Submissions by ButcherScraps (Belial)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Mining some old work on my old profile. Just ignore me, please lol ~yours truly, Sonderninja
The Shape I'm In
Summer 2014~
How much I miss
to moss-in-love
holding the mold
to gorgon-stone
a lifetime ago, this
ancient road.
Horizons beam
my wanderlust dream:
I am dim of years
in dandelion-blaze
as my wildcat-smarts
dig field mouse-bait
still sleek (From Behind)
with the Sun-Going-Down
‘til morning lurks
to hone the worm
& I (alone,
at-night,
aloof-on-hooves
& rambling for love
at the Back of Beyond)
wish-to-bite
these...
How much I miss
to moss-in-love
holding the mold
to gorgon-stone
a lifetime ago, this
ancient road.
Horizons beam
my wanderlust dream:
I am dim of years
in dandelion-blaze
as my wildcat-smarts
dig field mouse-bait
still sleek (From Behind)
with the Sun-Going-Down
‘til morning lurks
to hone the worm
& I (alone,
at-night,
aloof-on-hooves
& rambling for love
at the Back of Beyond)
wish-to-bite
these...
855 reads
2 Comments
Mind's Eye Site
Spring 2011~
Ancient road of dirt
abuzz with those
that hit the pavement.
A can of thought
struck with lucid spade.
Town-chow dry
like a mouse in the oven:
thunder, now passed,
praising rain on a lean-to...
this high & sky
full of smoke & fire.
Satisfied shine, rich
with daggered eyes in flight...
earth & alighted, poor
with cosmic delusion...
cockatrice glare
through fog & moon.
Venerated dirt
ablaze with this
that is suddenly...
Ancient road of dirt
abuzz with those
that hit the pavement.
A can of thought
struck with lucid spade.
Town-chow dry
like a mouse in the oven:
thunder, now passed,
praising rain on a lean-to...
this high & sky
full of smoke & fire.
Satisfied shine, rich
with daggered eyes in flight...
earth & alighted, poor
with cosmic delusion...
cockatrice glare
through fog & moon.
Venerated dirt
ablaze with this
that is suddenly...
929 reads
1 Comment
Liaison
The chariot's lull
the Light quickly fades
the Sun setting wheels & words abrupt
a blanket of grit on cooling flesh
talk is terse of tongue-in-sheath
sharpened on a belt with purpled points
a diamond-cut shaft from the clinking strike
movement-as-discussion,
sublime in tentacled freedom searching-
the night has a mind of a million miles
the canopy strokes for the misting cleft
shadowed long as we come
to the motor’s roar
& the exit wounds shine
a creaming shriek of gorge & sky ...
the Light quickly fades
the Sun setting wheels & words abrupt
a blanket of grit on cooling flesh
talk is terse of tongue-in-sheath
sharpened on a belt with purpled points
a diamond-cut shaft from the clinking strike
movement-as-discussion,
sublime in tentacled freedom searching-
the night has a mind of a million miles
the canopy strokes for the misting cleft
shadowed long as we come
to the motor’s roar
& the exit wounds shine
a creaming shriek of gorge & sky ...
1010 reads
2 Comments
Dirtshirt
(or "The Necromancer's Blues")
Ancient spine & chainsaw brains
I strut the scent of a soul in oil
a moon of teeth in blue sinew
is dawning to the break of an early grave.
With a pensive leisure grazing stone
hellcats shrine impassioned breath
lightning strikes the railroad tracks
to a lizard of fire from the craning maw.
My boots, my sins, my tomb, my tongue:
all signed to the time of a titmouse song
shading to a piece that nails release
then jaunts for a kiss upon the...
Ancient spine & chainsaw brains
I strut the scent of a soul in oil
a moon of teeth in blue sinew
is dawning to the break of an early grave.
With a pensive leisure grazing stone
hellcats shrine impassioned breath
lightning strikes the railroad tracks
to a lizard of fire from the craning maw.
My boots, my sins, my tomb, my tongue:
all signed to the time of a titmouse song
shading to a piece that nails release
then jaunts for a kiss upon the...
872 reads
2 Comments
Muse In Red
Muse in red to a mongrel blue.
Blood on stone that yonder finds.
Reptile's light to the healing bend.
Precarious fires for cooling minds.
Connected words
snake & flower.
Serrated tongue for honeyed slaying.
Clever beauty cleft & splayed.
Stuck on point to glowing ember.
A salamandrine crawling under.
Hell in spades for poets ablaze.
Toxic ‘shade in savage grace.
Defense & pride yet torn asunder.
Talk & torch to a dark unwelcome.
Those darting beads
of miss & failure.
Heart or heat in...
Blood on stone that yonder finds.
Reptile's light to the healing bend.
Precarious fires for cooling minds.
Connected words
snake & flower.
Serrated tongue for honeyed slaying.
Clever beauty cleft & splayed.
Stuck on point to glowing ember.
A salamandrine crawling under.
Hell in spades for poets ablaze.
Toxic ‘shade in savage grace.
Defense & pride yet torn asunder.
Talk & torch to a dark unwelcome.
Those darting beads
of miss & failure.
Heart or heat in...
820 reads
4 Comments
Diamond In the Rough
Slither invitation,
diamond-cut
vendettas.
Sellswords carve
carnival sideshow
smiles
darting buttress
eyes commence
a lust for fire
sings the bird:
conjecture cockfights
a finer company~
requisite quisling
dangles headfirst~
boiling leather
weathers
a tomb of
elbow room.
Laugh & dream
of head & hole.
