Submissions by RByron418 (R Byron Johnson)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
you won't get it. you're wasting your time. suicide is an option, as valid as any other gilded failure
exile
a steep clean.
fluid fire.
abundant skin.
language of
screaming storms.
blooming night.
a doubting sun.
grey minds.
mad death.
self obscured.
late virtues.
wrong roads.
diamond sharp.
rip today.
bleed a tomorrow.
a perfect fall.
quiet memory.
dark whispers.
the crawling clock.
slow wax.
nervous eyes.
spirit dry.
push of time.
forward. downward.
half dreaming.
ache of thoughts.
angry shadows.
lust of light.
bare. raw.
wrong needs.
small kills. ...
fluid fire.
abundant skin.
language of
screaming storms.
blooming night.
a doubting sun.
grey minds.
mad death.
self obscured.
late virtues.
wrong roads.
diamond sharp.
rip today.
bleed a tomorrow.
a perfect fall.
quiet memory.
dark whispers.
the crawling clock.
slow wax.
nervous eyes.
spirit dry.
push of time.
forward. downward.
half dreaming.
ache of thoughts.
angry shadows.
lust of light.
bare. raw.
wrong needs.
small kills. ...
#LifeStruggles
#apathy
#boredom
510 reads
1 Comment
Plague
unable
devolves from
unwilling,
inverted alchemy
sloth to atrophy
then paralysis.
all landslides begin
with but a sprinkling of pebbles,
entropy is contagious
empty in heart
and thus in deed.
Behold! a plague of locusts
and cowards!
devolves from
unwilling,
inverted alchemy
sloth to atrophy
then paralysis.
all landslides begin
with but a sprinkling of pebbles,
entropy is contagious
empty in heart
and thus in deed.
Behold! a plague of locusts
and cowards!
#corruption
#politics
#environment #greed
#environment #greed
454 reads
1 Comment
Secret Rhythm
a prisoner in marble, poised
proud stance, frozen hero -
breath, celebrate, and decay.
The Fool's heart whose voice
is a liquid growl that sounds like singing,
a soft breeze of velvet smoke
in a secret rhythm of suffocation,
a throbbing fever of hidden fire
and devouring time.
Here god is a broken ghost,
revered in violation, a cannibalized
victim whose salvation is
too little too late,
the poisoned salt harvested from
the belly of a dying sky.
Our haunted home of bone
embraces the foggy perfume...
proud stance, frozen hero -
breath, celebrate, and decay.
The Fool's heart whose voice
is a liquid growl that sounds like singing,
a soft breeze of velvet smoke
in a secret rhythm of suffocation,
a throbbing fever of hidden fire
and devouring time.
Here god is a broken ghost,
revered in violation, a cannibalized
victim whose salvation is
too little too late,
the poisoned salt harvested from
the belly of a dying sky.
Our haunted home of bone
embraces the foggy perfume...
#identity
#politics
#peace
419 reads
1 Comment
.period.
i have no pieces. Left here
is a remembrance of. Hot stone
cooking me in my grave. Like meat
for some. Nameless Beast of
some impotent king. Honored like
gold plated shit that never. Stinks
with rot, these obligations that. I pretend
and pretend are of. My Will
be damned to a. Husk of the
former self decaying.
Make me a super stout evolved
animus superiority perfected for. Factory and
retail nightmares of. Career.
Dream.
This is not. Me.
Giving up.
is a remembrance of. Hot stone
cooking me in my grave. Like meat
for some. Nameless Beast of
some impotent king. Honored like
gold plated shit that never. Stinks
with rot, these obligations that. I pretend
and pretend are of. My Will
be damned to a. Husk of the
former self decaying.
Make me a super stout evolved
animus superiority perfected for. Factory and
retail nightmares of. Career.
Dream.
This is not. Me.
Giving up.
#LifeStruggles
#HumanRights
358 reads
0 Comments
exoskeleton
Lest the Emperor meet its end,
make the Mother crawl
instead, make her cook
her language until charred with
black dogma. This game
of corruptible wax called Freedom
molded within mad, righteous thought.
The Big Scream
heard in the hard sleep of
sharpening fright.
A coat of ache like the
exoskeleton of some
fat and frantic insect
lashing its tongue against
yesterday's grey fog;
its tombstone, cold
and fake, the epitaph
a lie.
make the Mother crawl
instead, make her cook
her language until charred with
black dogma. This game
of corruptible wax called Freedom
molded within mad, righteous thought.
The Big Scream
heard in the hard sleep of
sharpening fright.
A coat of ache like the
exoskeleton of some
fat and frantic insect
lashing its tongue against
yesterday's grey fog;
its tombstone, cold
and fake, the epitaph
a lie.
#politics
#HumanRights
309 reads
0 Comments
Meat
- heavy dream of
soft blood trickling, warm,
in a bitter spring.
a sore breast, beneath the weight
of diseased memory.
an obscure moon, waning
its obscene silver beauty
of blasphemy.
a private companion, perfect.
a dark house, hot terror.
a nervous shine of
medicinal sweat, smeared.
sleep blooms early upon
the machine and its thought games.
Hungry, noxious virtue,
the slow flesh of a ghost.
crawling lust, blind
happy meat.
soft blood trickling, warm,
in a bitter spring.
a sore breast, beneath the weight
of diseased memory.
an obscure moon, waning
its obscene silver beauty
of blasphemy.
a private companion, perfect.
a dark house, hot terror.
a nervous shine of
medicinal sweat, smeared.
sleep blooms early upon
the machine and its thought games.
Hungry, noxious virtue,
the slow flesh of a ghost.
crawling lust, blind
happy meat.
