Tag Archives: night

Paradoxical Paradigm

Good afternoon, everyone! It has been a long while since I’ve posted on a Sunday. I hope you all have had a wonderful weekend, and for those starting their Monday on the other side of the world, I hope you have a wonderful day. The sentiments of this piece may seem vaguely familiar, the stench of indecision and ambiguity being one we might all recognize. Please enjoy, my friends.

Twisted Memories

The last dream I had?

No, I…

I cannot remember it.

I must be mad.

It sang to me once,

that one dream I dreamt,

but now is lost to me

unsynchronized,

without harmony.

No truer words were spoken,

no more valuable a token

had ever once been given.

If only I…

If only I could remember

the shapes those words resemble.

My heart beats in time with drums

which, in turn, compete with hums

that reverberate and kiss me ‘till I’m numb.

How did I ever find the time,

adhering to that awful paradigm?

I only wished for a simple sign.

Trying New Things

There’s never a time when trying new things is not exciting. Recently I’ve been trying many new things, as much as possible. I’ve started writing more short stories, or perhaps excerpts of stories based on the influences I see in the world around and the work of others. Personally I think this new one is neat-o. Be warned though, it is pretty gross. Horror warning. Please enjoy.

A Man Would Scream

What am I? Trapped in a hell that feels simultaneously my own and one created by yet another monster, I scream and cry and gasp until that last little bit of air comes out. My words are cut short; my rending howls transform, slowly, into that low, uncompromising, pitiful gurgle. Perhaps if one saw my putrid, broken form, this mass of stinking flesh and hateful decay, perhaps they might believe there is a man left within. They might believe there is something left to save. There is nothing.

I am screaming. I am screaming and yet I have no mouth, no eyes, no face. I am but a featureless mass, resigned to and constrained by a fate which an unjust God has set upon me, only that when it is wolves that descend upon you in the forest do you get to die. The soft, agonizing gurgle they hear coming from this pile of meat that once was me is both my only release and my eternal torment. I do not even know that you are there.

For all eternity, it must be remembered. Those sins which I have done. Those evils which I have wrought, piercing me over and over like a Tailor who just can’t get the patch right. There is no penance for the deeds I count among mine. I deserve this. I deserve to suffer.

Leave me be, for I am not a man.

Before The Morning Comes

Good morning, friends and all. I have not been especially prolific as of late, but I hope that means the quality of my work is increasing. Please enjoy the poem today. I like it quite a bit.

Shut Eyelids

Oh darling,

my love,

it is not you that i love any longer,

but a refraction, a mirror image,

one mark of a great love lost and gone away,

but one that I see and make real every time I close my eyes still.

You are not the one that haunts my dreams.

You are not the one who stalks my memories,

the one who flits and flutters under shut eyelids.

You are not that one.

Now they are gone,

forever lost to those greats engines that grind the sands of time.

I only wish that when it was you,

in that body of yours,

that you had decided to stay.

It could not be so.

Cannot be so.

Forever lost,

to I and yourself,

that love of ours

that made me so sad.

Much Ado About What To Do

Welcome back! My first post in July. A crazy month, it’s been. I have been busy at work and trying to center myself which of course are both massive time-sinks. I hope everyone has had a wonderful few weeks despite my absence from that little corner of your mind I usually occupy. Please enjoy the poem today! This one is a new favorite of mine.

A Real Boy

Falling through into the floor

and open there below, a door

that lies beneath the writhing ground

all atop the burial mound.

Inconceivable,

a child

never born

and never made

without a mother,

but some other.

It haunts and taunts,

lies and cries,

hears and speaks

as a child would,

as children do…

Eyes of glass

and flesh of polymer,

but listen as it speaks

for it opens the door that creaks.

Listen as its blood,

from the windows of its soul,

leaks.

Believe the truth.

The boy but says

those things which are his.

All those things

which have always been

and will always be

His.

Perhaps you’ll show him some compassion

as you listen to his story?

To know the things that you can know

as you sink down deeper and deeper below?

He only wants to help.

He does not know who you are!

…

Perhaps you are the monster in the dark?

Turn The Page, Open The Door

Not much to say today but good afternoon! I hope everyone’s having a wonderful pride month and is getting outside as much as possible. Please enjoy the poem today, friends.

Phases

Does your heart trace a thousand laces?

Does your heart lie and die in knots?

And it rots as you can tell by the spots?

Does your heart pace a thousand places?

Wondering and dundering,

ever the old fool?

Whose tool you break and shake like a fool?

Does your heart race a thousand races?

Fiddling and falling in broken arms and torn heels?

Spinning and spooling, of fate, those wheels.

Perhaps, this time, you’ll be the one that steals.