Billed hourly
in barb wire
peckerwood
redfist beseeching
a blacktongue...
diamond-cut
vendettas.
Sellswords carve
carnival sideshow
smiles
darting buttress
eyes commence
a lust for fire
sings the bird:
conjecture cockfights
a finer company~
requisite quisling
dangles headfirst~
boiling leather
weathers
a tomb of
elbow room.
Laugh & dream
of head & hole.
Billed hourly
in barb wire
peckerwood
redfist beseeching
a blacktongue...
859 reads
1 Comment
Shedding Sacred Skins
Blooded early,
alone,
but it's a cinch.
Just peeling skin on
spattered rock
to a slamming cry
(sometimes there are no
quiet places to hide,
so one must
roar to survive),
then halting hot
on our gushing spot...
perhaps teaching death
the bug-eyed splat.
A fecal ritual
claiming high
where I mulch my dreams
to a distant scream,
the buzzing green
ambrosia wind
will soon grow thin,
{all we have to offer
is meat, blood,
& waste, ...
alone,
but it's a cinch.
Just peeling skin on
spattered rock
to a slamming cry
(sometimes there are no
quiet places to hide,
so one must
roar to survive),
then halting hot
on our gushing spot...
perhaps teaching death
the bug-eyed splat.
A fecal ritual
claiming high
where I mulch my dreams
to a distant scream,
the buzzing green
ambrosia wind
will soon grow thin,
{all we have to offer
is meat, blood,
& waste, ...
641 reads
3 Comments
Distant Scream of Dust & Dream
This is how
it feels,
the world moves on
blue-grey mo(u)rns
my insides
popping to polyglots,
'neath a garden of skin-
scratching foreign names
under your breath
& over the clouds
within cloaks of war
on alien shores...
& I watch you drift
on the bold, free dawn
as proud as gold & Sun
upon faraway glints
the steel is set
against blackest night
to clash on the waves...
one by one
on parting tongue
our scattered beach,
battered behind
these shattered walls...
it feels,
the world moves on
blue-grey mo(u)rns
my insides
popping to polyglots,
'neath a garden of skin-
scratching foreign names
under your breath
& over the clouds
within cloaks of war
on alien shores...
& I watch you drift
on the bold, free dawn
as proud as gold & Sun
upon faraway glints
the steel is set
against blackest night
to clash on the waves...
one by one
on parting tongue
our scattered beach,
battered behind
these shattered walls...
679 reads
0 Comments
Quiet as a Church Mouse
roar~
It began
where rusted tongs clutched & pulled the crown
through a doctored smoke by cries made silent,
forced to hide from Old Gods in the Dark,
where marbles, razors, & books of hymns
& matches filled the early days.
Where a husk of hearth & rodent sausage
stayed alive the memory hunger.
Where grave voices herald bunking bone meal
in dangerous machines obsolete.
Where cop & carrier pigeon crossed wires
to create a fear of phones & voices.
Where Mother left the bricks & box-cutters...
It began
where rusted tongs clutched & pulled the crown
through a doctored smoke by cries made silent,
forced to hide from Old Gods in the Dark,
where marbles, razors, & books of hymns
& matches filled the early days.
Where a husk of hearth & rodent sausage
stayed alive the memory hunger.
Where grave voices herald bunking bone meal
in dangerous machines obsolete.
Where cop & carrier pigeon crossed wires
to create a fear of phones & voices.
Where Mother left the bricks & box-cutters...
763 reads
1 Comment
Bride of the Outlaw Philistine
Barbarian summer,
broadsword whistles by -
king or fool
to bowing
from once he stood
on ceremony -
a veil, or slice
through open neck...
the toning dark,
the graining head...
spoke in smoke
to the lucky bloke...
a powerless high,
& born to leaking
bile of Ba'al
{she is a
shimmering
Jezebel doll}.
Autumn flies
the choking moon
on thistledown tones
of longing by,
deep in the brush
with thoughts of fire
as crooked...
broadsword whistles by -
king or fool
to bowing
from once he stood
on ceremony -
a veil, or slice
through open neck...
the toning dark,
the graining head...
spoke in smoke
to the lucky bloke...
a powerless high,
& born to leaking
bile of Ba'al
{she is a
shimmering
Jezebel doll}.
Autumn flies
the choking moon
on thistledown tones
of longing by,
deep in the brush
with thoughts of fire
as crooked...
865 reads
1 Comment
Red Flag Dawn On White-hot Walls
A horrid cold is gilding
the hard-morning clay.
The horizon at dawn
is scorching on torrid faith.
& the anger shills a clash of walls.
At winter's end easing cloak to flame
where larger problems loom like tombs,
back to the front of Beyond, at last,
a single phalanx to stand or sand.
Waving whores of grain 'til plague or purse,
a dubious lord holding herd or horde
& bread on the block is to crop for heads
as the white winds croak on clocks of flesh.
Hits the earth with a spurt & a smile...
a gawking...
the hard-morning clay.
The horizon at dawn
is scorching on torrid faith.
& the anger shills a clash of walls.
At winter's end easing cloak to flame
where larger problems loom like tombs,
back to the front of Beyond, at last,
a single phalanx to stand or sand.
Waving whores of grain 'til plague or purse,
a dubious lord holding herd or horde
& bread on the block is to crop for heads
as the white winds croak on clocks of flesh.
Hits the earth with a spurt & a smile...
a gawking...
768 reads
1 Comment
Sweet~daze
Happy days for me.
Have my cake & eating it.
I am satisfied.
Have my cake & eating it.
I am satisfied.
661 reads
DU Poetry : Submissions by ButcherScraps (Belial)