Knives as long as memory
And just as sinful sharp.
We kill our dreams
And waste our lives
Longing for them back.
The blood is dark upon our hands
And gnaws upon our soul.
Our fitful dreams
And fevered days
Remind us what we lack.
Until at last we find a hole
And hide there with a mate.
Strip a child of their dreams
And give them ours instead:
Reassembled memories with glue upon the cracks.
Sunday, October 8, 2017
Thursday, October 5, 2017
Poem: Caoineadh
The earth cries out beneath your feet,
It weeps to see you pass.
And while I wandered in the street,
You danced upon the grass.
I heard your laughter in the air,
It burned my soul like fire.
The sunset shone upon your hair
Like blood upon the lyre.
You passed on into shadowlands,
And left behind your light.
I wrung my crimsoned hands
For I lost you in the night.
It weeps to see you pass.
And while I wandered in the street,
You danced upon the grass.
I heard your laughter in the air,
It burned my soul like fire.
The sunset shone upon your hair
Like blood upon the lyre.
You passed on into shadowlands,
And left behind your light.
I wrung my crimsoned hands
For I lost you in the night.
Thursday, September 21, 2017
Poem: APOCALYPTICA
I wrote this several years ago (probably in 2012 given the reference to the Aztec calendar) but it seems more relevant now than ever... Only for real this time. It's at least partially based on real headlines from various fringe newspapers, as well as some things that were actually happening. Really, the only thing I added were references to 14 and 88 (because apparently it's ok to be an ACTUAL NAZI now seriously what is wrong with America) and our Glorious Orange Cheeto-in-Chief...
The end is nigh!
Rapture! New World Order!
Apocalypse now!
Moloch!
Ragnarok!
Y3K dread!
Avian mad cow disease found in pork!
Skynet approaches singularity!
Aztec calendar runs out!
Yellowstone eruption!
Mushroom clouds approach!
Stay indoors!
Hoard gold bricks!
Stockpile ammunition!
Radiation! Tribulation!
Jackbooted thugs of 666!
God hates!
Microchips!
Burn books!
Ignorance is bliss!
Chants of 14 and 88!
Sex is the right of men!
North Korean nukes!
Gunshot children are crisis actors!
Godless CommieFascists!
Entanglement in hopeless war!
Foreign oil shackles!
Cultural disintegration!
9/11 an inside job!
Government doublespeak!
Collateral damage!
Boots on the ground!
No boots on the ground!
Child molesters next door!
Satanic backmasked messages!
Hilary a lizard alien!
Deranged Cheeto on the throne!
The end is nigh!
* * * * * * * * *
The end is nigh!
Rapture! New World Order!
Apocalypse now!
Moloch!
Ragnarok!
Y3K dread!
Avian mad cow disease found in pork!
Skynet approaches singularity!
Aztec calendar runs out!
Yellowstone eruption!
Mushroom clouds approach!
Stay indoors!
Hoard gold bricks!
Stockpile ammunition!
Radiation! Tribulation!
Jackbooted thugs of 666!
God hates!
Microchips!
Burn books!
Ignorance is bliss!
Chants of 14 and 88!
Sex is the right of men!
North Korean nukes!
Gunshot children are crisis actors!
Godless CommieFascists!
Entanglement in hopeless war!
Foreign oil shackles!
Cultural disintegration!
9/11 an inside job!
Government doublespeak!
Collateral damage!
Boots on the ground!
No boots on the ground!
Child molesters next door!
Satanic backmasked messages!
Hilary a lizard alien!
Deranged Cheeto on the throne!
The end is nigh!
Monday, September 4, 2017
Poem: Slow Summer's End
Heat-thick
air and the scent of
mown grass
As
an old man trims golf-course lines into his
lawn.
lawn.
A
lone heron over the dry-grass slough,
One
circling black dot just above the vivid divide
Between treeline and sky.
Dust-motes
hang in the becalmed air,
Drifting
among heatlines rising
Off
the neighbor's tin roof.
Save
for the insects, nature is silent.
Sunday, September 3, 2017
Consume, the Journal of a Dreamwalker: Final Entries
NINETIETH TOTEMPHATHT
This almighty titan knew much, and its
power consumes me.
But for all its power and knowledge, the
lingering titan-self cannot satisfy my desire. Instead I have been filled with
an aching void which demands substance I cannot provide. Is this how the
deiphagists feel in the end?
FIRST UNKEMSPRECHT
Today I glimpsed a mirror. I did not
recognize myself. My skin was pale, and my face was not my own. What have I
become?
FIFTY-SIXTH UNKEMSPRECHT
I was searching for something. Something
important. Can’t seem to remember what it was. Once, though, I was a titan.
SEVENTIETH UNKEMSPRECHT
I don’t remember my name…
FIRST LUONG
My name is Akhule Otimnhir. Eons ago I
ruled a thousand stars. Now, I am reborn.
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Status Update
I'm not dead. Never was. Unfortunately.
I've been working on some larger projects that, combined with work, have managed to make sure I haven't posted anything on here.
I've been working on some larger projects that, combined with work, have managed to make sure I haven't posted anything on here.
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