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Ghosts

Dark settles on the walls, the street lamp blinks some  
light, then dies, then blinks again. A moth- stuck inside  
the room- pares its wings on the glass, falls to the  
windowsill, then does it again. My eyelids do the same.    

I remember his mouth; how the ghosts under  
his tongue slid through the cracks of his teeth,  
found mine. Stayed there. And the birds at the  
backs of our eyes drank too much to leave.    

He told me there's a life of everything, somewhere  
else; one that isn't made of feathers or concrete.  
I'd be the flayed moth that made it through the glass,  
He, the sun, and my guts would be warmed under him.    

i'm not even tryin to post after ghosts.......

Beautiful Monster-

Digging, digging, robbing graves,
But things like rings aren't what I crave.
I need something much more grotesque,
Like arms and legs and hands, a head.
I'm building something, like a friend,
To help this loneliness to mend.
I'm almost done now, just need a face,
The most Beautiful in all the graves.
I found it on a rotting bride,
Long, brown hair and skin so white.
You could say Love at first sight,
But I would say wait till tonight,
When thunder rolls and lightning strikes,
My beautiful Monster will be alive.

There she lay upon her bed,
Beautiful friend without a head.
Her pieces perfectly in place,
It's time to give my friend a face.
I sewed Her head on so gently,
Such Love and Care is in those strings.
I sat there for a moments time,
Admiring what's soon to be mine.
Now I've but to await the storm,
And think of my new friend reborn.
While waiting I cant help but stare,
She looks so peaceful laying there.
She doesn't seem dead, just lost in dreams,
Waiting to wake to new things.
In the distance thunders crash,
It's here to wake her up, at last!
I prepare her on a slab,
Connecting wires, pulling tabs.
Thunder crashes, lightning strikes,
The room lights up, then dark as night.
I'm worried things did not go right,
I'm worried she is not alive.
The lights returned, to my surprise,
I found her gone, no where in sight.
As I turned to begin my search,
My deep, dark eyes met up with hers.
She grabbed me and I screamed inside,
Fearful that she'd take my life.
But no, she only offered me embrace,
Just then I saw inside her Grace.
She held me and began to cry,
As if She took my pain inside.
She said "I Love You", gave me a kiss,
I knew I found the Love I'd missed.
But with Her Love came such a woe,
And pain I think nobody knows.
She saw a mirror, saw herself,
Then gave a scream that came from Hell.
She broke the mirror, grabbed a shard,
And stabbed herself right in the Heart.
I screamed and cried to no avail,
There she was, lifeless and pale.
I have no Hope now that she's gone,
I cut it out for being wrong.
Now I bleed out awaiting Her,
My now dead living Dead girl,
Soon I'll be right there with Her
My only love, My Beautiful Monster.

July


Tonight the swelling land
is feeding.
Its tangled coat
of overgrown fur shines
in recovery
parched
all-but burned.
In the cool night
the cane and cows and cancer cells
nurse in the darkest recesses
and multiply
sprouting stalks like fireworks
that explode and echo up the valley.
Beneath the sickle-moon we're consumed
growing more alone together.

A Garment to Brag(g?) About  

I want a cape
Maybe even a cloak
I want it to look like the one
Robin Hood wore when he gave away his bestest fucks
To all his Marian's and hopeful serfs
Won't someone find me a cloak
Like the one batman wears in robins dampest thoughts
Make it from hopes and sew it with golden edges of stolen dreams in hidden pockets
Just make sure it says Made in Taiwan in the stitching



(The newest ones are always the best ones, right?)

The Hall Of The Damned        


The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath  
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark underworld  
of plughole down drain .



A soul stealing trident
Satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped  
in a serpent
stands arrow capped  
in an evil dominant
inside are trapped spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life retirement .



So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near and says
this is what you might get
only fear if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be speared in an eternal net .



The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers that hanged  
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
forever tortured  
dead and inane
they cry out contorted  
faintly my name
as I leave Satans
emporium of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name ever again
nor dare never shall I speak it
in vain .
 

