Category Archives: Poetry

Playing To The Beat Of The Winds

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silent rolling hills

grasses still

as the trees standing above them

watchful soldiers

on the eve of battle

there’s a flower garden too

yellow

and purple petals particularly pushy

each inching higher than the other

for light

red brick preventing

further advance

Stonewall Jackson

come again

there’s a pretty little girl

dancing in the middle of it all

serenity mixed

with delicious vulgarity

as played with herself to the beat of the winds

enveloped me

fully clothed

yet confidently nude

in expression

and in awe of wonder

there’s no one to tell her

how to dress

or how to live

so she danced

she danced

and everyone that came near her

became white as the milk

that dripped

from her bosoms

 

 

Daytime Is A Bastard To My Existence

1

 

Cast aside

torn apart

by wolves

picked clean by vultures

and sapped of any manhood left

by desperate bitches

wishing not to be able to walk

when morning light

strikes their thighs

still gleaming from my light

injected into their living

yet lifeless

souls

trudging in the desert

frost bitten by the night

the moon closes the wounds

with songs sung by starlight

till I’m asleep in a dream

sunlight opens them up again

tearing my spirit

ripping the soul

daytime is bastard to my existence

and the clouds are the mob

mocking me with cover

only to reveal rays brighter

sharper

than before

eating food takes energy

and it tastes sweet for such

a short time

I wish it never did

to begin with

where I’m walking

mishappen footprints may tell

a flock of crows

drone on and on

If only I was David

I’d strike them with thunderous bolts

and eat their brains fresh

as nature

did to mine

when I was born

I was not given eyes

to see people

nor the ears

to hear them

I can only guess

how they feel

and predict after practice

what their words mean

those genuinely cunning

and others

desperate for a one night stand

they’re all bred

from the same cloth

and the fire

turns all to dust

 

Dimple Verse Response Post (happy birthday to an amazing poet)

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(I know it’s past, but I just want to say happy birthday again to my favorite twitter poetry prompt hostess)

Walk along the shore

she’s holding my hand

every step of the way

the sun’s just barely risen

waves are calmer than usual

and sands part at out feet

the sea is in her eyes

so blue, so vast

and I look into her

and say

you are

my memory garden

things I’ve kept inside for years

bloomed in harmony with you

unedited love

the world saw as weeds

you see dandelions

bitter, but beautiful

because they’re part

of what makes me alive

unseen layers of each other

are broken when we’re together

our loving is never rough

but sweeter every time

my veins burst with excitement

and arteries swell and erupt

when you dance nude to

the song of myself

on the streets of my heart

an eternal yearning

for a sea of joy

is brought to me

every time I look up into your eyes

every night is different

but somehow you’re the same

I’ll tell you more

when you read me tomorrow, again

then stooping by the sea

I pulled a daisy from my ear

she’d always put them there

and I gave my love again

live perpetually, Cassie

live on

 

Boycott Love And Embrace The Detox

wamtac

Boycott love

boycott this god damned

relationship shattering

lust fulfilling

and ironically short lived

love

just fall for a good friend

someone who understands

your sins, your hates

and your ticklish spots

a person who makes you run

deeply tiring

but equally satisfactory

a hard day’s work

plowing an open field

too caught up on the outside

cups and waist will pass away

but the beauty

or lack

on the inside

cannot be aged

shrunk

or changed with the insertion

of plastic

it’s quite fantastic what you learn

when you accept one for who they are

and not spurn them

simply because they don’t maintain a standard

or complete the one

you picture in your mind

fall for someone who isn’t attractive

and refuses to wear Hollister

on the account of being too wide

love them for their honesty

generosity

or ability to quote chapters of books

at random

what I’m trying to say is

love people for people

not the person you wish they’d be

or what they wish to be

love them for who they are

no matter where they’ve come

or where they’re going

love people

because they’re human

and guess what

you are too

boycott love

and be proud of the detox

you might just be surprised

at the new life you’ve been granted

 

Twisted Rhymes From A Twisted Mind

wamtac

Morning comes, and everyone is eager

quickly they rise out of bed

but I never want to

abused and refused by the words of those

who said they knew me best

face straddled by hips of a lonely, lovely silence

beautiful to the point of pain

writing down the words inspired by raucous love

has me going insane

I see her alone in the shower

on a quiet weekend morn

and I want do her all over again

with strength gained from heartache reborn

travel up her spine with fingers moving all the time

we both get so turned on by the games we play

on each other’s minds

tongues twisting in each other’s mouth

drowning ourselves in a sea of organized panic

swimming in depression derived so long ago

that the stench has genitals turning rancid

releasing anger pent up by years

beating, pounding

until she’s a bleeding ball of reckless waste

reduced to puddles of sweat and inches of blood

from my younger days

Oh, who am I kidding

it’s just me, no girl

she’s just made up in my mind

to pass the time

and inspire another one

of my twisted rhymes

 

