Posts Tagged ‘ghosts’

AOC-John-Berryman

A subtle shift of bone beneath reddened skin:
Pock-marked in places, Henry oscillates a mood-wave
Between a grimace of enthusiasm and reactive misery.
Alone in a crowd and dissolving into misty dream states,
As his consciousness thickens to a paste of confusion,
He meditates on a morbid wish for numbness.

Henry cultivates a rambunctious beard.
‘This is most unseemly’ says Mr Bones.
‘I think you have misplaced your ethics,
And your proclivities are as problematic
Starting with the alcoholism and then the drugs
Which ripple out from your unwholesome impulsivity’

Henry drinks from the event horizon of literary glory,
Then vomits a kaleidoscope abstract onto his shirt.
He is luminous in the pantheon of beautiful screw-ups
But spasms of salience and mystery are seldom rewarded with happiness.
Sooner than is fair he will suffer like a dog-turd underfoot again,
And long for the blessed suction of the infinite void of nonexistence.

skull

When you do drugs and get to middle age you lose friends

Dead friends haunt my dreams as creeping spectres

Dead friends are a tragedy of blood

Dead friends are like nails through my limbs

Dead friends are like migraines in my brain

Dead friends are holy to my spirit

Dead friends remind me I am mortal

Dead friends are ripping me apart

Can’t stop thinking about them

Their ghosts howl through my consciousness like harpies

Oscillating upwards from my reptile brain

Ned hung himself after doing speed for two weeks

Doug OD’d on heroin

Michelle died in a diabetic coma

Lee died of a heart attack

Don’t know how Venetta died

So many ghosts encircle me

Grief and sorrow punch a hole through my soul

But I will remember these faithful companions on the road to annihilation

 

night2

That energy that fuels the force of light
Drives towering trees to skies and thrusts stars higher
To coruscate like glitter in my eyes
Charging my heart and bedazzling the sky

A full moon haunts the hobo-hungry night
Diana on her hunt to queer her circle
Moonlight silvers patches on the plains
And cold soft light is mingling with the marshes

What ghosts now haunt the miscreant night?
What eyes gaze through groaning gloomy glass?
Haunting thoughts and flickering metal silence
Cold fingers clutch me from a tomb

Oh take me to a world beyond pain
Where I am perennial and eternally waiting
Where there are no more tears and no pointless lust
And only peace and silence and love
Numb and kind of Stoned
Perhaps enlightened