The vicissitude of love

Translucency of our love morphed through eons
of treacherous storms
some lucid and others ambiguous
words were merely breaths of smoke
rising from dormant oceans of volcanic ripple
convoluted and muddled
conjugating the perfectly reposed strings
misconstruing language of love

Ripeness of our flesh
fed the furtive whispers of self exile
the solitude imprisoned through past walls
impairing the consanguinity
of fingers and touch
the expanse of emotions
were sirens for song of death
filling aspirations for Elysian fields
with spurious hopelessness and despair
in this space of 'Us'

The living truth of our love
fragmentally premature at birth
in this breath, testimony inked on petals
shall blow on through passages of time
ashes to ashes
with our eulogy concealed in a vessel
soundless and motionless
sphering to another time
re-birthed with hopes
of perpetual existence
becoming entwined
in numinous divinity

I shall be there
my love
waiting for your arrival
persevering
four seasons of weather
to be whole again
with you as one

I'd like to be in a world far away
Where life means more than today
Gold buys a whore in a moment
For pleasure taken by the throat it
Bleeds us all dry
And whatever we try
Death grips hold and won't let go
My only wish is to have a sure
Understanding
Comprehending
Life as it was meant to be
Love as it is given free

On a different shore
In reality or lore
Might there be
A depth unseen
Of which we can take hold
And in brazen lie are told
That it is not tangible
And never manageable
By those who are held at arms length
We weren't meant to have its strength
Lent to our own hearts
To bring love to a start

But death
And dismay
Is our breath
This day
Now and forevermore
Life is tallied and it gives its score
To our accomplishments
Not embellishments

We are told in the end
Life was not lent
For a moment of pleasure
But we were to have treasured
Each second and day
As one given away
As a gift
Not to have been sifted
Until it passed by and blew away
As chaff in wind does not stay

I see what's here
The sadness so dear
Is kept close
and life seems frozen
In time
The lines
Are blurred
Hearts cease being stirred
Satisfaction of sin
So prevalent within
Gives birth to death
The start of grief

I long for a place
Where love is a grace
Freely given
Never striven
To be had
Not a momentary fad
Of random people
Had without complications of steeple
Isn't love deep?
Should it make us weep?
Or should we laugh in its presence
And be whole in every sense
Of the word
Is there a world
Where we can be whole
Run like a foal,
Free of cares,
Crying no tears
Of sadness or grief
Losing nothing to the midnight thief
Who seeks to kill and destroy
Love and peace leaving worry
And an emptiness inside
That we cannot hide
Behind our eyes
As we gaze into the light

And so I dwell
A victim of a living hell
In which there is no rest
No love, laughter, nothing best
I have a fantasy
I have forever longed to see
In reality
Without all brevity
That surrounds
Every mound
Of refuse I have
Called life without verve

I dwell inside
My mind
Right now
Lying low
Out of sight
Of the dismal blight
Of the eyes of reality
Of the hatred of society
As I break the flow
And seek to show
A way
Today
That is more
Than a lore
Not on a different shore
But had in a rainfall pour
For all who desire more
Both now and forevermore

My imagination creates
Depth of a world which hates
Superficiality
Mere frivolity
And seeks to give
Friendship free
Not striven
Not had with a lease
It offers beauty of light
Mystery of dark
Not death as a common plight
Nor hate as a start
But it offers peace
As we rest on knees
Head in hands
A calm in heart
Our worry ends
Sadness has no part
In this fantasy
I long to see
As my reality
Holding me down by gravity
By weight
I wait
For this peace
For this love
For this breath
Of fresh air from above

So I long
For a pure song
To sing to all
When they start to fall
Of a place
Where grace
And freedom dwell
Without having a sale
Of something less for a moment
That brings with it a stone
That causes man to fall
Into a hole called hell
Or life as we know it

I am the artist

You have the audacity to ask why I became an artist?
Why? Indeed! Who else will teach you of tragic risk?
Who else will help you see beauty in a clenched fist?
How will you know anonymous others share your sorrows?
Were I not here to chastise, would you feel it right to
borrow without first asking acceptance by the owner?
Did you feel only pity for a man who chose to be a loner?  
Without my pen to lead you, my brush to celebrate the sky,
my fingers plucking strings, my voice to hush the crowd,
how would you ever come to see, the pain or joy in what you
read, the magnificence of nature, the beauty of the ballad or
the pure and joyous noise of voices raised in choir.
I do not art for need to eat, a beggars bounty soles my feet.
I am the artist for your pleasure, I need to share my treasures.