 

 

Darkness Abounds In The Pretense of Light

wamtac

Darkness abounds

in the pretense of light

the sun shining

casting down rays fanning out

to scour the land

snipers pointing motionless rifles

into the scorching desert sand

shadows to rise because of light

behind exalted altars of misinterpreted power

and shortsighted ingenuity

they take the sons from behind

strangle them with the same ropes

the light had tied to them

while they wasted away as slaves

an uprising not surprising

the dark takes back the light

every night

but this time, there will be no sunrise

except for heaping pile of stones

made from the pyramids they were forced to build

and upon it the shadow slaves

exalted not an idol of gold

but upon the peak

the highest sun rose

forcing the tip of the triangle

through his back

black blood poured over the lands

his heart was lifted up

as a whirling cacaphony of praise

turned the blood into a tsunami

that drowned everything in its path

the shadows pulled hoods

over ghastly, metallic faces

and ascended towards Orion

God’s will complete

 

One More Night

WAMTAC

One more night

one more time

I don’t know what to tell you

so let me put it in a rhyme

even as a poet

there are days when I don’t know what to say

the well runs dry, clouds hasten in forgetting to rain

and my mouth hardens and cracks like clay

some nights she won’t even look my way

so I take my pillow sulking

and on the couch I lay

there are some days I write little

but never not at all

writing is my breath, my air

and without it I will surely fall

I don’t know I lived

before I began writing

maybe that’s why I wasn’t

fighting everyone I came across

because I didn’t know what to do

with the anger pent up in my head

now I love my life

and can finally talk to you

well, let’s save that for another time

I’m still a terrible conversationalist

so one more night, one more time

I hope you enjoyed my rhyme

 

The War Of Poetic Conviction

WAMTAC

Convention

waging endless war

against my unwavering condition

arrows of all kinds

and sizes

fly through the air in mass

darkening the sun as it rises

tipped with oil, tipped with fire

they rarely kill

but injure greatly

designed to cause will to waver

and crumble when the infantry

comes later

day and night the siege rains on

they cannot hold this city

but for so long

no food to re-wire my mind

no fountain to make me young again

cutting off my life support

the empty space I need to breathe

sanity drains from my mind

through an eternal sieve

even my blood turns a cold shoulder

like I’m afraid of living

the days of old

just when the night seems to end

the moon folds it’s hand

sneaking a cunning glance

at the sun and stars

as he pulls his winnings in a pile

the dawn turns towards the deceivers

eyes reddened with intense flame

with searing pain destroys the enemy

from this son comes poetic conviction

that topples the medical profession’s

worthless predictions

tone and diction, I’ve got it in my hand

to rally my soul brothers and sisters

it’s all part of my plan

The Good Doctor and Christian Wolf be damned

I’m tired of seeing us misinterpreted

given superhuman traits

just to make a cute story

our story isn’t for your entertainment

rather our struggles

cause lifelong derailment

tell them I’m coming

I’m going ham

 

Would You Rather Be The Disease Or The Cure

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Quiet room

never empty, never full

always wishing someone

or something

could find in it a use

sitting in the heat of summer

and the cool of winter

initials carved in the bed frame

remind the emptiness how much he misses her

dust collects on unattended shelves

as the shadows take off their masks

and rest in this somber place of dwelling

windows rust, and sight into the world

becomes anyone’s guess

not even the Titanic herself

compares to this tragic mess

how one can fall

from the height of life

to lows

even zombies couldn’t comprehend

caught up in a whirlwind of love, lust, life

and feigned shots at immortality

does anyone even know what’s a sin

would you rather be the cure

or the disease

doing wonders behind closed doors

or all-powerful at the expense of every living thing

don’t pretend

don’t pretend

 

What You Could Be To Me

Sitting on the edge

of a busy road

humidity climbed out the back window

a girlfriend uninvited by parents

unfortunately temporary

rain makes the sky clear

and a calming breeze

wraps around the essence

of chocolate donuts and espresso

I picked up from work

thankful for my coworkers

boss

and wonderful customers

they make my job ever more enjoyable

and while they don’t know who I am

(maybe they do)

(that’s okay too)

I’m grateful they care regardless

as dark as I’ve felt

as troubled my thoughts are

as alone I feel I am

and as behind I feel to be

some people make it worthwhile

there are people I’ll get up early for

pretend to be open and happy for

smile for

extend a hand for

and if I close enough to you

care for

there’s very few people

I feel this way for

but they’re one of them

and you might be

too