The Slow Descent into Dementia
Bound and left for the beasts,
what awaits is no end
No shade finds my flesh,
and the catching fibers
are slowly burnt to a crisp
And such a darkness,
the vision of my eyes,
Whatever lies ahead
The rotting time,
The old home of my mind...
the dust and asbestos
what fragments remain.
left for my demons-
I'm simply waiting for time
to drag me away and down,
for the rotting feast...
to begin waiting
for this life
to fade away
with every bite.
The Devout, The Divine, The DeceasedThe Devout, The Divine, The Deceased in Free Verse More Like This
Three are they,
Of Heavenly origin.
Governed by the Highest Throne,
and led by the Horsemen.
Devout are the Grim Trinity.
As death has never ceased
So true to the cause are they...
By cursed and divine blades.
The Patrons of the Deceased and Dying...
and of those related to the involved.
Divine by right is the Angel...
Unholy by cause is the Demon...
Leader by title is the Nephilim.
By them are taken souls guided,
Through them are souls
released or enslaved.
The Forward MovementThe Forward Movement in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Tragedy, abrupt to my very soul,
that left me far from whole.
The withered memory born unto my dreams again,
refreshed and once more binding me by chain.
The reopening scars I once upon a time, thought healed,
gape wide to open for the flood gates, red and revealed.
My witnessing eyes bleed out old tears from a rusted well,
Attempting again to put back out the fires of this age old Hell.
The rising waters find my feet and climb,
the two floods meet, where their cause is rhymed.
My heart from which the blood and tears flow,
now at where the pain does ever grow.
Close these outpouring wounds, build back up the walls...
Make for my feet, the forward movement from where my future calls.
Once again I will shed my skin,
leaving behind the marks of where I've been.
The Changing TideThe Changing Tide in Free Verse More Like This
The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.
Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.
The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my efforts.
Once upon a time, in the dream come true through which I slept,
did a fairy tale once exist…
that tale of my tale through endless times of a dream come true
and gone by in the era that I once lived and favored.
Yet Another Fallen HostYet Another Fallen Host in Free Verse More Like This
My, what hope lies
in the half empty glass,
trembling by tremor and leer.
At such a long road's end,
does it rise and shatter.
What understanding have you,
of fear, of pestilence,
other than the existence of self.
Imposed, the creation
to be eventually bled out.
Filthy, the very cause
by which the water rises,
boiling with blisters
in the overwhelming sin
of the ever beating sun above.
Freedom, to the acrostic asininity
now found laughing atop the grave...
the grave of past gone by,
decaying with every bite
of a gluttonous sloth with an ancient cause.
That to my eyes, the mass hysteria,
borderline loss of sanity from the commonalty.
Have I lost track or do my eyes deceive,
the horsemen's tracks are of disarray,
and I know not which one has come.
Now, the angels look onward,
gazing with hopeless eyes,
searching for faith in the fallen creation,
who now wither and crawl,
away as they fall, into the Abyss....
Declines, the signs of the end,
the near and far come and go,
as the war seeps t
The White MorgueThe White Morgue in Free Verse More Like This
Watching, my eyes saw the swaying limbs
thin and starved by winter winds...
Dancing, like moving cracks on the window,
Through which I did stare.
Imagine, the image so morbid above as I gazed.
unnerving to the anchoring blood,
drying up within the veins of my limbs,
much like the branches that sliced the air...
The roots dug deep into my back,
and the anchored blood began to freeze...
My vessels, destroyed by glaciers,
of icy blood, that once flowed.
The travesty, of the bullet plunged into my heart,
whose beat slows, and withers and fades.
Too and so soon, the loss of my life...
Now I play the game of patience...
It's Just a PhaseIt's Just a Phase in Free Verse More Like This
It's when you close your eyes that you can hear endless cries for help,
But you can only see whatever your mind allows.
The world is a beautiful Hell worth fighting for,
all as a matter of perspective.
It's just a phrase, it's just phase,
Adjust the gaze and give none but praise.
Open your tired eyes, let the floodgates swing open
and wash away the dirt and grime of this world.
