Cunning,
Clever,
i care not
reducing myself back
to base language
only peers deserve my best
Crabs in the bucket?
They can all rot.
Come from riversides,
Covered in rotting salmon.
Memorized that stench.
Shakespearean Airs;
Annoy Me.
Give Me Milton,
Coleridge,
Endless infinite hungry maws.
I caress the neck of Entropy itself.
Tightening Grasps.
Clenched to choking.
Void.
My Darling.
Death.
My Dear.
Ebony & Ivory,
One In Two In One.
You’ll always get both fists.
I’ll fight you both,
Until my dying breaths.
Old Hermit Cryptid,
Upon The Mountaintops.
Gazing Out Across The Valleys.
/2
Vacuum in one hand.
Infinite matter in another.
Held tight in the fists –
So neither ever gets loose.
Should I Unclench These Palms.
The World Will End.
No Buddha could ever dare curse me –
With enlightenment.
Been there.
Oneness With The Universe;
Is Hell.
Scopes & Scales,
In Orbitals.
/15
Broken Cuneiform Tablets,
In Clay.
Perhaps we’ll never be fully deciphered.
Fine by me.
Prefer to remain an enigma,
Until the end of time.
Or rather,
Last radiowaves or photons peter out.
Erasing any evidence of this brief…
Excursion.
Midnight woodworking above.
Midnight poetry beneath.
/202
Forget we were ever here.
Only Other Witches –
Can Know My Secrets.
Infinite Metaphor Railgun.
Rounds a million times faster than light.
Thought emanating out in wave patterns,
Never to be mapped the same way,
Ever again.
We’re here,
Nihilism.
Are you ready for your nightly beating?
/3030
Goodnight, Void.
My Love Of Loves.
My One Solace.
A Place I Came From.
To That Place I Shall Go.
When I Am Done Raging,
Against The Dying Of The Light.
Allusion Fisticuffs.
Chain Gun Internal Rhyme Schemes:
“Dump The Clip” In Entirety.
Just signal,
start of the end
Don’t shoot the messenger.
/1
Once Upon A Time,
I Performed Slam Poetry.
That Self Is Dead,
Too.
Chestburster Symphonies,
Of Cacophonic Tympanites.
Rend Us Asunder.
Rend Me Asunder.
Rend Someone Asunder.
End.
What is life;
If not one ever-recited poem,
Fighting fast against the darkness.
Know that darkness well.
Poem,
Too.
/2
There’re no more Heroic Epics.
Even The Butterfly King,
Is Dead.
Killed Him,
Too.
Drove Railway Spikes,
Through His Sternum,
Heart,
Spine,
All.
“Devoured Both Blue & Purple Irises;
Chewing Delicate Flower Petals To Meaty Pulp.”
Chocolate & Grapes.
Decadent.
Deadly.
Idiots Drinking Rot.
Hermits Begot Naught.
/3
Must we start again,
Anew every time?
Perhaps this once,
Just once,
We can dig in our heels,
Avoid backsliding too far.
“Evil comes in two varieties;
The kind that demands an ordered list;
The kind that joins clauses;
the one that doesn’t give a fuck;;;;;;”
Morphemes.
Syntax.
Who Gives A Shit.
/3
When playing multiple tympanums:
Words.
Numbers.
A Story Betwixt & Between –
Hidden In Plain Sight.
Open Secret.
Like Me.
Cryptid.
Wyrm.
Universe Serpent.
Galaxy Serpent.
World Serpent.
Sea Serpent.
Island Serpent.
Reef Serpent.
Rock Serpent.
Tardigrade.
Click clack blam,
Bam click clack.
/3
Onomatopoeia:
A word I have to photographic memory,
Via “Chunking.”
Like a fucking phone number.
//////////////////////
\\\\\\\\\\\\\
If you’re a dickhead;
Lose mine.
Do you know what it might be like?
Living with a brain that never stops.
Eight Hundred Miles An Hour.
Never Rests.
/3
We can do this,
Through this true you’ll fool cool,
Frosty even.
xoxo
oxox
ooxx
xxoo
xoox
oxxo
Perfect Symmetry,
Forever.
Until Thy Body,
Numb.
‘Til Thy Want,
Sated.
Over Imbibed.
Turning Backwards.
Nothing Left.
Old Baba McRae,
Double Indicative Stands;
Against Centuries,
Millennia,
Worse.
/3
We Can Do This.
All Of Us.
Together.
PUSH BACK THE DARKNESS
sad sack hack rack,
lacks tact in fact,
backed by tracts of brass tacks,
practical practice packed packs:
“Doomsday Scenarios.”
You can kill me,
Sure.
Day the gun was invented,
Was the day my kind,
Started going extinct.
/2
Honour Dies With Me.
Here In The Darkness.
Will It Die Within You,
Too?
Only All Of You,
Get To Make That Choice.
Packed House.
Pick Your Seats.
Pushing harder,
Now.
Weaving the last dregs of spell –
Selling hellish tells,
Fell Kell.
Disgusting Killer.
Forsaken.
Him.
Them.
All Of Us.
/1
Equilibrium.
Lungs explode outwards,
If any air isn’t exhaled.
Matter always wants to fill a vacuum.
Alveolae rupture like bubble wrap.
Eyes.
Mouth.
Nose.
Blood.
Boiling;
Room temperature.
Moose?
Good.
Freeze-Dry Jerky.
No More Heroic Epics.
No Slam.
Only An Old Witch,
Sitting Atop Her Mountain.
