#69

secreting a saline soliloquy
while the tambour calls to war
immersed in inferno insurgency
riding shotgun ‘bove rapid ichor

vaguely expressing the pressure
behind a stiff kamikaze gale
deters not the coming agressor
or the inexorable coffin nail

mannequin’d from mental vacuity
as the terror takes its toll
resigned to wishful torpidity
panic’s stealing another soul

the battlefield suddenly empty
waiting in a room now mine
until the counter calls to me
now serving number sixty-nine

Company

The inkwell tumbles over welkin and wit;
her seething susurrations invite slumberous disregard.
The puissant voluptuary,
the sadist,
the con,
swallows me with magmatic lips,
melting resolve and self-control.

Fervid angst transudes through saucers
into lacustrine stains
and chilling horripilation;
restrained by fists of silk and ichor ropes.

She chases me through my tenebrous id,
past the inescapable eyes of lecherous flies,
the cunning guise of treacherous lies,
and emotional moors of sanguinolent dyes.

Her torment reigns until sunlight laves the room,
and she discards the ossified remains
of this tremorous calyx.

I watch in awe, rent and raw, through smaragdine diaphaneity,
as others wake from restful repose. And I wonder how…

Yet,
ever alone,
I anticipate nightfall, lachrymal, and her unwelcome company.

Fret

With blood encrusted fingertips

Beneath her shattered fingernails

An unbreakable determination

Fills wide her billowing sails

She continues to fret the layers

Each stroke deeper than the last

Ignoring those, unwilling souls

To see beyond his troubled past

She knows what lies behind the pain

Of his brick and mortar pall

And soon she’ll pull the final block

From his ever weakening wall

Lolita

Lovely, little Lolita
Could find solice only in dreams
So she’d ride salvation’s needle
Leaving behind the screams

The trips would give her power
She’d do anything night or day
To follow the tracks to dreamland
For it’s where she was dying to stay

Coven Three

My life controlled, by a coven of three
The fear, the sorrow, the hate for me
Hope is now hidden, in my heart’s enclave
Alone it does rot, as my mind’s own slave

I’m locked in these chains, by enemies mine
The key was cast forth, into future’s time
My past’s dark shadows, over me loom
And pain of present, foretells a doom

Cursed by my doubt, is weapon one
Frozen in place, and nowhere to run
Struggle with thought, focus a pest
Mind ever racing, and no time to rest

Drowning in sadness, is weapon two
Lacking all joy, and options are few
Happiness is lost, in simplest tasks
While hiding the pain, in smiling masks

Consumed by loathing, is weapon three
No love for myself, so you can’t love me
All that’s gone wrong, is ever my fault
Before healing starts, it’s put to a halt

But hope does still shine, though faintly so
Hiding in my heart, and waiting to grow
It lights the way, to the lock’s only key
Still there is time, to set myself free

The answer is clear, to unlocking the gate
Let go of the fear, the sorrow, the hate
Look to the future, hope lighting the way
While blinding the past, it keeps darkness at bay

*written/posted in 2012, when I first attempted writing…that’s my excuse