Submissions by HedonsHerald (Alexander Johnson)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I'm Glycolosis. There is no special meaning. Your obsession with meaning is unnatural. Go watch t.v. It's better for your state of mind.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
15th Jan 2016 00:34am
15th Jan 2016 00:34am
Hmm.
Like a sleeping god's dream,
or a dead god's nightmare,
Heros in white,
noble, fair,
Lords of Light, goodness incarnate,
they all taste the same.
or a dead god's nightmare,
Heros in white,
noble, fair,
Lords of Light, goodness incarnate,
they all taste the same.
661 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Nov 2015 8:27pm
3rd Nov 2015 8:27pm
A Query for My Heart
Who is ‘I’?
That ephemeral being,
that synthesizes mind,
and sight?
‘i’ wants to know.
Why does He try,
to take the Absolute,
and dilute,
it with preconceptions?
Is He a fallacy,
a voice that’s just noise?
Or is he part,
of a larger heart,
that understands more,
than me?
Does I know more than i do,
Or are they one and the same,
Or better yet,
Did I exist before i even came,
into existence,
am i just his subsistence?
That ephemeral being,
that synthesizes mind,
and sight?
‘i’ wants to know.
Why does He try,
to take the Absolute,
and dilute,
it with preconceptions?
Is He a fallacy,
a voice that’s just noise?
Or is he part,
of a larger heart,
that understands more,
than me?
Does I know more than i do,
Or are they one and the same,
Or better yet,
Did I exist before i even came,
into existence,
am i just his subsistence?
614 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Oct 2015 00:07am
8th Oct 2015 00:07am
The Shadow of Death and Love
An old poem from when I was still an optimist in matters of love.
------------------------------------------
One man
Two tortures
who will bear the burden?
not god
not when the shadow
of my infatuation
affection
some might even call it love
lies still
burnt into the floor
How many seconds has it been?
1?
2?
3?
12?
No
there haven't been any seconds
only tears to tell the time by
And When the reaper beckons
gladly shall I go ontu death
for my existence is moot
without you at my side
...
------------------------------------------
One man
Two tortures
who will bear the burden?
not god
not when the shadow
of my infatuation
affection
some might even call it love
lies still
burnt into the floor
How many seconds has it been?
1?
2?
3?
12?
No
there haven't been any seconds
only tears to tell the time by
And When the reaper beckons
gladly shall I go ontu death
for my existence is moot
without you at my side
...
780 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
24th Sep 2015 2:16am
24th Sep 2015 2:16am
No Grape Left Behind: a Burning Bush
In the style of renowned modernist poet T.S. Eliot, I included allusion up the wazoo. Enjoy Dissecting it.
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The overwhelming hypocrisy,
of a wine press,
painting it's grapes as liberated,
when in fact they're desiccated,
fruits from the near east despoiled,
plans for leashing the indivisible, foiled, ...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The overwhelming hypocrisy,
of a wine press,
painting it's grapes as liberated,
when in fact they're desiccated,
fruits from the near east despoiled,
plans for leashing the indivisible, foiled, ...
945 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
19th Sep 2015 1:27am
19th Sep 2015 1:27am
Making My Own Mistakes
My laugh is violent.
Harsh bark,
followed by quiet.
Silence,
this ripping, this tearing,
this horrid cacophony,
its unique,
'cause it belongs to me,
the result of lack of modesty,
of honesty.
Who cares what I think?
you can't ask the ship to sink
you have to smash holes in everything,
and hope the life boat's ready,
and that the prow holds steady,
'cause a laugh can't take you,
back to safety,
you'll just have to take it
---like a champ,
if you wanna make it.
Harsh bark,
followed by quiet.
Silence,
this ripping, this tearing,
this horrid cacophony,
its unique,
'cause it belongs to me,
the result of lack of modesty,
of honesty.
Who cares what I think?
you can't ask the ship to sink
you have to smash holes in everything,
and hope the life boat's ready,
and that the prow holds steady,
'cause a laugh can't take you,
back to safety,
you'll just have to take it
---like a champ,
if you wanna make it.
699 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
14th Sep 2015 5:50pm
14th Sep 2015 5:50pm
The Nymph Has His Heart
An Iron God rules,
over steel skies,
but he cannot ignore,
those forest-hazel eyes,
wide and hungry,
they shake this God to madness,
melting ice cold steel,
replacing ancient sadness.
There sits a God,
of iron and cold,
tyrant and lichlord,
With his mask of gold,
immovable by nature,
empty and black,
untethered by sorrow,
but not from its lack.
