Return (a poem)

Reaping what we sow
Heat gathers underneath
Phantom ground below
Highway tears, pleas
Sickness, rain through the trees
Awakened in a place named redemption
Heard the words of our fathers
Sticky, sour and aggressive
A hush, a murmur
Emotionless kisses
Lines between this world and the next
Open, pull us in
We have a choice to return
Hardened hands on the mantlepiece
Yellow eyeballs, blue lips
Let my people rest, sing for them

No Going Back (a poem)

Hunger burn fire
Lightning in my soul
A time for dying and living
Crush the skull of the skeleton
Grind it into blood wounds
And be born again, in darkness
Time frozen in the universe’s belly
Insects descend upon the castles
Feast on corpse-lovers and decay-queens
Let me have this final chance to say
That there’s no going back

Gore-Angel (a poem)

You are my last hope in this rotting city of thieves
The only gore-angel that I still believe
The agony and venom that I receive
Makes me love this sugary disease
Nightmares, visions, cries, and dreams
Your splendor brings me to my knees
I left the city, my feet aching, left you far behind
I followed the scar-faced vagabond who was deaf and blind
To the slaughter fields where I thought I could find
The grave of my father and my tribe which has been confined
Alas, you followed me there, your eyes seared and shined
With the ferocity of a hundred demons and the spirits of war
We marched among the living and stepped over the corpse
Of the burning man who burns no more
And the deity children who dared confront us
I am no longer a man but a beaten down animal
I wander and drift, my homeland in tatters
Pain sears through my body, each and every atom
You are not the liberator whom I thought would bring peace
But a grim reaper and Hades’ ravenous beast
Murder me now, give me my final rest
Here is my knife, sink it into my chest!
But you’d rather see me suffer, die slow and agonizingly
Wither away until my pain is gratifying to you
You are a creature, a truant, a curse against men
And I will hang myself in these killing fields
Bring this all to an end

The Black Mist (a poem)

The black mist rolled around me

And the vase shattered into a million pieces

The flower petals it once held

Orange, red and yellow, they were all scattered around

The pieces are now jagged and sharp

Piercing my skin deeply with every try to collect them

Maybe I’ll make a mosaic of them one day

And hopefully that image is as lovely as the vase used to be

(Photo by Fabien TWB on Unsplash)

I’m Not a Malcontent (a poem)

During winters of discontent
It’s imperative to remember
That I’m not a malcontent
And all I must do is surrender

Surrender to the sky and the sea
And throw my body in the ocean
The water washes over me
The salty air is like a potion

There was a time in my life
When I was in a straight-jacket
And I left the hospital foaming at the mouth
And was met with intolerable colors

Continue reading “I’m Not a Malcontent (a poem)”

Burn it Down (a poem)

I want to burn it all down
I’m not proud of it
But I must admit
I’m drawn to the destruction
Like a moth to a flame

The death-instinct deep inside
Driving down the highway
Passing the car crash
And turning my head
To see if anyone’s dead

It’s deplorable – this overwhelming urge
And I notice how it surges
And it’s like a scourge
The self-sabotage and the purge
That puts us on the verge
Of tearing everything down

Continue reading “Burn it Down (a poem)”

Lost and Not Found (a poem)

I. Alienation

I’ve lost track of time too many times
What am I doing here?
No one was there to answer
The streets were so empty
And there I was again, lost

Lost and not found – the story of our lives
Trying to find purpose amid the ruins
Of late-stage American capitalism
And cycles of market collapses

So, I kept wandering
The sky was charcoal but, despite that,
It was so hot the concrete sizzled
Is this what they predicted?

There’s nowhere left to turn
Everyone else has burned
And here I am, lost again

Continue reading “Lost and Not Found (a poem)”

The Pain of Living (a poem)

My skull is packed with worms
They slither and they squirm
But let’s be serious now
Let’s scamper in the streets and prowl

When the machines fell from the sky
I got a burning sensation in my eyes
The satellites crashed through our roof
And the pain of living was quite acute

The preacher told me God was dead
He’d supervised the killing himself
Then he stood up and declared
He was moving to a different realm

Continue reading “The Pain of Living (a poem)”