The Shape of Space (the Poincare dodecahedral variation and OCD)

Synonym      
antonym      
homonym -      
my existence is celluloid:      
       
every        
single        
detail        
       
of every        
single second        
       
of every single day        
       
is embalmed on a reel        
that never stops playing.      
       
Minutia travels in orbit        
(introspection is a mobius strip),      
so the dissective autopsy never      
ends.      
       
But there is beauty in the broken.      
       
There are bare bones        
and weird couches.        
There are luminous blue weevils      
living in the freezer like Jedi ghosts.      
Art is a sacrament      
colors taste      
objects feel for anchors      
and water hums.      
       
Sometimes I'm a battle hymn.      
Battle. Hymn.      
Threnody.      
Him.      
Hmmm.      
     
Aum

Synonym.
Antonymn.
Homonym.
Existence is celluloid...



©Aish 2013

Anonymous said:<< post removed >>


I could count many previous comps stating the same theme...just to say, a recent comp. "Your Style" was there...but anyways, am not against this comp. as there are many posts already.

This is just for attention, so that repetitions of comp. could be avoided! What say?

Monsters




Blood all over! Blood all over!
let me sing the devils song.
Show your fingers, let me see them,
let me show you, you are wrong.

Give them to me, let me use them,
let me paint your pain.
Let me wash away your sins
in a bloody rain.

Creations running through the hallway
shouting nonsense, feel this fear.
Let me grab your hand to bring you
to those monsters, feel them near.

Feel your monsters, deep inside you,
feel the angst, the pain, the hate.
See the monsters all around you,
all those monsters you create.  

Raven of Sorrow



     
Tie-dye sunsets turning doleful shades      
I through these silken curtains gazed      
At the dreary forms displayed      
As shadows in a purple haze      
The lucid sky grows ever dimmer      
The Sun a weak and dying ember      
Cold winds set huddled trees ashiver      
In the twilight of December      
     
I sat and scowled in reverie      
Brooding on things that now shall never be      
It seems the fates, at last, have severed me      
From all my hopes and pleasant dreams      
     
Something deep within me stirred      
The remnants of a dream differed      
Echos of whispered murmured words      
Never to again be heard      
     
Volumes of forgotten lore      
Lay strewn out across my floor      
As i floated off to realms of sleep      
Where ebony winged demons creep      
     
Thoughts of her becloud my mind      
In my chambers thus confined      
And my loneliness combined      
With the side effects of wine      
Cause my mind to fabricate      
Illusions in my weary state      
     
Ravens shrieking in the dark      
Pecking at a bleeding heart      
Alas that tell tale heart is mine      
On which these ghastly ravens dine!      
     
And that still beating heart they tore      
Upon the grave of my lost Lenore      
Where she lay forever more      
the birds perch shrieking      
"NEVERMORE!"      
     
Awaking in cold sweat i shuddered      
Thinking i should have closed the shutters      
Then scarcely could a gasp I utter      
As through my window a black bird fluttered      
     
There it perched upon my  window pane      
There it stared in cold disdain      
Then rose the first rays of tomorrow      
And away flew the raven of my sorrows  

The Second Poem         1/4/12

The weight of you on my lap
Was no weight at all.

In slumber you sank in,
And I was washed with light.

White light swallowed city clang
And I swear the air around us sang
With the serenade of that city clang.

I awoke when it happened again.
You where still the one
And I wrote a second poem
For the one I love.