Submissions by GraveyardBard (Mr. Addams)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Young carcass, old soul
SELF POEM
Published
6th Mar 2015 11:42pm
6th Mar 2015 11:42pm
Nix
I was technically never born. My mother was
too small a person to push me out like most
newborns, so they stuck her with paralysis and
splayed open her stomach. She told me she had
never been so scared in her life, the
doctor pulling me from her guts like an
impaction because no amount of drugs or
fitted screaming could get me to pass like
normal. The Wikipedia page for birth describes
human genesis as being the act of pushing a
baby out through the birth canal, so where exactly
does that leave me? A calcium oxalated knot that ...
too small a person to push me out like most
newborns, so they stuck her with paralysis and
splayed open her stomach. She told me she had
never been so scared in her life, the
doctor pulling me from her guts like an
impaction because no amount of drugs or
fitted screaming could get me to pass like
normal. The Wikipedia page for birth describes
human genesis as being the act of pushing a
baby out through the birth canal, so where exactly
does that leave me? A calcium oxalated knot that ...
816 reads
3 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Mar 2015 2:54pm
5th Mar 2015 2:54pm
A Story For Jess
I'm going to say there she
was - from two-thousand miles
away, there she was - an emerald
sea between us and my back
against the wrinkled, old skin of an
oak planted in the highest fold of
a hillside. I thumbed down my hat over my
eyes, just enough so that her
silhouette in front of a piercing red
sunset appeared to be gliding over thin
air. The sky was a splatter canvas of
purples and oranges, the oak was
comfortable. Sleep pulled at me like
tendrilous roots, held against a
husk and embraced. It was cold in a way that
made me wish...
was - from two-thousand miles
away, there she was - an emerald
sea between us and my back
against the wrinkled, old skin of an
oak planted in the highest fold of
a hillside. I thumbed down my hat over my
eyes, just enough so that her
silhouette in front of a piercing red
sunset appeared to be gliding over thin
air. The sky was a splatter canvas of
purples and oranges, the oak was
comfortable. Sleep pulled at me like
tendrilous roots, held against a
husk and embraced. It was cold in a way that
made me wish...
843 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
5th Mar 2015 00:53am
5th Mar 2015 00:53am
Sea
Are there really
other fish in the sea
when the water is so
polluted?
other fish in the sea
when the water is so
polluted?
632 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
2nd Mar 2015 5:26am
2nd Mar 2015 5:26am
It's Hard To Forget
It's hard to forget you
with your clothes in little
fisted bundles on the floor.
Fuck, do I hate cigarettes, but
you wear their smoke so well, and
I even let you light up under my
sheets just so the second-hand might
keep you around a little longer. I
let you get away with a lot of things in
turn for my naivety. There you were,
facing the wall but facing me, crouched
to pounce with a cigarette between
your lips, perhaps to gas the taste
of me out. I fucked you like I fuck up:
hard and without a doubt, and you
took me all in for good...
with your clothes in little
fisted bundles on the floor.
Fuck, do I hate cigarettes, but
you wear their smoke so well, and
I even let you light up under my
sheets just so the second-hand might
keep you around a little longer. I
let you get away with a lot of things in
turn for my naivety. There you were,
facing the wall but facing me, crouched
to pounce with a cigarette between
your lips, perhaps to gas the taste
of me out. I fucked you like I fuck up:
hard and without a doubt, and you
took me all in for good...
1015 reads
7 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Feb 2015 4:37am
27th Feb 2015 4:37am
It's A Little After Twelve And I Hate Myself
865 reads
1 Comment
SONG LYRICS
Published
1st Feb 2015 1:03pm
1st Feb 2015 1:03pm
Refrain: He of Ether
A'high, the slumbery sun demits,
And swear ye, being sound of wits,
Do I spot a shade, not tree, nor hill,
But a man, you say ye what ye will.
This man of cloak and winter garm
And oak branch fold below his arm
Raises hands to the cresting moon,
Flower he forth, beneath to bloom.
And he knows the cold that runs from deep,
For the breath of mountain shallows creep
To take him where the Earth and sky
And sun and moon and stars divine.
And swear ye, being sound of wits,
Do I spot a shade, not tree, nor hill,
But a man, you say ye what ye will.
This man of cloak and winter garm
And oak branch fold below his arm
Raises hands to the cresting moon,
Flower he forth, beneath to bloom.
And he knows the cold that runs from deep,
For the breath of mountain shallows creep
To take him where the Earth and sky
And sun and moon and stars divine.
607 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Feb 2015 12:13pm
1st Feb 2015 12:13pm
Lying Here
Lying here,
eyes sore.
Dreams that
were have
left me to
wonder how
much of them
were inspired. Fan
generates white
noise, sunlight
lemon yellow on
smoky blue walls.
A chill in the
form of a
timestamp on a
clock ghosts
up the stairwell.
Throw a leg over
the side of the
bed, the other is
bound to follow.
Frost clings to
living things
inside and
out.
Shadow of a
crow on the
windowsill.
No longer
longing.
eyes sore.
Dreams that
were have
left me to
wonder how
much of them
were inspired. Fan
generates white
noise, sunlight
lemon yellow on
smoky blue walls.
A chill in the
form of a
timestamp on a
clock ghosts
up the stairwell.
