Melancholia 1

Arching Arms Aching

Frigid bitter morning
Will these hostile days never take their vile taunts and retreat?
Raging torment biting my tender mind, gnashing, crushing every hopeful thought
And I, I sit in this decrepit corner, listless
Useless wit, senses devoid of articulate ingenuity
I am withering, wearing my cloak of funeral shadows
Ink-stained fingers screaming in protest, curling like the Eastern witches pointy shoes beneath that razing house…
This bloated desk smirking, crumpled pages, half fed, demand my crucifying
The empty, dusty air drifts into seedy corners that screech my fears without mercy, each time I shift in my chair –
Sinking further into this drafty void, this hollow, lonely nowhere… alone…
Between the light I falter
Webbed, shadow tentacles scratch fissures in this crisp air, and the borderland exhales its oblations –
Provocative demon sliding through the cracks –
Lips wet against my lobe, it hisses in my ear; You hide behind the curtain
I succumb to the rotting in my head, and wander in a wasteland of disease
My mind riddled with tunnels from this spectre, this vinegar worm, chewing ravenously
I am a timepiece leaking minutes, while recorded minutes fade
Disappearing… making a ghost of myself…
There is no voice as warm and sweet, yet cold as mine, licking at my wounds with its acid saliva
Like a bitter herb mulled into tea of which I drink
Each sip a betrayal of myself
I take hatchet to my fingers, for what use are they if I have no words to write?
Even when I’ve written them; They are monstrosities, bulbous caricatures lacking and absurd
I pierce my own armor
Whiskey sours swilled to notes of blue melancholia dappling my mind
No better angels to compel in me a faith when lifes unkind
I take cigarette to gasoline and tend to stagnant poetry
Burning hot, like a dried out scarecrow among parched stalks
Piles piled high, like intestines climbing to the sky…
Dour eyes, ankle deep in this wintry mix of jewel-encrusted snow –
Peering through the frosty glass with baited breath, they caw, these nosy crows
Fingernails tapping on the rim of this nearly empty glass
Liquid fire burns like hell in summer
But its good for aches, and shakes, and worthless dreams
Clink, clink, clink, then take a drink –
Clink, clink, clink, like a church bell promising saving grace
Or, at the very least, a respite from the mundane in this madness
I lean into the keys, so sweetly sensuous beneath these liquored, impaired fingertips
Where are the seething, growling, gutting words? Why do I betray, devour myself?
The ruthlessness of my own thoughts sucks me down bone by bone
These empty months have untangled me, as in the mirror I seek my soul, but find
A reflection halved in two; the human, and the Grendel –
Bleeding isolation, howling desolation
I can no longer speak
Oh… these pages crisp and winter white, yet bare
My voice fades in the air of yesterday
I howl into this nothingness
I howl into this emptiness
I howl

We are born, innocence shining briefly, like a shooting star
My oh my
How the world spins such wickedness into gold
Crushing spirit into lies
Cutting out ecstatic eyes
And then one morning you believe what you’ve been told

Stillness of Grief

This stillness of grief
Like a soft veil caressing my skin
Comforts yet tears – shreds
What lies within
At times I claw
Try to find a way out of myself
Leaving more wounds inside
That have no sound to imply…
This stillness of grief –
Seems a very strange thing
No help from the Universe
No salve to calm the burn
The pain masked behind my eyes
Raining tears down my throat
Still can’t calm the fire –
Smoldering, sooty, rubbly – as I choke
No revision for these words
No voice to be heard
A soft place to land
A blessing and curse
Stealing my lonely breath
Demanding my spirit; acquiesce
As my fractured heart withers like time
My soul forgetting that it’s divine…

This disparagement of love
Cupids arms overwhelmed, exhausted with sorrow
And I; in my grief I dismiss my significance
If I had meaning, or enough meaning
Would this catacomb be a sacred resting place?

This stillness of grief
Is unlike in the past –
Where raging and wailing were thrown from me –
Cast
Through the night and the valley, down walls, over fences…
Unveiling my haunting with no recompenses
Now I lay torn and crumpled, like a leaf beneath a stone
Hope, a ghost – forlorn, dismissed, wandering without a home
Where love should be soft, where love should be sweet
Instead there are barbs, rusted wire gouging me
As my hurt creeps inside this twisted cage crushing my heart
The cherished faith that love abides busted apart
Raging tears form a sea where I wish I could drown
Get lost in this burnt landscape with its sorrow bleeding down
But there’s nowhere to hide, no great escape from loves wounds
Even death won’t end this agony much too soon
This stillness of grief at this moment defines me
It’s all I know, all I feel, all I am… All I see
Turned within, flowing through yet pushed down, deep into –
Where no one else could ever bear to be
Lost although I seek…
This stillness of grief

Poet

Mesmerizing Mauve Membrane

I’ve been pacing in my shadow
I’ve been killing all my poems
Walking the words backward
In this valley of the bones
There’s no subtle way of leaving
Spongy walls of blue despair
Carve the feeling of your distance
Deep into this static air
I’ve been sensing my own murder
Since my grief is running mad
And it’s ripping up my memories
Like they’re just a current fad
How to shake all of this dust off
Is, in truth, anybodies guess
I’m all alone despite my own company –
In this existential mess
Tried to extricate my lack of meaning
Although I loathe this absurd need
To form words into some semblance of beauty
Some sense of fleeting dreams…
A kaleidoscope in motion
Yet my souls a wordless ocean
Time is sinking quickly into
Hopeless sands of my corrosion
I’ve been acting like a cliché
Stuck and drunk in my debris
Wallowing in rootlessness
Since my words have deserted me
An empty, undone poet
Spewing misery that turns this dim air blue
I’ve no more words, and thus no voice, no soul
Just this cup of bitter brew
Damn this vile inconvenience
That’s erupting in my chest
Until my mouth is spewing
Consonants of emptiness
All you specters, all you demons
Now you’re hiding under veils
You’re such narcissistic dwellers
When the pains not up to scale
Where’s my sweet, sad, sullen song?
Where’s my moody blue impression?
Even though my fingertips are bleeding –
I’ve no poetical confession!

At my desk, leather scent of tomes heavy in the air
Beyond the window; I’ve searched the sky for weighty words
Dreamt that I could countless times move souls
To the extent that they might rejoice or weep, or deeply yearn…
But I lament I’ve failed to paint the endless sky
With bridges leading to my beloved shades of greys and blues
Oh, just to hold a pen that once again leaks inky words of lonely, morbid woe
There is nothing that I wouldn’t do