Posts Tagged ‘metal’

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

Advertisements

The Metal Skull

Posted: September 7, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

metalskull
Tenderness,
Hopelessness,
Dreams of death:
The metal skull is beaten until all the lumps are gone and it shines like a diamond tiara.
The metal skull is beaten until love vanishes and it gleams with apathy.
The metal skull is beaten, forging new nightmare images in its secret brain.
The metal skull is magnetized by random metal thoughts:
Fragments of envy buzz around like flies, attracted magnetically.
Envy is like osteoporosis- it ruins my love and breaks metal bones.
The metal skull is smashed by vile envy.

The broken skull reassembles itself:
Bone joins bone as the skeleton forms and is spray-painted with flesh and skin.
I cannot hate the skull or the body that reassembles around it in my dream when I am conscious-
But when asleep, jealousy boils, envy forms poisonous pustules, love turns green.
Awake there is love, but asleep we are enemies.

eggshell
Bent by time and substances,
Bamboozled by the ache of mediocrity,
I send my poems out to the world
Like desperate letters addressed to lost souls.
Who will reply?
Who will care?
Who can comprehend?
My metal skull reverberates with these thoughts:
Steel echoes and rasping squeals of weasel words,
Amplifying the resonant bong of self-indulgence.
Then I am alone with my musings, whisperings and doubts,
Empty like an egg shell,
Ready to be crushed and thrown in the bin.