Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I write poetry on a range of subjects and in a range of styles. My privacy is extremely important to me, though I hope that you enjoy my work and that I enjoy yours.
borderlands
..once fell in love with an African man.
(or was he from the continent I knew?
you never know.)
we never knew how
to express what we know,
to show
the beating heart of what is real,
the lowest level in respect
of what is marked Human Resource.
too lost in objectives, I guess,
the borderlands of Africa, Europe,
the oceans in between,
the flesh and waves and air,
the pure, erotic, sensual recline...
the tragicomic, slow decline...
he tried to swim the oceans and
expected nothing in return,...
(or was he from the continent I knew?
you never know.)
we never knew how
to express what we know,
to show
the beating heart of what is real,
the lowest level in respect
of what is marked Human Resource.
too lost in objectives, I guess,
the borderlands of Africa, Europe,
the oceans in between,
the flesh and waves and air,
the pure, erotic, sensual recline...
the tragicomic, slow decline...
he tried to swim the oceans and
expected nothing in return,...
#love
202 reads
0 Comments
...
I've already experimented
with how much I can degrade myself,
lying in my own filth all day,
washing and eating only at night,
and only as necessary.
That was my third decade of life...
So now I'm experimenting
with how much I can dignify myself:
saving money, living, working,
reading, writing, washing and eating
just for the joy of those things.
And learning, slowly, how to love...
with how much I can degrade myself,
lying in my own filth all day,
washing and eating only at night,
and only as necessary.
That was my third decade of life...
So now I'm experimenting
with how much I can dignify myself:
saving money, living, working,
reading, writing, washing and eating
just for the joy of those things.
And learning, slowly, how to love...
#SelfDiscovery
409 reads
2 Comments
The First Flush and the Afterglow
I’d start with my dad, I suppose.
The one who made me feel afraid
most often in my childhood.
I’d put my hands about his throat,
restrict his breathing passages until
his flesh turned purple and,
tears running down his face,
a little light sits in the eyes begging,
pleading, asking to know why,
and then just vanishes.
I’d start in on my brother next.
Who tried to drown me when I was eight,
who held me down and beat me up
in front of our dad’s wife,
who looked the other way
and then said that it was my fault. ...
The one who made me feel afraid
most often in my childhood.
I’d put my hands about his throat,
restrict his breathing passages until
his flesh turned purple and,
tears running down his face,
a little light sits in the eyes begging,
pleading, asking to know why,
and then just vanishes.
I’d start in on my brother next.
Who tried to drown me when I was eight,
who held me down and beat me up
in front of our dad’s wife,
who looked the other way
and then said that it was my fault. ...
#love
#family
#abuse
285 reads
1 Comment
The Dark Place
..this is the truth that we do not
expose to the light:
that every child brutalised
is just as capable of brutalising you,
that every adult who brutalises
can just as easily be brutalised.
expose to the light:
that every child brutalised
is just as capable of brutalising you,
that every adult who brutalises
can just as easily be brutalised.
#abuse
308 reads
1 Comment
Nirvana
an aphorism
Nirvana is only doing good things without knowing why you do them, as opposed to doing any bad thing without knowing why you do it.
(Nirvana in this sense is unattainable, but still worth trying to attain.)
Nirvana is only doing good things without knowing why you do them, as opposed to doing any bad thing without knowing why you do it.
(Nirvana in this sense is unattainable, but still worth trying to attain.)
#spiritual
200 reads
0 Comments
just queer
the two of you tried
to burn it out of me,
to drown it out of me,
to beat and bully it into the grave.
holding my infant hands
to the fire, mother.
leaving me with a mark
that “dad” pretends he doesn’t see.
forcing me into the bath
with hands around my neck, father,
when I was just a teenager...
and both of us should have known more.
lying about men in bathrooms,
saying how they should be stoned,
calling the thing that lived in me
an ugly piece of shit
until I looked like, smelt of, lived in it. ...
to burn it out of me,
to drown it out of me,
to beat and bully it into the grave.
holding my infant hands
to the fire, mother.
leaving me with a mark
that “dad” pretends he doesn’t see.
forcing me into the bath
with hands around my neck, father,
when I was just a teenager...
and both of us should have known more.
lying about men in bathrooms,
saying how they should be stoned,
calling the thing that lived in me
an ugly piece of shit
until I looked like, smelt of, lived in it. ...
