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.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
17th Sep 2017 2:27pm
17th Sep 2017 2:27pm
A Sleepless Night's Ponderings
Imperious Caesar,
dead and turn'd to clay,
might plug up a hole
and keep the wind away.'
Quoth the Danish Prince,
on Ophelia's wedding day,
the groomsbride pale and cold,
the bridesgroom a soiled spade.
The ephemeral is made sweet
by nature of it's fleeting grace,
the rose's wilting
lending desperate beauty to a scarlet face.
The sunrise is Good and Godly,
by right of it's sudden death,
and a picture only plucks from it's rosy throat
that rattling yellow breath.
Immortality...
dead and turn'd to clay,
might plug up a hole
and keep the wind away.'
Quoth the Danish Prince,
on Ophelia's wedding day,
the groomsbride pale and cold,
the bridesgroom a soiled spade.
The ephemeral is made sweet
by nature of it's fleeting grace,
the rose's wilting
lending desperate beauty to a scarlet face.
The sunrise is Good and Godly,
by right of it's sudden death,
and a picture only plucks from it's rosy throat
that rattling yellow breath.
Immortality...
#PopCulture
581 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
11th Sep 2017 1:38am
11th Sep 2017 1:38am
They Left Me with One Hand
I never know what to do with my left hand when I'm smoking.
It twists limp like a mute limb
On a screaming tree.
What should I do
when my left thumb is perpetually wet
And I've been left with full bottles
in the closet
I promised never to touch.
What heavy labels they have,
resting in my left hand on weightless glass.
And that hospital smell,
Don't get me started on how sickly sweet
Like sterile meat,
Fashioned to kill the mind.
And my heart is ravenous for a cerebral genocide.
I used my...
It twists limp like a mute limb
On a screaming tree.
What should I do
when my left thumb is perpetually wet
And I've been left with full bottles
in the closet
I promised never to touch.
What heavy labels they have,
resting in my left hand on weightless glass.
And that hospital smell,
Don't get me started on how sickly sweet
Like sterile meat,
Fashioned to kill the mind.
And my heart is ravenous for a cerebral genocide.
I used my...
#sadness
#regret
#emptiness
774 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
7th Sep 2017 9:50am
7th Sep 2017 9:50am
Solemnity
Of hated rogue and uneven gait,
do I pen this verse.
Speak O Muse of solemn state,
and of something shaking-terse.
Shift that twisted skein away from quaking fear,
from shattered hill and lonely glen.
Towards a state like steadfast mirror
perhaps in countenance less lonely then.
Perhaps less lonely then.
do I pen this verse.
Speak O Muse of solemn state,
and of something shaking-terse.
Shift that twisted skein away from quaking fear,
from shattered hill and lonely glen.
Towards a state like steadfast mirror
perhaps in countenance less lonely then.
Perhaps less lonely then.
#LifeAsAWriter
#SelfReflection
#SelfDiscovery #SelfWorth
#SelfDiscovery #SelfWorth
572 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Sep 2017 00:37am
7th Sep 2017 00:37am
My Bed Smells of Self-Loathing
I have never been so alone.
I have never felt so tired.
I hate the people I sleep with.
I despise the smiles they wear.
I loathe the light that shines yellow at the dawn.
I can't stand myself.
I have never felt so tired.
I hate the people I sleep with.
I despise the smiles they wear.
I loathe the light that shines yellow at the dawn.
I can't stand myself.
#SelfDiscovery
699 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Sep 2017 10:42am
6th Sep 2017 10:42am
Cigarette Confession
You don't have to be happy to have a good time.
#PopCulture
657 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
6th Sep 2017 1:28am
6th Sep 2017 1:28am
Old Friends
I had forgotten the allure of tainted want.
Unnecessary perversion.
The thrill of the unnatural.
How my appetites had grown tame in the face of Love.
I am reminded of a french film,
Contes Immoraux
or of alters left untwisted by Latin phrases
in beautiful old churches.
How wanton are razors and chains and such.
How fine the line between leather and lace.
Twist and shout blasphemies and falsehoods.
Call broken into black pits for good bits of temporary completion.
Unnecessary perversion.
The thrill of the unnatural.
How my appetites had grown tame in the face of Love.
I am reminded of a french film,
Contes Immoraux
or of alters left untwisted by Latin phrases
in beautiful old churches.
How wanton are razors and chains and such.
How fine the line between leather and lace.
Twist and shout blasphemies and falsehoods.
Call broken into black pits for good bits of temporary completion.
#LifeAsAWriter
631 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
5th Sep 2017 9:02am
5th Sep 2017 9:02am
Sorry, Kids. I'm a Sellout Now. Watch This Show
Okay, yeah, I write a lot of edgy cigarette poetry,
and mock celestial bodies,
and judge harshly whilst munching biscoti,
oh yeah! I use the world 'whilst'
and I spell it 'colour' ostentatiously
These are all just some of the things I do.
But can we be real for a second?
Pizza is great.
The sky is still blue (for most of us).
The Moon is still orbiting.
We're alive.
And I know pizza is fattening,
and that Hong Kong doesn't know the colour of the sky,
and that the moon is being slowly torn from it's...
and mock celestial bodies,
and judge harshly whilst munching biscoti,
oh yeah! I use the world 'whilst'
and I spell it 'colour' ostentatiously
These are all just some of the things I do.
