Tag Archives: sick

You Don’t Bug Me

Howdy howdy, folks. I’m fittin’ to show y’all a brand spankin’ new poem I’ve just written. It’s about the feelings you get when you’re trying something new. Without further ado…

You Don’t Bug Me

Cicada, cicada,

what do you see?

Much like a dog,

you bark up the tree.

~

Blasted blasphemers

that scheme and abscond…

What do they do

at the edge of the pond?

~

Tempted now

by shadows in the deep,

dip your toes,

and then you weep…

~

But weeping then,

is valorous and honorable

when it is the fragile pen

with which you struggle.

~

In the corner of your ears,

someone hears

the whirring vibrations

that stem from a thousand carnations.

~

And every color of the rainbow

sings a happy lullaby

to that one

happy little butterfly.

Adventures End

Good afternoon, everyone. I have another poem today (shocker). I really hope you like it. Without further ado…

Adventures End

There and back again,

as in the style of old hobbits,

we go and have our big adventures,

on our quest against the dark.

We fight with swords,

we fight with knives,

we sail on ships

and meet old wives.

We’ll tread along the untread paths

and we’ll make friends

and we’ll make enemies

and we’ll fight the dark

and we’ll never lose

till the soles fall off our shoes.

And then will come the cobblestones

that form the path to home.

Why have you fought all this time,

but for to see that little village

and that spongy loam.

Now though,

that you are home,

what is it then?

The thing you must do?

When tyrants bend

and adventures end,

does it all simply go back to normal?

Who is this one that stands before you?

The same one?

The old one?

No, I don’t think so.

Darkest Demesne

Good morning! I hope you guys are ready for a steaming helping of cosmic horror because, boy, have I been cookin’! If you’ve ever enjoyed Lovecraft or you like that movie Annihilation with Natalie Portman, you’ll probably dig this one. Let me know in the comments what you think. Without further ado…

Darkest Demesne

Atop the mountain

lies a fortress.

Beneath the stones,

lies a fountain.

~

Unnatural and indecipherable,

the masonry tells

the story of a being

whose presence trails

the very last of the bells.

~

In the dark,

It comes;

My master.

To quell the living disease.

Upon that stroke of midnight,

I make haste to the gate.

I whisk past maze-like halls

and labyrinthine corridors

to the old and battered door,

covered by runes and chains,

behind which It slumbers.

As I venture deeper into the dungeons,

where no light penetrates,

I begin to hear the distant, disembodied, interminable screams

that haunt my every waking moment;

I come upon the fountain.

The waters glow faintly with a distinct sickly, violescent purple.

My head, again, starts to pound as I draw near,

the intricate designs of the stonework calling out to me,

reaching out, yet again.

A sacrifice must be made.

I draw the sacrificial blade

and move it gingerly to my shaking, outstretched palm.

I make a ragged cut.

As my blood drips into the fountain,

the wailing quiets for a moment.

I am knocked from my feet by a gust of wind that tears at my skin like sandpaper;

all the while, Its howls reverberating throughout these dark and desolate halls.

This formless, black mass, blacker than the dark that surrounds, alights and descends again upon the town below.

It hungers.

It feeds.

I envy them as I watch the color fade from their faces

and the blood drain from their veins into the pool before me,

its purple waters now flowing crimson before my eyes.

I fade in and out of consciousness and find myself again in my bed,

in my chambers.

~

My torturous servitude remains immutable.

I am bound to these old cobbled stones and dark, cobwebbed halls.

I was once the lord of this castle,

but in my hubris,

in my… ambition,

I called upon powers most foul.

I cannot remember the last time I saw the light.

~

Now…

My master.

It calls again.

Purgatorio

Good morning, everybody. Happy Saturday! It’s been another little while since my last post, but I’ve got a really great one for you today. This one throws in a little bit of greek mythology for all you nerds out there. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy.

Purgatorio

Bounding, pounding, resounding…

nothing takes the pain away.

Medicate, premeditate,

nothing takes the shame away.

~

So very still

does he sit,

upon his perch,

looking down at all the things;

“Why,” he wonders,

“are they all so far away?”

~

“The One who put this all together,

can you see the very lies that you have told?”

“Can you see the very lives that you have sold?”

He would ask these questions of that One,

thinking himself so bold.

~

No answers will be given,

only grievance will be wrought,

and on his high-up perch,

he thinks he’ll roll a die.

~

“One to three and I’ll be me,”

he trills to no one in particular.

“Four through six…,”

he laments

as he slowly turns his hand

and the die is cast into the Styx.

Cheap Wine

Afternoon! I’ve started labeling these posts with the poem titles. I figured that might be easier if anybody wants to search. At some point I may go back and rename others, but I also kind of like the titles those posts have. Apt in their application, though outdated now as I have outgrown that period. We’ll see if it comes back. Growth is not a linear process. Without further ado, please enjoy today’s poem.

Cheap Wine

Red wine drips from my lips,

descending now

in a gentle cascade

like the slow dripping of a broken faucet in an old, old house.

How could I ever forget the taste of copper?

Like a mouthful of pennies;

far too hard to swallow.

Should I try it again?

The wine, my dear?

I didn’t like it the first time;

or the second.

Do you think I should try it again?

I’ve no real recourse.

Not now, anyway.

It is as it will be.

Every day the words are harder to find.

I should think that, one day,

I’ll not have them at all anymore.

…

Do you think I should try the wine again?