Posts Tagged ‘horns’

seven

 

Morning time four am
Seven rows of teeth
Want a black void
Black as boots
Black as the death of a child

Evening time six pm
Seven bloodshot eyes in fur
Want total totalitarianism
Blood on the streets
And blood in the mouth

Morning time five am
Seven horns of brass
Want a valley full of bones
Slowly reducing to dust
And symbolising the future for all

Evening Time eleven pm
Seven wan but wonderful women
Swoon into the arms of a stereotypical man
Entwine lips in a profound kiss
And know that they are loved

Morning time five am
Seven sexy succubuses
Want to suck out my chi sexually
But the moment of sexual release
Will be worth death

Evening time eight pm
Seven diamond encrusted celebrities
Want so much to be alone
But are stalked by paparazzi and publicists
Until they OD on adoration

Morning time seven am
Seven lonely cleaners
Want to be delivered from their suffering
Earn barely enough to pay the rent
And dream of wealth and education

christ
Twist a string of beads
Around a witch’s waist
Build a crappy tent of bulbous bones
Against the rabid rain

Which pelts poison in your brain
And soon drives you electrically insane
Nerve toxins in the neurons
Birthing paralytic rictus
And quasi simian spasticity

Beat a rubber eel upon a warlock’s wobbly bits
Signify a morbid mountain of madness
Spit upon the surfaces of suppurating melancholy
Dance into the crack within the nothing
Like a stoned fool on smack
They’ll never want you back
Until all is black as boots and empty

Taste a poxy potion of hallucinatory mushrooms
See Christ crucified with the head of a Beast
See the many horns and eyes of the beast
See the real Christ crucified in pulsating pain
See the wood of the cross multiplying across Europe
See the Shroud of Tourin photocopying a saviour
See Christ crucified on every tree
And every tree a Bible
See towering cathedrals of light hidden from mortal retinas
Fractal kaleidoscopic sun structures of infinite intricacy
Bedazzling and befuddling desperately then
Faces without eyes emerge from the void
Like fungus growing from a corpse

Flashes of spark-light phosphorescence against the windows of the skull
Mad carousing reptiles wrap their bodies around a totem pole
Wood hacked to grinning skulls piled to heaven vertical
Fire flickers and the children of light dance their circle
Drums beat a rumbling rhythm that hypnotizes
Summoning old Spirits to bring in a new age

Drumheller Valley Storm Clouds

A poison rain falls on me
I am broken like a forgotten plate
I am shattered like a window by a baseball bat
I am drowning in pain
I am buried in melancholy
So hard to get traction in the mud and the mire
With malevolent crows waiting to pick out my eyes
And vultures circling in a dream of my dead flesh
Behind me a vicious beast pads along
Satisfied in a pace that intimidates
Waiting to eat me up like a potato chip
A beast with horns, a beast with fangs like razor blades
A beast wit foul breath and a stench of rotting meat
Covered in shaggy purple fur with blood red eyes that glow in the dark
My back aches from a multitude of steps in this miserable pilgrimage
I know it will be over soon
Death will come as a longed for kiss
Then silence

The Beast

Posted: August 27, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

beast
Breaking its back the garrulous beast cracks the moonlight in its bones.
The beast has many claws and horns but it still suffers, it still bleeds.
Sucking society through its wounds,
It grunts between spasms of suffering,
Then cries like a sick pony.
Barriers to compassion break down,
Time stands straight as a soldier
Memory and fortune are drunk on whiskey and off carousing.
I wail against the fangs of oppression and the pain of the beast,
For in the pain of the unfortunate beast is all our pain.