Find it's beauty, hidden past the piled filth,
and wipe it clean with what tears fall from you.
Redeeming qualities are what outweigh the countless flaws,
yet we ignore them because we love to hate.
What storms come, come to pass,
and at their end does the sky remain.
4. From Omphalos and Into the War Zone4. From Omphalos and Into the War Zone in Free Verse More Like This
The arachnid turned, and receded to the peak of the structure,
The creatures stood as still as the trees,
And soon, they too did retreat back to whence they came in the woods.
A powerful gust came to my shoulders,
And at a drumming pace did it come from above…
My ears then beheld in amazement, the beating wings.
The numbers were the sort that would leave you speechless,
Endless were the children of Creation, loyal to a dying & holy breath,
Swooping down, as their passing pulled me back towards the edge.
Here began my free fall from Omphalos and into the War Zone.
Past the maze which I once did tread, descending the mountains side,
Back down to my place of origin to this journey, where my rose was received.
There did I land as a shade, untouched by what I was to witnessed,
Yet still petrified and still did I stand,
Alike my putrid corpse that was feet from my feet.
My out of body experience found interruption from surrounding eyes,
Inhuman and many, outnumbering the shine and
An Old Drawing BoardAn Old Drawing Board in Free Verse More Like This
The layer of ash stains the face of a chalk board, like running mascara.
The highlights of various words linger like dwelling spirits with unfinished business.
If such is a moment that clarity comes to a sixth sense,
where the echoed voices of buried bones resonate in my mind, far past my ears, then may mercy find me.
Descend now the ancient sounds from all skies above,
the sounds of silence that register with every standing hair on my skin, and a cold signature up my spine.
The chalk board begins to scream beneath the iron curtain of wretched nails,
molesting the surface and face in malicious motion and forethought.
Silence becomes the air I breathe, and a journey comes to an end as black
and white consume perspective. The words upon that board become names.
A Stubborn Faith and Warped InsomniaA Stubborn Faith and Warped Insomnia in Free Verse More Like This
I can watch the sun rise,and a weeping moon fall.
Not caring in the slightest with passing seconds
in and out of the narrow span of my damaged attention.
Mine are the eyes that will close but hardly sleep
with my dreams whilst they are so abusive in their relationship.
My dreams are awake and warped, and I shall die and die again.
Why is it that I care so little, that apathy replaces
the voids of open wounds? These are but leeches on my Light,
as I become lost with Virgil and Dante.
Hunger sets in from a skipped feast, past an ignored sleep cycle.
A fable becomes my story to be a lesson learned to children
of a lesser future where apathy is the life blood of the world.
Here I will watch with reluctance, the falling moon and rising sun,
night after night, alone with my Light until
one day some day, I live again and again.
How to Fix The WorldHow to Fix The World in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
an execution, while play
The howling strings
Of the cellos
Of the veins
Of the time
To the discord
Are the who and what,
the how and the why
Ever lost to that
of the cords
of the strings
of the howling
"Fix this", they cry,
the masses whose
words fester and boil,
carried words, spoken indirect
of the leaders
of the struggles
of the home
of the brave
The final breath
of humanities dying words
"in ashes, from ashes"
She speaks, so melancholy
of the future
of the present
of the past
"World!" She pleads
with a cry, so finishing
"Heed and listen!"
To them she speaks
Of the necessary
of the desired
of the curses
of their blessings...
Periwinkles and Black HolesPeriwinkles and black holesPeriwinkles and Black Holes in Free Verse More Like This
Resting underneath suns as dark as coals
An arm signed by a razor
Caused by a heart covered in craters
A field of violet abyss
Swallowed by black amiss
Sacrificial LambThere, an alter drenched with stainsSacrificial Lamb in Free Verse More Like This
Rusty and ancient
A lonely finger caressed smooth marble
A Crumbling ode to a lost Deity
There had long been an offering
To that thirsty Goddess
Only one, but the blood remained present for long after
Old and worn after centuries of time
And there was a poor lamb, led to the sparkling marble
Already starving and at the verge of collapse
And there the lamb was tied, to that alter
Left in the embrace of the Goddess
Where she slowly restored it to health and happiness
The lamb did not know through all of its glee, what was to come
The blade that rested across its throat
Waiting for the moment...
