Tag: Poetry

Narcissism? Nah. (Part 1 of 2)

by sidcorvid

This poem is one of two, both started with the same line, the same idea, but go in very different directions. The link to part 2 will be at the bottom

Narcissism? Nah.
Maybe I’m just better.
Ever considered that?

It’s just a law of nature.
I cannot be recreated or destroyed.

In my essence,
aspirations and material,
I am the dictator of your future.

Thanks for coming out,
Unfortunately we’re at capacity.

Allow to me to clarify,
This isn’t about me.
Forgive me, but you are not needed.

In unity we create a god.
In our spirit we will dominate.

I see the hate in your eyes,
Let me paint this in a different light.
Do you love her?

She doesn’t need you.
Your breath is an offense.

I’m sorry, friend.
This is where we part ways.
Trust me, it’ll be over soon.

 

Part 2 is on my new Facebook page, I’d appreciate any likes, and might run some contest to give away books if I get enough.

Narcissism? Nah. (Part 2 of 2) by Paul E. Wyatt Poetry.

Check out my book:
Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

In search of dominance

by sidcorvid

With stomach achingly empty,

And eyes heavy with not-quite drowsiness,

He recognizes his momentary impotence.

“To gain, once more, an upper hand,

We watch him climb.

Pulling himself towards superiority

With ropes of stimulants and faux confidence.

“They will break, as they always do.

It’s then we will see him fall,

Grasping at any and every thing.

“Let him, watch him die.

He’s not of the breed to survive.

Let’s hope him to fail,

He cannot be allowed to survive.

“What we’re watching thinks his self a god,

In days past, we’d have crucified him

For his crimes of pandering.”

Exhaling dominance with each inhale of hatred,

He gains foothold after foothold,

Staving off exhaustion with drive.

In reaching the peak, he will then watch them fall.

This would be better with speed

by sidcorvid

This would be better with speed,
A couple smokes and some motherfucker
Who wants to step up.

Facing fears of future
With wind barely biting at my face,
Life’s too good to not live.

Laid bare, my eyes close
To reveal the barren nature of
What may come to fruition.
A shiver runs down my spine.

I’m fucking alive.
I’m here, and you can’t rid me
Without violent action.
Good luck with that.

Be it delusions or hallucinations,
I know I’ll walk the tracks,
Cold and lonely, dreading every step,
Relishing every breath.

I’m fucking alive,
Throat tight and holding back a piss,
Tomorrow brings another fix.

It’s been awhile, Book (update)

by sidcorvid

So, some updates.

I haven’t been posting recently, school has been crazy and writing has been hit or miss. I’ve also been putting a lot of work into publishing my first collection of poetry.

The collection is titled Sins and Serenity, and is a selection of some of my favorite pieces of the last year or two. It’s in the final stages, I’m just waiting to receive my proof copy, after which I will make it available for sale. I will post the information on how to get a copy when it is completed.

I’ll follow this post with a new poem, thank you all for reading!

Paulie

A Hero

by sidcorvid

He scratches his scruff
With the barrel of his handgun,
Knowing if he doesn’t clean it soon,
It will jam when he needs it most.

He takes another drag on his smoke,
Another sip of his mud,
No longer shaking at the shells
Exploding in the not quite distance.

He’s ready for his next charge
Over no man’s land.
The Vickers cannot touch him.
The raven flies overhead
And he knows it waits
For carrion; his enemies.

A man falls next to him,
Felled by a sniper’s round.
He is ready.
The order comes.
And he is first out of the trench.
He is first to fall.

His body will be picked clean
By Odin’s messengers,
But he has earned a seat
Amongst the heroes of his race.

Is it already past midnight?

by sidcorvid

It’s already past midnight?

I guess I’ll sleep when I sleep,
Rest’s not that important.

Instead, I’ll keep cadence
Reminiscing on cadence,
Waiting for Taps.

I crumple the sheets, a failure contemplating:
What is it that makes a man?
What struggle overcome?
What prize attained?

I don’t know, dude.
I can’t honestly say I have a clue.
What am I even striving for?

Anyway, it’s over now,
And I’ve gotta move on.

Can’t say it’ll be easy, though.

Is there a rhyme to this?

by sidcorvid

Is there a rhyme to this?
Falling into Theta
With the taste of Xanax in my throat?
I just need another smoke.

I don’t know what I want anymore,
I barely remember my name some days.
Still I’ll stress over the small things.

I’ll still worry about the evanescent manner of your affection,
The calories in my dinner,
The increased rate of my suicidal ideations.

Shit, did I just miss my exit?
Someday I’ll reach the shore,
Maybe drown myself in the ocean,

And embrace the cold embrace of the winter tide.

But that’s thinking too far down the road,

Right now, I’ve just got to get home
Where there’s still scotch in the bottle.