Tag: memory

hereticsloversmadmen.com, poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized17 Comments

so what are you doing for your birthday

oldepunk

this tribunal appellate, platinum lassitude painted with disingenuous fingers appalled at the notion of loss breathing with eyes shut the hour is late and no one is coming to champion the cause because there’s no profit involved I’m freebasing ideas in the square room all the blank stares tell me it’s unfair and the prognosis untenable, tourmaline mandate we are torpid cancer awaiting fruition I find it all so fun(gible) strapped in the network my workload is overloaded debt my unnecessary companion If I just get that one more thing capacitors at full capacity we are breakdown not like Tom … Continue reading so what are you doing for your birthday

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Raven

oldepunk

pheromone causeway to a Juliet birthday I will swill poison just to kill you for a day raven black, this attack doldrums hit me landlocked clock on the wall is mocking it was a present from your father antique and complicated just like us I navigate a back way to bus stop and wait for a ride I’m running on a carousel I am unable to define this time you told me one of my issues: I must always have a name for things guess you win because I do not know what to call this place I find myself … Continue reading Raven

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’94

oldepunk

It was the best of times and we all had a bottle full of promise.  The summer was on and full; iron in the blood.  the sun was big as were the dreams we shared on our sleeves.  the picture of beauty was Hope Sandoval singing Fade Into You on MTV and we were all looking for that one person to dance with.  We ended up jamming together for a while through a few LollaPaloozas then went separate ways. I can’t sing and I don’t like to rhyme, i’m not much of any…one.  If there somet….stuff I could say I … Continue reading ’94

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Wistful Poison-revised

oldepunk

I obfuscate my temptation by metaphor poisoning the flowers I love, and feed weeds choking at root of square problems with memento mori I don’t feel like sunshine today so pull the curtain, fade to black ensemble choirs’ aria trembling hand to hold onto means nothings were tainted absinthe and woe charlatan payday, and hey you would to if anyone were that dumb deaf to the notion I bespoke upon trodden it’s a chemical reaction playing out in this hospice bed, they won’t let you die, it hurts the profit margin I color outside lines standing in rain for another … Continue reading Wistful Poison-revised

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OP’s TSotD-Counting Crows

oldepunk

This song man….   A long December and there’s reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last I can’t remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving Now the days go by so fast And it’s one more day up in the canyon And it’s one more night in Hollywood If you think that I could be forgiven I wish you would The smell of hospitals in winter And the feeling that it’s all a lot of oysters but no pearls All at once you look across a crowded room To see the … Continue reading OP’s TSotD-Counting Crows

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Ring Of Hemlock

oldepunk

I arrive in time to forget to gather myself for the fall oak, leaf, ash, hemlock Sacred pushing and pulling, seismic the grip of adulation I coalesce the notions of ardor gather and weave the wreath of Tristan and Gwenhwyfar armor burnished the colours of morning forests and rolling hill the mists are dew on my tongue but not to beguile, lo to harken unto maiden fair laissez faire, drift upon cloaked clouds of her breath and seek harbor in her breast as an embraced ideal of peace as equals, in part to impart the bond of love so deep … Continue reading Ring Of Hemlock

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digging

oldepunk

a fallow umbrage permeates the dust, with callow countenance chalk outlines of yesterday lightning and mad science will not resurrect the past ghastly import lines crawl webs on cheeks mouth working in anger sends gravestone chill weary of this wintry disdain clasping the handle of a shovel excavation continues. I cannot rest until this casket is filled and buried. image courtesy of Pinterest Continue reading digging

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Some sunshine

oldepunk

dumb, drunk and unhappy shuffling feet in a barnstorm clapping nostalgia on the back the knives’ out just for show if this wasn’t love, I’d label it scorn I am a collection of lines in old and forgotten songs dusty hymns sung to the low ultraviolet dope down dawg collared flea-bitten mongrel of a steed bent on bad knees weak, in need of a peek at anything that can bring some sunshine Fostered gasoline children foment rebellion from our nether regions apart by river and wall side by side on the map to go where you need to go we … Continue reading Some sunshine

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Scratching

oldepunk

I think I finally scratched that itch.  You know the one.  If you don’t then fuck off, you don’t need to be reading my confession.  Got a lust for a bust and I am on the cusp of something.  Eyes wide with the fear of the near.  Not looking for repast, I am past living in the past.  A fast turn away from memory lane.  Don’t care whether first or last in line, I gotta make do with the left side of the righteous.  I am due a rebirth and we lay down to the last carol.  If I can … Continue reading Scratching

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Of rivers and mountains

oldepunk

old damage with a new face there is a tertiary peace for fresh pain in another place there is a minus in the minutes that hold the spaces an old oak outside the library still beats with the letters set by hands of innocence a setting, not undone only strengthened by the passage of seasons the loss is felt in the memory that is held too close to see clearly with blurred vision I no longer care to sing along with the names that change in the same old song the rivers speak to me of mourning and the mountains, … Continue reading Of rivers and mountains