But can we be real for a second?
Pizza is great.
The sky is still blue (for most of us).
The Moon is still orbiting.
We're alive.
And I know pizza is fattening,
and that Hong Kong doesn't know the colour of the sky,
and that the moon is being slowly torn from it's...
#PopCulture
513 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
5th Sep 2017 5:30am
5th Sep 2017 5:30am
Slow-Burning Papers
It was a full moon tonight.
That means world wide light
for everyone who looks up.
I ran out of cigarettes looking up at that fat gloating eye,
downward glaring like so much ash.
The funny thing about cigarettes,
is that since the late 90's they burn slowly.
Fire safety laws.
And if you let them, whilst you stare blankly at an empty sky
(with no stars and a bloated yellow wraith looming over you),
they go out.
Quietly, giving no notice of their silent death.
It's not until that jarring taste of cold stale air
that...
That means world wide light
for everyone who looks up.
I ran out of cigarettes looking up at that fat gloating eye,
downward glaring like so much ash.
The funny thing about cigarettes,
is that since the late 90's they burn slowly.
Fire safety laws.
And if you let them, whilst you stare blankly at an empty sky
(with no stars and a bloated yellow wraith looming over you),
they go out.
Quietly, giving no notice of their silent death.
It's not until that jarring taste of cold stale air
that...
#grief
#dark
#moon
#night
#emptiness
634 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
4th Sep 2017 8:23am
4th Sep 2017 8:23am
DYK
A fall from 150 feet on land, or 250 feet on water
is 95-98% fatal.
Just a fun fact I found on the internet.
pretty
little
everything caught up in this
array of poor life choices.
Soon they'll eat you up,
easily gobble you down.
Hell,
even I know you can't have your pudding till you eat your meat.
Lets forget for a while and
pray for a little forgiveness.
Maybe it's not so bad. After all,
even the devil has his good days.
is 95-98% fatal.
Just a fun fact I found on the internet.
pretty
little
everything caught up in this
array of poor life choices.
Soon they'll eat you up,
easily gobble you down.
Hell,
even I know you can't have your pudding till you eat your meat.
Lets forget for a while and
pray for a little forgiveness.
Maybe it's not so bad. After all,
even the devil has his good days.
#environment
504 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
3rd Sep 2017 7:23pm
3rd Sep 2017 7:23pm
S
I remember a sweaty day sometime in early July.
It was a Sunday,
Steak and cobbler,
coupled with saddles and dusty jeans in the sunset.
Pinstriping making arms sore and heavy,
smiles weighing even heavier on our weary faces.
Thinking about it makes me smile.
That was the first day I'd read your poetry.
And I believe the first day you'd read mine.
You hadn't learned the meaning of the word 'pinstriping' yet,
that would be a year later.
We weren't in love that day.
Not yet, anyway.
It was hot and sinful,
and...
It was a Sunday,
Steak and cobbler,
coupled with saddles and dusty jeans in the sunset.
Pinstriping making arms sore and heavy,
smiles weighing even heavier on our weary faces.
Thinking about it makes me smile.
That was the first day I'd read your poetry.
And I believe the first day you'd read mine.
You hadn't learned the meaning of the word 'pinstriping' yet,
that would be a year later.
We weren't in love that day.
Not yet, anyway.
It was hot and sinful,
and...
#erotic
#lover
#WritingPoetry
#FallingInLove
#sensual
568 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
1st Sep 2017 10:39pm
1st Sep 2017 10:39pm
Stupid Toothbrush
Two days is enough you think?
Good.
I did a line of coke last night, for the first time since my 15th birthday.
It'll probably be the last time I do a line of coke.
Not because I didn't like it,
but because it sped up the drum beat.
Four beats turned into four beats double time.
Ratta tata, ratta tata.
"I don't want to die"
"I forgive you'
Both are true.
But I don't think you realize how contradictory those statements are.
Because by forgiving you I killed a Me that hated to be.
That hated you.
By...
Good.
I did a line of coke last night, for the first time since my 15th birthday.
It'll probably be the last time I do a line of coke.
Not because I didn't like it,
but because it sped up the drum beat.
Four beats turned into four beats double time.
Ratta tata, ratta tata.
"I don't want to die"
"I forgive you'
Both are true.
But I don't think you realize how contradictory those statements are.
Because by forgiving you I killed a Me that hated to be.
That hated you.
By...
#PopCulture
902 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
30th Aug 2017 6:30pm
30th Aug 2017 6:30pm
Sorry.
Hi there. I've decided to take a hiatus from poetry. It's resulted in my malingering on a recent breakup that, in all honesty, has shattered my entire understanding of my future and my self. I am a recovering alcoholic and recently I have had a relapse, so as you can tell this unhealthy lingering is one that is not good for me. As a result, I intend to just live, avoiding the pen like the plague for a while. I recognize the spiral I'm going down and the last time I fell this way, it resulted in a (luckily failed) attempt at my own life. In an attempt to avoid that outcome I'm heading it off....
#breakup
#LifeStruggles
#alcohol
#LifeAsAWriter
#addiction
602 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by HedonsHerald (Alexander Johnson)
