Poetry – Page 14 – Theater of Sorrows

Sorrow Crept

There was a moment
When Sorrow crept down
Raw, deep, unkempt and unbound –
Upon your snow white linen skin to wrap her arms around
To provoke from cold, to warm, to singe –
Her purr like a liquor do-me right now, then… let me do you in…
She rained on you in a torrent
As you prayed you would be drowned
Fascinating pain, minus the superficial sound
Soft silken gestures seducing tolerance; Unbound
Fetish murmurs kissed your sins
While your pores drank her in
Down on your knees
You murmured… lover
She, who was unlike no other
Pearl-weathered wings, so soft, to smother
She, such desolation could reveal –
Each minuscule, aching, soulful seal
Your seraphic face turned upward
A dreamy offered being…
Eyes open but not seeing…
Losing control is freeing…
Such a lovely affliction that you could never spurn
Sorrow – your addiction – even as you burn
So pure and true
Your obsession with her haunting
Every scar you’re flaunting
While she keeps on taunting –
On your way to ruin
You still spin, then swoon…
There was a moment
When Sorrow crept down
Raw, deep, unkempt and unbound –
Upon your snow white linen skin as you knelt on the ground
And there as you kneeled
Your truth was revealed
As she swept you with her pain
You held your scars out
Hoping she’d erase your doubt
Rip away from you loves drought
This reverent offering
Was worth bothering…
In this valley
Demons deeming, Saints sainted…
All this Sorrows overrated
Your precious heart she has tainted
Yes she’s familiar, warm and cozy
But without those glasses not so rosy
Peel her from your skin
Drown the evidence in all this rain
Of when you ran naked and unashamed –
Wept 5 seasons of insane
Until the village cast, from sacred scrolls
A spell to give you back control
Remove the oppressor of your soul –

Waste your life on better things of which your bell could toll

Interlude (Bad Seed)

Head against the glass
Stormclouds forming…
I’ve screamed 6 months of madness but made no sound
I am the walking dead; I am insanity spread like raspberry jam, tart yet sweet oxymoron complete
Nothing left to fear because all of my monsters have found me hiding in this creaking town
But I’m working on my illness
With scalpel and acid, razor and wire
Even though you feed my addictions, afflictions, regressions –
My woe…
The madness of my dreams in this love stained room…
Where I’ve slithered down your body
Into your dark hidden basement where sinners confess –
A victim, a sick-dom, an emotional whore…
Mascara-plumed lashes bleeding back tracks down my face
Somehow, there seems to be no way to get around this
Standing in the muck, ankle deep in breach of self
I thought I thought complicity a violation
Fortune cookie expelling obfuscation
Mind askew; I never saw the deadly hue
Crumb trail pointing to a view on disappointment ridge
Darkness in night
Russian fool nesting doll; 13 maniacal grins
We are our own deceptions and delusions

I’ve preferred foggy mirrors…

Rusted eyes, the illogical nihilism of a wounded child
Where did the stars go?
Where do the wounds flow?
Running blind, chasing around a Jungian ghost –
You undress the repressed so carefully, beneath your lovely dark corset…
This indigenous contraption that defines my comfort
Confines, refines, lets free… at my own volition
From foul failings, disenchantments, delinquencies and illusions
Twisted notions, assumptions, devotions
This toil may be bitter, but it reveals silver tears and lacy laughter lining my soul
Still, retching the putridity of times absurd lottery is a constant…
I will crawl to keep –
Stepping into prayer, whatever direction that may seek –
River spirit, Crow warrior, Wind father, Moon goddess, Bee queen
Garden and herb, benevolent pine, nettle and stone, reed and quill, sediment and wood
Mottled with ancient medicines, therapies, remedies; Mettle carry me!
I’ve lost my way among sulphuric visions that fates so clearly shown…
Save me through your eyes, your truth; Ivy to my dormant roots
I’ll take these tattered wings from the corner, and with needle and string
Attempt to stitch myself, carve, bend, pinch myself into a place called home, before I’m gone for good –
Pulling the curtain of stars from the world as I fall backward through the crevice –
And grasping at the cloth reveals I’ve given less than I’m owed
Let me cauterize that which suggests, that possibly
The piece of me you’ve come to see is just a weed some bad seed sowed

Grim Reality

The last left turn
Down this gaunt, chlorophyll hole of radiation phantoms, mangling; Inflicting
Dehydrated anemone dreams, plucked from the serenading sonatas of the mind –
Fairy tale anatomy wickedly impaled with dirty-scissor incisions
Spinal fluid rupture beneath flickering horror movie skylights
Grind and whir, grind and whir, a debate between machinery on the significance of humans
Bone dust-cloud high ushering dilated dismemberment, Visine-clean crime scene; Mistakes are negotiable –
Note addendum: Except for hemorrhaging…
Your autopsy has been scheduled; excuse the shaky hands, you have 31 minutes, no talking
Crows are expiring, candy carbon dioxide hangover with a cherry, fizzy twist –
Pop-splat, pop-splat; Obsidian-snow plumage waterfall migration, but you cant see the trees
For the forest is a serrated, saturated disaster –
This bitter gin wreath of black feathers, a luscious crown of disillusionment, as I
Decompensate, hibernate in a dark corner in the library of desolated dreams, with dislocated eyes
I read new volumes of misery, tomes of abstract mathematical hieroglyphs that make my mind crumble –
Any truth summoned out of desperation is deficient in authentic meaning, and I
Loathe my nauseous psychobabble –
The circle eats itself, and that is all you need to know
Embalmed in this contorted, rotting-winter nursery rhyme
Blonde curls, soft breasts, and rooms of green perfume now silent
I spiral into the next basement psychosis
Mewling vertebrae in the wall; The hedge ghouls are bickering and staggering around wicked corners –
Botched debauchery stabs my eardrums as it retches in the yard, rendering my beliefs obsolete
There is no tender truth here, no coagulation to stop the leaking of my mind –
I have carried all of this unfortunate weight, this ghastly grotesquery. This vulgar Mardi Gras party –
Carnival of the wretched damned
With my taunted, fractured bones
And those murky worms flaunting razor teeth, gnawing through my succulent brain
I push my groaning gravestone, its calamity of words drafted from rancid ink
Webs of pissed waterbugs wasted on lifes vinegar wine…
Stringy fingers of atrocity steal my tears to water the weeds, beneath a stargarden moon
Its shimmering, neon, jasper river, a gasmask-green nocturnal nectar
Precious, like hoarded Demon dew
My disappointments seek mutated murmurs
Distilled deviations of these last abrasive seasons (I beg my reflection in this backward mirror!)
Acid seasons dripping all their color, and then you recognize that the wailing you heard was your own…
How does the moon slip through your fingers, pulling the screaming stars with it?
Amputating the fragrant molecules sliding down the curvature of your naked spine?
Sliding through times quicksand tears, as they drop splintered logic?
The silvery-pink cocoon where you nestled within loves sublime mosaic –
Safe from streetlight demons
10 plus 3 and 3 plus 10 is 13 now, was 13 then; Is truth a fallacy? Or is fallacy a truth?
Epochs archetypes Divinity unwinds, reveals our shadows existence and its tragedy…
My enemy was me