Is one of the great arts of conversation and death.
Listening to your breath and weilding the Great Knife.
Lusting for your skin stalkingly as you run for your life.

The Last Horror Movie

To follow the shadows of a serial killer
Hawking him stalking his victims with ease
Evenly needs isanity and intelligence.

Love is his motive, but for art, not his victims.
Art made of blood, duct tape and stab wounds
Sane are his reasons, he's genuinely nice having
Tea with his friends as you watch like a voyeur.

Hammers and pipes and mirror like knives
Offer his prey spicey events for their deaths.
Returning to view is his personal life
Recording weddings and visiting his grandmother.
Over the course of this month that it spans, he starts to
Reveal his more sinister plots.

Maybe this movie you've rented is real, a warning
Or maybe its faux or just a mistake. As it ends you hear
Vexatious delays in speech converse, for silence
Is one of the great arts of conversation,
Especially when he returns the tape for you.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Tears Into Diamonds

A voice of breath and tongue ignite her eyes
like matches chain reacting to a spark.
A flash of floods and creeping torrent cries
come pouring out the cracks within her heart.

Her lips then quiver quick with subtle rain
as tears come racing off her blocks of blue.
Her face is flushed with shades of red and pain;
Her piercing shrieks are hard and far and few.

She's tired, worn; her hair sticks to her throat
while makeup crawls from cheek to chin to shirt.
The wires of her speech conduct the notes
that only care to show me that she's hurt.

But with my words she'll rise from her demise
and smile, like the dawn of morning skies.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

What She's Made Of

What makes her breathe are dark ingredients
Held close with ties of bondage mixed with pain.
And with her words she'd bite so deviant
Transporting venom swift within your veins.

She struts her hips of sharpened needle points
Held down by legs that could sink battleships
Erecting flames to warm her quivered joints
Subduing men as her tongue cracks its whip.

Medallion eyes, seductive tears of gold
And fingernails of steel for stabbing hearts,
Deceitful lips and demons in her soul
Effacing these facades just needs a spark.

One knee, two words, a gasp of shock inhaled.
Forsaken angels glow when love's unveiled.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

I Call Her "Real"

Because her heart was far too bleak
And holy for a soul to sink
Across the lake where torrents died
To freeze within her glacial cries
Because the girl whose lips could run
A trembling love through burning suns
Would quiver like a blade of steel
Because of this I called her "Real."

Because the fires growing blue
About her skin of silent ruse 
Were ever charmed with meatless bones
That warned the weak to leave her 'lone
Because her face might break a heart
That, falling as it fails to start
Would never be of ease to steal.
Because of this I called her "Real."

Because I'd never met a girl
As darklit as galactic swirls
And sexy as a river bend
That creeps around in hopeless sin.
To some green men she's just a wish,
That shooting star their lids did miss.
And though I woke without her feel,
Inside my mind I call her "Real." 

This poem was inspired by one of my favorite poems, "Dream" by James Whitcomb Riley.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010


Rare tan trees,
arrange earnest ranges.
Sergeants stagger,
engage gates
teenagers repent
a teargas taste.
Ragtag streets
rare near terrae
Angst erases
an Easter garage.
Satan's senate seat
stares east,
stern, sane, strange
gnars enraged.
Strange stages,
stranger states.

This is an anagrammatic poem. This is more constrained than my semi anagrammatic form. The semi constrained the words in the poem to start with letters from the title word. The fully anagrammatic constrains every letter of every word of the poem. Whatever the title word is determines what letters can be used in the entire poem. This particular poem only contains the letters: s, t, r, a, n, g, and e. Of course some words use the same letters twice which is allowed the only rule is that you must only use letters found in the title word.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Teaching Flies And Birds

I tried to teach the flies to sing
and birds to walk like human beings.
To hit the notes of do re mi
upright uptight on both their feet.

I tried to teach the flies to sting
and birds to work like honey bees
pursuing checks to turn to green
to fight in flight and die trying.

I tried to teach the flies to scream
and birds to shine like sunny gleams;
yelling and letting off some steam,
catching the eyes of you and me.

But all these things I tried to teach
to flies and birds were out of reach
and too unnatural of a feat
for they live short, but they live free.