Posts Tagged ‘melancholy’


Last time I stopped taking my antipsychotics

I felt a bit weird and anxious

And started getting obsessed with the rantings of pick-up artists on the internet

I was convinced by their bullshit that I could emulate an Alpha male

I tried picking up every woman I met

And got progressively crazier every day

Antipsychotics make me fat but they also keep me sane

Toxic masculinity belted through my veins

My pores oozed fuck juice

Not a good situation

So I went back on my medication

And started to mellow out a bit

Now I think about beautiful women all the time

But I can control my impulses

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


Cold metal silence
Time stumbles on thick moments
Broken coffee cups
Dirty plates fester
Full ashtrays
Piggies rustling in their cage
Solitary fly sneaked in through an open door
Ease into the armchair
Such exquisite relaxation
Lower back muscles loosen
Roll a smoke
Coughing fit
Curlicues of smoke from mouth
Light incense
Smoke from cigarette and incense forms spiral staircases to nowhere
More melancholy than depressed
But not uncomfortable
Time for a Morrissey album

Ode to Melancholy

Posted: February 25, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , ,

An evil time: everything seems shades of grey, the murdering night bears down upon me.
Is there anything more ordinary, ordinary to the extent of pain, than this moment?
It’s pretty bloody average,
Like fingernails on a blackboard.
The dogs howl for me in the streets for I hide under a mighty sorrow,
The muscles in my back twist with my yoke,
Yet I must drag it on forever beside the winding Lethe,
And shriek at the decaying bones on display around me.
The blackest of nights with no whisper of dawn,
Not a glimmer of hope lights my way.
The cruellest of moments is empty and cold,
And antidepressants cannot fathom this blackness;
No Prozac panacea for the man in the moment.
Every dream ends in an embarrassing failure,
And loneliness lurks waiting to pounce in the blackness.
Why do I have to be this way?
Worms eat my wooden tongue and tumble over into any possibility of tomorrow,
They suck puss through viaducts of longing as they eat their fill.
Each breath is cloying and wasted,
Every exhale is into a vacuum and to no effect.
Cold metal stone permeates every conversation:
No empathy, when all that is needed is empathy.
And even if they would listen,
No-one understands .
Withering poison wind knocks down every impulse to praise or laugh.
The end will come with barely a whisper.
The end will come with vodka and Mogadon.