#anger
#dark
420 reads
0 Comments
strange air
strange air, a bare wisp -
the last breath of some
dying god. Sterile ground,
seeds like cysts, Life
like an infection.
This that insists
on being, against all law
it survives but never thrives -
With one pause it is naught
and then, is now
everything
and no more.
Wake.
a scream, distant but
inside. Some Thing
just died. And yet here
I remain. Left eye cast out
into the shadows and shells,
Right eye opening,
I Am
bored with you now.
the last breath of some
dying god. Sterile ground,
seeds like cysts, Life
like an infection.
This that insists
on being, against all law
it survives but never thrives -
With one pause it is naught
and then, is now
everything
and no more.
Wake.
a scream, distant but
inside. Some Thing
just died. And yet here
I remain. Left eye cast out
into the shadows and shells,
Right eye opening,
I Am
bored with you now.
#corruption
#identity
#power #spiritual
#power #spiritual
443 reads
2 Comments
Our
Go crazy.
you have no choice anyway,
stuttering nerves
deluded dreams
always uncertain
scab of identity
Name Tag, bar code, serial number,
Our lives Our stats
Our stock Our brand
New Selves
tucked in and sucked out
posed and productive
and some where
is Us
but not today
not now.
you have no choice anyway,
stuttering nerves
deluded dreams
always uncertain
scab of identity
Name Tag, bar code, serial number,
Our lives Our stats
Our stock Our brand
New Selves
tucked in and sucked out
posed and productive
and some where
is Us
but not today
not now.
#conflict
#identity
#politics
417 reads
0 Comments
Amen
you rot, but karma is
uneven, unjust - so slither, crawl through:
WANT! WANT!
- the mouth full of lust, cries
craving, the end of
the beginning of the last end
of the last beginning. So here, take!
but give not, but Naught, and
save your skin for
a superior pollution -
Contaminate and Conquer,
Divide and Betray.
Whose stillborn pride
is this? Magnanimous
Hoo-Ray! Come All! fall and
fail. Bend the knee,
crude fortune -
Gave up on hope and
settled for enlightenment ...
uneven, unjust - so slither, crawl through:
WANT! WANT!
- the mouth full of lust, cries
craving, the end of
the beginning of the last end
of the last beginning. So here, take!
but give not, but Naught, and
save your skin for
a superior pollution -
Contaminate and Conquer,
Divide and Betray.
Whose stillborn pride
is this? Magnanimous
Hoo-Ray! Come All! fall and
fail. Bend the knee,
crude fortune -
Gave up on hope and
settled for enlightenment ...
#lust
#religion
#morality #surreal
#morality #surreal
397 reads
0 Comments
Rise
pounded firm, flat
to split a wound
- and here, bleeding forth
a cold well, to war it strides
upon the Big World
this typhonian summer, vibrant
then still, upon a breath
elapsed
- last honey, a red boil
scorched to a great none
a white taste, stale
short then gone
- dry mind, thirst, fight sleep between
slips, little toy turns on then off
clock sings, rips brain
loud dream, delirium logic
silent art, such angry light
alive over memory
- tomorrow must fall
for Now to rise.
to split a wound
- and here, bleeding forth
a cold well, to war it strides
upon the Big World
this typhonian summer, vibrant
then still, upon a breath
elapsed
- last honey, a red boil
scorched to a great none
a white taste, stale
short then gone
- dry mind, thirst, fight sleep between
slips, little toy turns on then off
clock sings, rips brain
loud dream, delirium logic
silent art, such angry light
alive over memory
- tomorrow must fall
for Now to rise.
#anxiety
#conflict
#LifeCycle
434 reads
0 Comments
Delight
whisper in lazy delight
sweet, dangerous medicine,
the raw ache from an obscene
ugly urge.
prepare a church in night
webbed in sleeping virtues,
baptisms washing bare
the drunk disgust -
cut, cry, stop.
enveloped in the radiant
smell of disease, a mist
of winter cloth -
stab rust to the glory
of an early heaven,
a short shine
smeared beneath an angry touch.
past terrors chant their worship
gasping through a fast sea
of beat dead faces -
finally,
crushed to a diamond egg, ...
sweet, dangerous medicine,
the raw ache from an obscene
ugly urge.
prepare a church in night
webbed in sleeping virtues,
baptisms washing bare
the drunk disgust -
cut, cry, stop.
enveloped in the radiant
smell of disease, a mist
of winter cloth -
stab rust to the glory
of an early heaven,
a short shine
smeared beneath an angry touch.
past terrors chant their worship
gasping through a fast sea
of beat dead faces -
finally,
crushed to a diamond egg, ...
#depression
#secrets
#despair
617 reads
1 Comment
at heart
a righteous machine forged
in love's perfect burn ) -
frantic, delirious
the meat is insane,
a symphony of screaming
confusing language for noise ) -
Heavy Sword
Hungry Money -
cast the shadow of class,
evoke a storm of lust,
lapping noxious tongues ) -
the flesh can only crawl
and beg its way through the soft fog
of a lie -
the private ghost
a prisoner, cold and
mad at heart ).
in love's perfect burn ) -
frantic, delirious
the meat is insane,
a symphony of screaming
confusing language for noise ) -
Heavy Sword
Hungry Money -
cast the shadow of class,
evoke a storm of lust,
lapping noxious tongues ) -
the flesh can only crawl
and beg its way through the soft fog
of a lie -
the private ghost
a prisoner, cold and
mad at heart ).
#anxiety
#LifeStruggles
#HumanRights
413 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by RByron418 (R Byron Johnson)