The Dreamer and the God (Prologue)The Dreamer and the God (Prologue) in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
The god-killer ran across fresh-fallen snow, dragging his prisoner behind.
They came to a frozen stream and crossed, boots hammering the surface. The noise was loud and erratic, an intrusion into the silent watch of the trees that stood sentinel, armoured in snow. Once they'd reached the opposite bank the captor turned to his captive. A brief pause as they stared at one another, gasping for air.
"You have to know this isn't going to work out." The ragged merchant tugged at the chain looped around his neck, an act of minor rebellion long since rendered meaningless. "Doesn't matter what happens now. They won't let you reach the dungeon." His lips formed what might have once been a wry smile; instead it was a savage grin revealing shattered teeth and bloodied gums.
The Dreamer and the God (Synopsis)The Dreamer and the God (Synopsis) in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
In the shadow of a dungeon a god-killer prepares to escape from the world by destroying it.
On the other side of the continent, another man wakes up in a field with no memory and among strangers.
His past lies locked in the fragments of his dreams, but in an attempt to remember he will be forced to retrace the god-killer's footsteps and set off a series of events that will plunge the land into chaos.
This is the story of their war to control fate, whatever the cost.
FableMoon cloaksFable in Free Verse More Like This
(and you are)
left clad in only
the softest of
GhostsNight time musings;Ghosts in Free Verse More Like This
hollow-eyed and shallow-breathed,
filling the spaces between clouds.
Quivering shadow skin
And there are voices in the dark,
lost sighs and weight upon whisper;
but, we are all whispers here.
PaletteThe painted lady stands,Palette in Free Verse More Like This
and waiting for a cab.
MizpahThe crying windMizpah in Free Verse More Like This
and blurred at
ApsaraFind me sunken into theApsara in Free Verse More Like This
lotus field, bathing skin silvergreen,
waist-deep and pink
in sunset, and we will cry:
for three-faced elephants,
for the dancers threading grace
between their fingertips—
until I dress in the heaviness,
a sarong of heat.
TattooHear me read itTattoo in Free Verse More Like This
I splashed black ink onto your spine;
unintentional as I frenzied and fawned
to try and catch the elusive thought.
You patiently waited for me to return,
out of breath and triumphant, with my trophy.
We hung it on wood next to the elk.
In my haste to write of the love of you,
I'd written in you. I'd marked you as mine,
as my words intoxicated your weak heart.
The ink had permeated your flesh, your blood,
until it silted, deep inside you,
a permanent, unedited, tattoo of our love.
ScarsSee the sharpness of my tongue-nibScars in Free Verse More Like This
As the metallic taste in my mouth draws out
A barking cough, forced out
By the dirty nicotine lining my lungs.
See the blade of stubbornness
That slices across my cheek bone;
An amalgamation of all the times you pushed me.
See the residue in my eyes,
The remnants of all those times you forced me
And I forced myself not to cry;
Those tears condensed into a thick blinding syrup
That colours all things red.
See the crinkle in my nose,
The wrinkles on my heart
As I remember how you didn't love me. (Don't love me).
See the burns on my psalms
And fingerprints singed off
By all the times you called me nothing.
See the manacles, the barnacles
The mutations and tumours.
See the invisible scars of the Battle of Us.
Roses /I brought you rosesRoses / in Free Verse More Like This
and came back each day,
to watch them decaying
and tried not to liken them
to your body beneath the earth.
The Waiting GameHear me read itThe Waiting Game in Short Stories More Like This
I gripped the ladder fiercely until my knuckles whitened and my bones complained at the strain. I remained this way, like a rigor mortised superhero until my mind associated the tight throttling hold on the wood with the concept of choking someone; at which point I let go, momentarily, alarmed by the violence of my own thoughts.
