Tag Archives: contempt

Poetry: Swift To Hell

Poetry I have written for my wife, Rebecca. Presented for the first time anywhere. Visit her blog at My Faces of Life.

I shall lay waste to cities
fell mountains to rubble
drain oceans azure green.

I will melt arctic ice
eviscerate whole planets
shoot the moon dead.

I will vaporize the stars
pull the sun from orbit
tilt earth on its axis.

Aye, these things I’d do
to find the vile demon
that has harmed my love.

And if he should be
cold dead in the ground
lying there falsely.

Then to his coffin I’d go
crush him bone to bone
and send him swift to hell.

Poetry: I Capitulate

A cold cloak
chills
my aged bones it
belies
those crimson eyes
those smoldering orbs
those smoking windows
of despair

and yet
I draw closer
I capitulate
I accede
in the knowing
of what is
and what was
and what will
never be
with one touch I’m
entombed
then asphyxiated
then extinguished

my ashes
barely glancing
your frozen ground
your dead horizon
your nuclear dust
before they are
pulverized and
obliterated
beyond the echo
of your
terrifying laugh.

Poetry: Therein

Therein lies your beauty
testify to me no longer
of dandelions and daffodils
of butterflies and bumblebees
do not chant as crows
beyond sight scatter
then gather
in frigid naked trees
diseased with
discord
disaffection
malfeasance.

The recompense for
transgressions
lays waste to beauty’s cache
of finery
of magnificence
of splendor
do not disgorge sorrows
breathlessly
from your heaving chest
that conclave of muted
dreams vague and dreary
do not yearn
for lovely things
that
evade you
elude you
avoid you.

Talk then of
gnarled paths
overgrown with weeds
and thick brush
and rotting moss
sing soft melancholies
into indifferent airs
scatter
your tributes breathlessly
entreat this soul
to yearn ache desire
for hues of sustenance
those colors
those images
those portraits
of secret truth
lying in wait
for the impact
of despair
dismay
distress.

Therein lies your beauty
your truth
and your essence
yet do not brave
the chasm for
it is conquered
it is besieged
it is occupied
by forlorn sages
aching to know
what chance their hopes had
from casting dreams
and illusions
and secrets
undetected
into blackened pools
of wonder.

Even dread Beelzebub
hot with rage
blindly jealous
with furious hatred
ravenous for vengeance
who rose from putrid ashes
who rose from rancid death
who rose from deadly hell
fiercely intent on doom
is but feeble
and infirm
for scarcely could he
barely could he
set ablaze
reign terror
wreak havoc
on one tenth of
the thousand worlds
within this volatile
and eremitic imagination.

Poetry: Used To

She’d say

you used to
pen little notes
to me
used to text
me
all the time

used to
make a nice
dinner on
some nights
and talk to
me for awhile.

you used to
tune into
me
when I talked
used to smile
at me always

used to
throw me
anywhere
and show
me why I
mattered

I should have
told her why
but by then
retreat was
complete I
used to drift

where I would
imagine the
thoughts I
wanted to say
wanted to share
wanted to feel

where I would
talk about
forgiveness
letting go
moving past
perceived wrongs

and dead pauses
and bad timing
and change
and vagrant looks
and wrong choices

but then
no matter
it was decided
always before I
ever decided
to stop the bleeding

I should have
said that she
never listened
never gave ground
to get beyond
her ugliness

her jealousies
her insecurities
her pettiness
her retribution
for a thousand
paper cuts

She said I inflicted

I should have
regrouped
come at it
a different way
no matter
she always decided

We should have
quit way back
when the
liquid bandaids
started this
theatre run

doomed almost from
the start
all those lights
actors called in
scabs really
to play parts

which were
hastily sketched
around fragile love
not fleshed out
barely rehearsed
it’s no wonder

I used to and I should have

Poetry: Bitch

So mangy
is this dog
that nips at my heels
matted fur
moist
with a
bitter stench.

Its eyes
half guilty
half wanting
always needing
a morsel
of kind remembrance
staunch in its
pursuit.

Go away
bitch
turn that
ragged ass
around
and slink back
into
your cold
and lonely
and jealous
domain.

There is
no treat for you
here
I always loved
cats best
at least
you know when
your life
breaks free
they could
give a shit.

You can
find them on
the windowsill
on a warm
and
sunny day
funny that
is where I am
we are and
you are not.

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