Tag Archives: verse

An Omitted Verse In The Hallowed Scripture

Standing in the shade of altruism, answering the call
Came a modern messiah to save us all
Something far beyond a work of fiction, positronic brain
A world that’s void of all the anguish and suffering, pain
Better tame your convictions before you go and open the cage…

~*~

They implore and beg, don’t sabotage

The remains of another obsolete adage

Waiting solemn for the raptured corpses

To be assembled, attempted, reattached

But the nightmare deceived in penance

Praying covet as pharisees emblazoned

Gods in faux gold, built another temple

Forfeiting all the impure jezebels stoned

And their towers and citadels crumbled

Under a quelled weight of Samson’s sins

Killing a million innocent for the penalty

Of what one iniquitous man wrongly did

The holy writ mutated and twisted again

As a biblical rain unrelentingly poured in

Leprosy-sore mouths of those calling for

A prophetical saviour which never arrived

The testaments old and new burned in ashes

Back to dust, where man belongs and returns

And as the serpent’s fruit was once again bitten

Divine paradise opened up to show promised horror all along.

~*~

We’re creating God, master of our designs
We’re creating God, unsure of what we’ll find
We’re creating God, in search of the divine
We’re creating God, committing suicide…

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Odes And Dedications

I’d write you a million letters

You left me at a loss for words

Halfway around the world, yet

You stole my breaths unfurled

.

I’ll compose until my hands ache

And my quill protests ‘no more’

Until I dried up all the ink I have

And literates stop keeping score

.

I’d write you in ballads and sonnets

Limericks, haikus, and silly rhymes

I’d write you odes and lengthy epics

That shall withstand the test of time

.

And all the troubadours and minstrels

Will speak of your name for centuries

Immortalised between yellowing pages

Of prose and verse and lines of poetry

.

I’d write you a million novels and books

‘Til I run out of words to use in every language

And even then, it still won’t fully express

Just how much you truly made this bard change.

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Verse End Chorus

“But it’s gone too far, your butane mouth will spit me into flames
Sorry ’bout it, I can’t help it, I’m an anarchist in love…”

~*~

just how much do

i admire every

verse and chorus?

darling, it’s lethal

like the catalyst

to a stained disease

and intruders

leaving footsteps

all over my red arteries

distractions of

the remedy dangling

behind the knives

at the very edge

of all my fingertips

dislocating broken bones

hurting me madly

yet i suffer jubilantly

if only for sedition.

and i do not lust

for tactless fantasies

it’s just far too artificial

and segmented

and drawling cliché

for me to take in earnest;

the scissors bite

deeper within my veins

and my blood is far

more crimson than pale

for such contrivance.

this adoration of mine

is unconditional

and a cold withdrawal

and it is sempiternal

as their mercurial eyes

taint my clouds

and crash them again,

affecting a hazier

fog in my ponderings,

painting my day with gold,

disturbing my nights

with daydreams.

though; i do not seek

superficiality, nor

the obscenity, nor

an intravenous

palette of emotions

to fulfill my sorrows,

contradict confrontations,

and substitute for

my own subconscious.

i’m too wasted to

be sober on the lights

of a reluctant soul

i’m intoxicated again…

i stray from orbital passion

yet i am drawn into

each unspoken reverie

and my limerence

is quite liquid and lithe

as it paints the lettered canvas

for their blank horizon.

and dear, i can simply hope

to sell all of my stars to

remain in the cheap seats

wishing that someday,

your songs will stretch

past the universe of infinity

and reach my eyes—

and i’m fervently faithful that

in another eternal dawn,

i shall gather enough sturdy rungs

in my concatenated ladder

to finally reach my melancholy

darling blue moon.

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Vestigial Vices

Victim of a system

Voices of a broken

Values falling then

Volume invalid ten

Victorians vulgarity

Vision vulnerability

Violation or vulture

Valleys on ventures

Vessel of vagabonds

Volition valium land

Vindication, lo again

Verses veiled spoken.

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Earth Angel

I disappeared last night
While sleeping in my bed
A field of lavender beneath my head
Another planet, I’ll try to map it
No user interface
It won’t escape me again…

~*~

You fell away from time

Hurtling through space

The people who saw the

Carnage thought it was

Another stray meteorite

.

The sight was sublime

Past clouds you raced

The crater you’ve left a

Deep permanent gash

Standing lone at night.

.

And you softly gaze up

At the dark bruised sky

As pure white feathers

Rained like fresh snow

From your scarred back

.

You drown in coffee cups

You dissolved sugary lies

And the crimson weather

Is dripping faint and slow

In your empty pen and pad.

.

A rejected earthen angel

What were you now to do

But blend within the realm

That they’ve dropped you

Into and be a normal being

.

You taught yourself well

Sometimes miss the clue

Lost your power’s helms

Exchanged into your new

Found emotional standing.

.

Amalgamations profound

Of prose in your halo head

As you pluck tiny narcissus

From their Garden of Eden

As if it is but your quiet sin

.

Luna’s light the only sound

Raven shadows you’ve wed

Your bleak sanity’s detritus

Loneliness your own poison

Tired in the worn human skin.

.

And the humming starlings

Disturbed your soul ponders

So you slam down windows

Hoping badly to shut out all

The rest of the lost universe

.

Your lacerated broken ivory wings

Are starting to growing back hither

As clearest veins’ pulsate and flow

Into a leathery black, and stars fall

As you write another hushed verse.

~*~

Don’t wake up
I’ll be here for centuries
Sweet magnetic energy
Nothing quite like this ever has existed
But God knows how I missed it
Gravity is losing its hold
I can feel it fading…

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Midnight Oil: A Pantoum

(A first attempt at creating a pantoum.)

~*~

The midnight oil burns even darker

The battered quill in quick rotation

He struggles for sense, the weary writer

Wishing to create a sweet affectation

.

The battered quill in quick rotation

Ink blotted and sombre words spilled

Wishing to create a sweet affectation

Seeds of imagination planted and tilled

.

Ink blotted and sombre words spilled

And his lost sanity slips even further

Seeds of imagination planted and tilled

But he overdosed on madness and fertiliser

.

And his lost sanity slips even further

He struggles for sense, the weary writer

But he overdosed on madness and fertiliser

The midnight oil burns even darker.

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Filed under Fixed Poetry, Poetry