#love
330 reads
2 Comments
Quite Beautiful
I’m happy to take the rap
that my trauma made me gay,
since even if it did,
the damage bred
something that in itself
can be quite beautiful.
that my trauma made me gay,
since even if it did,
the damage bred
something that in itself
can be quite beautiful.
#gay
252 reads
2 Comments
Casting the Runes
I am
but a landscape of runes,
a line of books on my dresser,
from Arabian Nights to a Yale survey
of genius in history,
with apropos of nothing in between;
a Norse mythology; books of poems
by Lowell, Donne; and at one end
a box of Star Wars videos from 1995.
Opposite another end,
a row of vintage games:
Death on the Cards, Jack Straws, Hoopla...
another set of runes, themselves.
but a landscape of runes,
a line of books on my dresser,
from Arabian Nights to a Yale survey
of genius in history,
with apropos of nothing in between;
a Norse mythology; books of poems
by Lowell, Donne; and at one end
a box of Star Wars videos from 1995.
Opposite another end,
a row of vintage games:
Death on the Cards, Jack Straws, Hoopla...
another set of runes, themselves.
#books
222 reads
0 Comments
The Words That You Say First and Last
Your suicide note has always stuck with me,
as though I'd pinned it to a corkboard
and carried that board around.
Even when I'd forgotten your name
I knew the lettering, vaguely:
Zell... Zell-ar... Zell-er...
Jim or Rob, or Bob. Or Bill.
It's been years now,
over ten years since you died,
and even then I was jealous of you,
with your fancy career in IT.
That is the crucible, I think:
that objectives and goals
and even successes are nought
without knowing the reasons why,
are never...
as though I'd pinned it to a corkboard
and carried that board around.
Even when I'd forgotten your name
I knew the lettering, vaguely:
Zell... Zell-ar... Zell-er...
Jim or Rob, or Bob. Or Bill.
It's been years now,
over ten years since you died,
and even then I was jealous of you,
with your fancy career in IT.
That is the crucible, I think:
that objectives and goals
and even successes are nought
without knowing the reasons why,
are never...
#childhood
#suicide
415 reads
0 Comments
reading the cards
Quinlan: What's my fortune? You've been reading the cards, haven't you?
Tanya: I've been doing the accounts. - Touch of Evil
I once knew of
an atheist
who said
tarot
can only be
objects of art
and nothing else.
and told me if
I want
from them
the truth
that I
must really
be stupid.
looking back,
I understand
that like all things
he was both right
and wrong.
the cards do not give out
what laundry needs doing,
what politician...
Tanya: I've been doing the accounts. - Touch of Evil
I once knew of
an atheist
who said
tarot
can only be
objects of art
and nothing else.
and told me if
I want
from them
the truth
that I
must really
be stupid.
looking back,
I understand
that like all things
he was both right
and wrong.
the cards do not give out
what laundry needs doing,
what politician...
#pagan
435 reads
2 Comments
Fantod
a tarot reading
THE BLUE DOG
The dog is blue and blind.
He stands behind a wooden door.
All that’s else is blank.
CENTRE CARD
A stony and
precarious
figure
much like yourself
perhaps
THE BURNING HEAD
A floating pair of eyes.
A flaming head in black frame.
Ocean waves below.
THE BLUE DOG
The dog is blue and blind.
He stands behind a wooden door.
All that’s else is blank.
CENTRE CARD
A stony and
precarious
figure
much like yourself
perhaps
THE BURNING HEAD
A floating pair of eyes.
A flaming head in black frame.
Ocean waves below.
#pagan
455 reads
1 Comment
The Same Old Cake
You are both material and man,
whitewash and woman.
I feel the hairs across your arms,
the single painted toes,
the cuffs of a gentleman's sleeve.
Object, subject, object, subject.
Masculine and feminine, macho and girly.
Stephen, Lorraine, Lorraine, Stephen.
The two halves of the same old cake.
whitewash and woman.
I feel the hairs across your arms,
the single painted toes,
the cuffs of a gentleman's sleeve.
Object, subject, object, subject.
Masculine and feminine, macho and girly.
Stephen, Lorraine, Lorraine, Stephen.
The two halves of the same old cake.
#women
#men
241 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Casted_Runes (Mr Karswell)