Villanelle 1

It is my dream that I end in fire.
If only for fear of the forlorn,
Dying without hope or desire.

Having never been a liar,
This claim I won’t adorn.
It is my dream that I end in fire.

I’m nothing, yet, to admire,
But, ‘til the end, I refuse the scorn
Of dying without hope or desire.

My body will someday tire,
It’s then I’ll be set alight, already well-worn.
It is then that I’ll end in fire.

Peace and calm are a myth of the prior,
See Christ, with his crown of thorn
Who died without hope, or desire.

With pounding heart, I know what I require.
Since the hour that I was born,
I have dreamt that I would end in fire,
Free today from hope or desire.

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Be a Man!

I recognize that every breath is a fight,
Gagging on your own blood and all,
But you just gotta hold on.

You’re not done fighting yet.
Open your fuckin’ eyes!
Look at me, you pussy!
You’re not going to die in my arms.

Don’t make me tell your family
All that horseshit about
Memories being timeless
And you, now, living in them.

Be a man!
Suck it up!
Wake up.

It’s too late, though, isn’t it?
Your lips are blue, body stiff.
Please wake up,
Don’t do this to me.

Where’s the poetry in this?
There’s no beauty here.
Why do the birds keep singing,
Serenading this tragedy?

Why would you do this to me?
Why would you rest
When there’s still so much for us to do?

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Burnt to Hell… Just wanna call home…

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Burnt to hell,
This song has me wanting
To make a call home.

I just want to ring up mum,
To See how brother is growing,
To See if sister has met a boy.

I want to sit and watch tv
While brother shoots his plastic guns
And sister frets over makeup before a dance.
Mama is with sister, fixing hair.

It’ll be peace,
With cat purring on my lap,
And birds chirping from their cage.
Everything will be alright.

But, oh forlorn hope,
I’m here, and I’m burnt
And this song won’t end.

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i wish i could wiggle my arms

I wish I could wiggle my arms
under this boundless sky.

I’m lost in transcendent drunkenness,
a fool with a mind.
Synapses firing with alcoholic fervor,
I lie motionless.

The cigarette ashes on my cheek
As I puff with my eyes closed,
But not for too long.

I must stop the dark from spinning.

Wandering and wondering in wanderlust,
I hope we last forever.
I wish you were here now.

But C’est la Vie!
I’ll make do,
and I’ll make do
in accompanied solitude soon.

I see double as autocorrect corrects.
I close my eyes as the sky shuffles.
I fade to black, wondering what tonight will hold.

An oldie

During my forced slumber
I meet my dear.
Alone and afraid.

In the aftermath
I hold her in my arms,
On an end bound train.

She smiles,
Knowing she is mine,
As I am her’s.

Her red dress entices,
Her warmth welcomes me in,
The cold of this hell falls away.

The train screeches to a halt
At the ghastly demon gate,
Hungry, We look for a meal.

A search to no avail.
As the weeks pass,
Perfection peels and pales.

The gaunt face of my love,
That unfed life of mine,
It drives me mad.

The demons laugh as lives end,
As the platform is cleared of all.
I wipe away any traces.

From the wreckage,
The whorehouse of slaughter,
We feed.

I watch her live
As she feeds on the dead.
I eat only when she fills.

Once again my love, My sweetness,
She kisses me with chapped lips.
I taste the blood of our prey.

The metallic taste remains,
As we lie in cold red puddles.
She shivers, and i hold her close.

Alone, We eat as we need,
Keeping the Wendingo at bay.
Awaiting the next train.

Coagulated blood stinks,
The maggots infect our meat,
Still we continue to gnaw on bone.

Our solitude is broken by a beast,
What used to be a woman.
Feeding on our rotting prey.

She scowls at us that there is plenty.
We eat as she gorges.
Her belly fat with human meat.

Flesh is ripped from bone,
Skeletons are shredded,
As she devours innards.

I cast her a look of disdain,
Holding my love near.
We make eye contact, fear.

“Judge me if you will,”
The she-beast scowled.
“You’ve fed too, the Wendingo will be around.”

I smile as I pull my love towards the train,
“We fed to live,
You die to feed”

As the train departs into darkness
My alarm tears me away from my love
And my joy dies into the mundane

A poem for Georgia the cockatiel

A poem for Georgia the cockatiel

Days like today,
Remind me of the past.
Warmth of the cold
A love I hope will last.
You fear I will not answer,
Upon your fearful call.
I would simply die,
If I ever hurt you at all.
I would end others’ to protect yours.
I would die without you.
I fear for you as I fear for myself.
Daily, I fight to get over you.
You are stuck like a wrench in a cog.
My mind will always come back to you.
The fact that you called,
Shows me you feel the same.