Posts Tagged ‘void’

John Berryman

Depraved Piggelie wanted a pile of pot

Laugh Piggelie while your empire falls apart

Cry Piggelie as you mess up your brain

Howl Piggelie to the choir of naysayers

Rupture your sense of entitlement

Cling to a holy and beautiful lover

 

So what of it, Mr Cones,

You pilfer your darling’s sanity

You rest your hand on her pussy at midnight

Why do you think you are so special?

What clockwork conspiracies lurk in your mind?

You are nothing in a void of nothing.

 

Piggelie didn’t know about a universe of pain

A torrent of poison rain

Creep, creep of paranoia

Dead weight of depravity

All converging on the point of the conversation

In spiralling synchrony

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

Depression-1364630455-842-640x480

Sometimes the worst feeling is no feeling at all
Five days past sad
Staring at walls
Struck numb and dumb by the awfulness of it all
A desperate infinite fall
Empty of all passion
Far from compassion
Reamed out shell like an insect exoskeleton
Full of nothing
Void of love
Vegetable man
Hollow, hollow
Without purpose
Dead inside and desolate
No meaning can be formed from a mass of contradictory sensations
No drive or energy
Like a fucked up old shell of a car
Can’t get out of bed
And when a friend asks how I’m doing
I stare into the vast panoply of human suffering
And can only answer
‘I don’t know’