Tag: fear

dark poetry, hereticsloversmadmen.com, poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized20 Comments

Grime-revised

oldepunk

grime, and keyed latch finger on pulse nock arrow and let fly 1 million ways to communicate three ways and one day to die they can’t talk to the real summer and the dregs appalled at the pall hanging over sulky inner streets a shimmer has found niche cloister like a group of bangers over an 8th of Himalayan mad flash mob dance garbled foot speech rings out in Korean screeching magpie roosts rook rickshaw glam band hangover money expanding, witness stand over man or woman he hid the kids in the backyard a shelter from outside bigger monsters live … Continue reading Grime-revised

dark poetry, hereticsloversmadmen.com, poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Sudden Denouement, Uncategorized7 Comments

Heartsick Mandalas-revisited

oldepunk

It is a delicate deliberation that binds us. moonstone pale, this burlesque palantir no longer shows skin along the roads, a whisper can be heard clear we are drawing mandalas in the cornfields hoping the storm on the horizon moves away from here education provided is fraught with peril faces of guard are soluble, malleable they roam, ever-changing, afraid of fear of self cacophonous dirge of progress bellows from our civility drone as mind numbing as any opium the stillness in heartbreak leaves us foraging through consequence Draw a name in lamb’s blood upon doors and harken the trumpet requiem … Continue reading Heartsick Mandalas-revisited

dark poetry, poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Sudden Denouement, Uncategorized26 Comments

A folding of forms

oldepunk

There is blood in the indecision Ineffectual in effigy The loss stains the water mayhem comes before form of thought and action corals, pale blues finger upon cold lips a radiance too dark finds history in current life just below the surface a glamour of perspective honesty is brutal rippling reflections waves carry a secret until encountering break red droplets of regression palette silver anguish of green cut to the quick, knowing of life in-between image courtesy of Pinterest Continue reading A folding of forms

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Excandesco

oldepunk

The absence is fertile Cinder and wormwood oblique in caricature masque of navel peach engraved forbearance in an expression impression upon gaze become volatile, season of sundown. Bathe austere in bright color convene covenant, prayer coronal lost god 7 steps meet portal fear tread forward mete out sacrifice lay among lion and lamb lead, beg or follow choice begets meaning harbinger of reckoning. Slip slide grasping fall quiet shattering solemn vows in honor an exchange fruits’ pleasure ring around poesey storm moving swiftly toward shore.   image courtesy of Pinterest         Continue reading Excandesco

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food for crows

oldepunk

gasping, gaping. Metastasis. It glows in the corner as a fire fly’s mouth. Deep molasses of a moonless Southern night. It has a need of its own. There is a name on the door but no one knows who it belongs to anymore. That seed was scattered and crop failed. Erasure, in gilded gloaming. The craft of wetwork still decorates some of old pine floor. l’satan lo. Obstruction, judgement. The weather vane is rusted in a westerly position. Adverse to meaning, this pain is still subjective. There was never a time in this place where the low dogs didn’t whine. … Continue reading food for crows

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forms

oldepunk

in the zone a face without place or form nails to grindstone tooth for tooth ashes to ashes blessed be blasphemies kissed upon night’s curtain curtailed by wing of dove in truth, there is never peace only truce, awaiting defeat thrice damned seven-fold avenged scrape foam from a pint play another hand life is demand she’s got a doomsday tan and apricot lips a toe in the sand gun in hand in the zone a place without face or form image courtesy of Pinterest Continue reading forms

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the light

oldepunk

The light, end of the tunnel Blinded me I stumbled Fell, fell tidings tell Mouth full of earth Written worm rot Spell my namesake temples pounding in temple a prayer, yet not in faith ready to anoint; award assail, scour, our blood is young far may ye roam fall into eye of God there, to live forever reality bending, rainbows vomiting to devour innumerable rise, rise again I stand to stay may that light come no closer. one always is first one must know, zero nothing ever lasts.     Continue reading the light

Poems, poet, Poetry, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized20 Comments

Dark Moniker

oldepunk

deft, and I am deaf christen the noble night unfettered truth runs freely far and away I creep slipshod for the nonce waving pitch black monikers I pick a name that means blood on the pavement caress internal incest those games that are played behind the closed door rickshaw me to the next gambler’s den and when we arrive I fail to see the birth of my death or the beginning of your end neither suits this ignoble deed by murder we go and all for show I lust after the rotting lies you brought in from the cold we … Continue reading Dark Moniker

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fears and faces

oldepunk

I have written of fear of the faceless and you name me fearless smoky, inky-black opalescence illuminating the dark with ill faces that no longer can find home a draught of bitter with dinner I have read of fear of the faceless and you call me fearful undertones of melancholic habit our hard edge nine-to-five nonchalance yes father I know my numbers .22 .32 9mm .45 10mm .243 .306 7.62mm the cant and wrote of my forebears I know who is saved and who is not but father, why? ‘because it is the way it has always been’ the tagline … Continue reading fears and faces

poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized26 Comments

bending low

oldepunk

  bending low it’s all the thoughts I cannot express talking slow the words you are forming have no meaning there’s no weight speaking in zero gravity undertow all of the times we lost ourselves in yesterday late nights of no tomorrow summer kissing and bottled lightning sweet nothings and keg parties mushrooms and marijuana dust under my fingernails smelling of mesquite and bourbon when did we die? I am not sure I can quite remember the exact day It may have something to do with what you’re trying to say waiting for it now bending low, gravel pressing through … Continue reading bending low