Throw a leg over
the side of the
bed, the other is
bound to follow.
Frost clings to
living things
inside and
out.
Shadow of a
crow on the
windowsill.
No longer
longing.
651 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
31st Jan 2015 8:48am
31st Jan 2015 8:48am
In The Morn
Though you may
wear the world's weight,
fall to wanderlust,
paint your smiles on a
stitch too well,
surrender to the night,
let sorrow get your best,
choke stifling your own thoughts,
suffocate in open air,
drink yourself dazed,
eat a pill from every
color in a rainbow,
unzipper your wrists,
wail through late hours after
the last light falls,
hear demons whisper sweet
nothings in the dark,
plead to a god you haven't
once considered to never wake
you...
... Well, you opened your eyes...
ain't that something......
wear the world's weight,
fall to wanderlust,
paint your smiles on a
stitch too well,
surrender to the night,
let sorrow get your best,
choke stifling your own thoughts,
suffocate in open air,
drink yourself dazed,
eat a pill from every
color in a rainbow,
unzipper your wrists,
wail through late hours after
the last light falls,
hear demons whisper sweet
nothings in the dark,
plead to a god you haven't
once considered to never wake
you...
... Well, you opened your eyes...
ain't that something......
685 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
31st Jan 2015 8:45am
31st Jan 2015 8:45am
Cemetery Romance
Don't need a key, she and I, just
shoulder our packs up and
over purgatory's gates, my shirt's
always gettin' caught. I wave her
down, hold hands and sprint
past the sensor lights, don't
think the caretaker heard us, do
ya? We slow down near our
favorite stones, the one with the
angel missin' an eye and that
gargoyle-lookin' thing there. Then
there's that mausoleum that you
always talkin' about us livin' in one
day. They're sleepin' in there, they won't
mind us, she says. I get right up the
side of it onto the roof and...
shoulder our packs up and
over purgatory's gates, my shirt's
always gettin' caught. I wave her
down, hold hands and sprint
past the sensor lights, don't
think the caretaker heard us, do
ya? We slow down near our
favorite stones, the one with the
angel missin' an eye and that
gargoyle-lookin' thing there. Then
there's that mausoleum that you
always talkin' about us livin' in one
day. They're sleepin' in there, they won't
mind us, she says. I get right up the
side of it onto the roof and...
800 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
31st Jan 2015 00:20am
31st Jan 2015 00:20am
Her Scrying Eyes
There are
crystal balls where
her eyes should
be. A pair of
placid lakes un-
rippled in a
shower of meteors,
refracting amber
starlight. They are
portals to the
dimensions she keeps,
that she grants
me passage. Scrying
glasses which blink
and shimmer when
she smiles - two hazel
suns that, if you
linger too long, will
draw tears, but you
will see
everything.
crystal balls where
her eyes should
be. A pair of
placid lakes un-
rippled in a
shower of meteors,
refracting amber
starlight. They are
portals to the
dimensions she keeps,
that she grants
me passage. Scrying
glasses which blink
and shimmer when
she smiles - two hazel
suns that, if you
linger too long, will
draw tears, but you
will see
everything.
761 reads
4 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Jan 2015 9:20pm
30th Jan 2015 9:20pm
Spake The Crow
I, in a traipse through a green
wood, came 'cross a noble crow,
down lustrous and carrying its
shadow in color. In the vice of its
ballasting clasp laid the remains of a
fetid rodent, reek and the larvae of
flies and little more left. And perhaps,
in light of my revulsion, the crow did
adjust its head, marble eyes ink-black,
and I did address, "Crow, why may you
not take flight and chase the living instead
of preying on foul carrion?" Unblinking,
he did not deny it, and spake saying,
"My lineage is not to be made...
wood, came 'cross a noble crow,
down lustrous and carrying its
shadow in color. In the vice of its
ballasting clasp laid the remains of a
fetid rodent, reek and the larvae of
flies and little more left. And perhaps,
in light of my revulsion, the crow did
adjust its head, marble eyes ink-black,
and I did address, "Crow, why may you
not take flight and chase the living instead
of preying on foul carrion?" Unblinking,
he did not deny it, and spake saying,
"My lineage is not to be made...
622 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
30th Jan 2015 3:24pm
30th Jan 2015 3:24pm
The Ghosts Of Men
When a kind of man
with influence, a
gilded man, whose
servants bear capes with
insignias and carve pillars
of ivory, wields a kind of
confidence bordering on
the mad, in the coming
wars and suffering of
his people, he would
sooner see waste laid to
his kingdom by his own
hand than watch it fall
under any other means.
And the mad king would
disown his only heir, and
thrust deep his contempt into
the very soil his walls are
raised upon. He would slay the
farmers and peasants and
noble...
with influence, a
gilded man, whose
servants bear capes with
insignias and carve pillars
of ivory, wields a kind of
confidence bordering on
the mad, in the coming
wars and suffering of
his people, he would
sooner see waste laid to
his kingdom by his own
hand than watch it fall
under any other means.
And the mad king would
disown his only heir, and
thrust deep his contempt into
the very soil his walls are
raised upon. He would slay the
farmers and peasants and
noble...
613 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by GraveyardBard (Mr. Addams)
