Decided...If you've discovered this profile by accident you can view my real stuff here. [link]
Thanks for letting me waste your time.
Barren HarvestBarren harvest season bestows me only bitter apples biting through the moldered layer to seed and core tasting much sournessBarren Harvest
I long for winter's comforting ways
Radiance FadesMournful in our final parting as death rises to greet her one last sigh as radiance fades and turns to ashen whiteRadiance Fades
Taken from my side once again I deny her life's end purulent rage overtakes me scarlet sight, senses numb no mercy, for my wrath they awake no forgiveness for them no matter my life or outcome
And I wait upon the gallows this brooding sorrow bleeds darker than black
tattered promises, fleeting light at my very end, I regret nothing
Then, regard a vision of her as life withers from me More than just a fleetin
System OperatorSystem OperatorSystem Operator
Seraminthos, together we wrap our
tainted optical glasses
in icey wire connectors, to conduct the masses pinned by monsterous geometry down in the Seraminthos System
inside the blood of silver, the transmit, and electrons the crimson dream conduit reflects the surging path down in the Seraminthos System
take this metal from my lips
take this brittle hand, compose the wildness of this inhuman world
cryptic corpses undead inside
the Seraminthos world is mine
down in the Seraminthos System &
Collage of ProphecyCollage of ProphecyCollage of Prophecy
paperish bone petals close
whirlwind flesh face
watches all, mocks death
betrays the sunbeing beneath beneath flesh blood and bone
suffocated seed and core incriments the geometry of hate. forsake cheated truth, miser. suffer and harvest the fatal fruit the losses begin distribution
sorrow language, articulate wrath invades night and lies by desert sand nomad\'s ancient mystery released despised, beholds the story spirit again to capture the nomad mystery retribution, the tale lives again
© 2
"K" is for VirginalYou are a textbook replication of a slighter Plath and Hughes, drawn daily through a contemporary intro-Southern collective jar and with a geminated bite and sphere at your freshly-picked fingertips,"K" is for Virginal
hanging fire like bed sheets with poetry-peppered papers on a clothesline of aberrances, sharp thumbtacks of unfinished prose delaying some other thing, casual stings, Greek recipes.
You’ve cloistered yourself in a trapdoor oven with a lightly-curtained laugh, sputtered oven light glaring so that a single passerby can ensure that you don’t cook yourself to a lighter colorless
Art of the Onward MarchAnd here you are, perched on the eaves of your fathers' understanding, ripening in folly as the chorus swells.Art of the Onward March
Like an heir to Babylon you meditate on the melting of peoples sloughed into your flaming voice and hands.
This is your manifesto, artist of broken lampposts and husks of homes, streets
where metal whines like
mangled mongrel dogs still limping
roads emptied behind the crackling gravel of your many, many brushes.
Your calligraphy is stroked in slanted reds and browns, ink leaning from the force of your latest, brightest work.
Benedictions!
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
Is that your eye?
Benedictions.
--
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery.
- T.S. Eliot 'Reflections on Vers Libre' 1917 [link]
--
Seek and ye shall find.
--
morningrise.net - hive destruction
Very nice--deep, resplendent... Heh, I mean refulgent. I had already used resplendent this week.
I love your patterns of mood in all of your poems, even almost enough to make me envious. Beautiful work none the less, I hope there's much more to come.
Ta!
Have a nice day.
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