Here comes the nymph,
who will not be kept,
making music so sweet,
the Iron God wept,
irresistible by nature, ...
over steel skies,
but he cannot ignore,
those forest-hazel eyes,
wide and hungry,
they shake this God to madness,
melting ice cold steel,
replacing ancient sadness.
There sits a God,
of iron and cold,
tyrant and lichlord,
With his mask of gold,
immovable by nature,
empty and black,
untethered by sorrow,
but not from its lack.
Here comes the nymph,
who will not be kept,
making music so sweet,
the Iron God wept,
irresistible by nature, ...
937 reads
2 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
13th Sep 2015 8:47pm
13th Sep 2015 8:47pm
Ego sum Deum
Ego sum deum,
ergo,
ego sum stercore,
you know,
Latin's not my forte,
but when this Deity,
finally,
meets his family,
and abandons his hypocrisy,
You'll know that you've seen everything.
ergo,
ego sum stercore,
you know,
Latin's not my forte,
but when this Deity,
finally,
meets his family,
and abandons his hypocrisy,
You'll know that you've seen everything.
695 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Sep 2015 10:38pm
12th Sep 2015 10:38pm
From Tex-Mex, to Cali
Been gone for a while,
but now I've returned,
I saw Mountains grow,
I saw the Valley burn,
I saw a city of Angels,
I saw those Angels stoop low,
Burning the grass,
in that Tinseltown Glow,
I saw a boy who was wise,
for the age of seven that is,
But of all the things I saw,
there's just one thing I'll miss.
I went to the desert,
I went downtown,
But of all these places,
The Mountain takes the Crown.
but now I've returned,
I saw Mountains grow,
I saw the Valley burn,
I saw a city of Angels,
I saw those Angels stoop low,
Burning the grass,
in that Tinseltown Glow,
I saw a boy who was wise,
for the age of seven that is,
But of all the things I saw,
there's just one thing I'll miss.
I went to the desert,
I went downtown,
But of all these places,
The Mountain takes the Crown.
768 reads
2 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
3rd Sep 2015 2:24am
3rd Sep 2015 2:24am
Driving to the Bottom
Under skin,
my nerves burst,
capillaries writhe,
while I drive my own hearse,
down to the the bottom of the bottle,
pedal to the metal, full speed, full throttle,
and I wish I could define,
all the things that I find,
when my brain's drowned in booze,
and I've got nothing to lose,
but it's like trying to name a pain,
or identify that little stain,
on your soul.
You just can't know.
because who knows why you keep draining,
trying to seperate from life,
always trying to make a fog so thick,
you could cut it with a knife,...
my nerves burst,
capillaries writhe,
while I drive my own hearse,
down to the the bottom of the bottle,
pedal to the metal, full speed, full throttle,
and I wish I could define,
all the things that I find,
when my brain's drowned in booze,
and I've got nothing to lose,
but it's like trying to name a pain,
or identify that little stain,
on your soul.
You just can't know.
because who knows why you keep draining,
trying to seperate from life,
always trying to make a fog so thick,
you could cut it with a knife,...
1048 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
30th Aug 2015 7:47am
30th Aug 2015 7:47am
Songs of Night
I thirst,
not for wine,
like at first,
but for what's mine,
that perfect shape,
With tan lines,
that from waist to nape.
Trace them with my eyes,
Then my tongue,
they leave me singing songs,
best left unsung,
songs of the void,
that your moans like to fill,
songs of the adoration,
my punishments instill,
songs of silence,
all that I have heard,
Songs of your God,
who's rage you love to stir,
songs of Boredom,
my days without any play,
songs of night,
for who needs the day?
not for wine,
like at first,
but for what's mine,
that perfect shape,
With tan lines,
that from waist to nape.
Trace them with my eyes,
Then my tongue,
they leave me singing songs,
best left unsung,
songs of the void,
that your moans like to fill,
songs of the adoration,
my punishments instill,
songs of silence,
all that I have heard,
Songs of your God,
who's rage you love to stir,
songs of Boredom,
my days without any play,
songs of night,
for who needs the day?
1046 reads
6 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Aug 2015 10:13pm
27th Aug 2015 10:13pm
A Fair Exchange?
I am a God,
a cononized fraud,
I'll use my throne of lies,
to get between your thighs,
to look you in the eyes,
Hear your listless sighs,
your my fallen angel,
my priestess and priest,
as you writhe beneath,
"Do you love me?"
"yah I love you
(if only for your body)"
a cononized fraud,
I'll use my throne of lies,
to get between your thighs,
to look you in the eyes,
Hear your listless sighs,
your my fallen angel,
my priestess and priest,
as you writhe beneath,
"Do you love me?"
"yah I love you
(if only for your body)"
675 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by HedonsHerald (Alexander Johnson)