The slight shudder rippled up through the fluidous wood and you complained loudly of my carelessness. We laughed and you dripped paint down trying to cut open my scalp with splashes of mint. Mrs Coraline banged her walking stick against her kitchen window with a resolute scowl and we tried to straighten our faces and appendages accordingly.
You had steady hands, so you had gone up the ladder to carefully apply the paint to the gutters. We had been promising to do this job for a year now, but last summer we were too lost in love to be found by anyone, even someone looking so hard as Mrs Coraline. Th
Rock BottomThey say a rolling stone gathers no moss,Rock Bottom in Free Verse More Like This
so when I shudder to a halt
The rocks in my feet continue to grind.
I feel the sand in my lungs
and the regretful mist silting in my heart
as the waves come back in
reaching eagerly for my legs, spooling, churning
over me. Rooted in my misery.
I know the rocks in my feet will help me drown.
Stitches in SilverCrumpled in her palmsStitches in Silver in Free Verse More Like This
it became nothing more than a ball of tinfoil.
With blunted corners
protesting /*¬\`| their way from the curl.
I watched her bite her nails
until the fingers swelled with blood
around the edges,
I did not stop her. I did not want to stop her.
Dissatisfied with the destruction
She put the packet on the table,
rubbed it out smooth
until it was flat and dull once more.
She tugged at the perforated veins
Until they dis
She ripped and dug the blunted corners of her hands
Until the seeds popped out.
Pale faced imitations of her own blank face.
I did not stop her. I did not want to stop her.
She ordered them into a firing line
and carefully, consideredly,
she ground her fist into them.
She made them into dust.
Finally, generations too late, the tears came
and then I went to her.
To pick up the pieces, to sew up the holes.
BlackI chew on the blubbery meat of my tongue,Black in Free Verse More Like This
But it revulses
So whenever I swallow I gag.
I try not to inhale the acrid hiss of discontent
That seeps out of the corners of my mouth
And runs a river down my chin;
It reminds me of peaches. I cry.
I have digested the venom
The black rotten root of my own plague;
Ingested it. Injected it. How quick I am to accept death to me.
As organs revolve, revolt, regurgitate
I caged butterflies in my abdomen
As if lushness couldn't catch them there.
I knew better.
I ple'd to the sewn-in stars and their makeshift tenants,
For salvation and for suicide.
They offered neither.
So I sit and stew in these bodily discharges.
Sweat, love, poetry, tears.
Let them pore out of me and penultimately;
(for my salvation hangs with the noose);
Erode me back to the stub of the soul,
That gnarled and raging root.
Who could ever love, a beast.
The EditorMakeshift by the lake,The Editor in Free Verse More Like This
I watched you finish my sentence
- Hastily retracting the bitterness
and editing out
my overstated meaning.
A fly serenaded you,
As you derooted the root,
- Deflowered the bud
and edited out
every semblance of a meaning.
I allowed it, in the summer haze.
For you to slather me
- In someone elses
soaked in someone elses feeling.
But when you slept at last
I arose, painted bleach by your tongue
- Shook off your petty rules
and crossing outs
and ran away, free - and feeling.
Breaking Them InSpasmodic heart,Breaking Them In in Free Verse More Like This
Tumbleweeds through my chest,
Bang bang bangs against my ribs;
it demolishes me.
Palms on plastic,
Losing control again, Tell myself I
can can can keep getting through this.
It won't devour me.
Tears from the bridge,
Overexposed my pneumonic heart to
hope hope hoping that I could.
So afraid that I'd fail.
I refused to settle in ash.
No no no, I wouldn't endure another
year lost in the dark.
I gathered my tail,
brushed off maggot-sodden feathers
So so so frightened to fall
I barked, I bucked - and I flew.
Cluck Thiswhen circadias begin to floatCluck This in Free Verse More Like This
upturned on a stagnated river
and you yourself are heart down
with your crest fallen about you
then look for the end in me.
when closing your eyes brings light
and the sun kisses carrion
with your heart clucking openly
about some misdeed, some old seed,
of misfortune from its past - then
then, look for the end in me.