Submissions by The_Crone
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Writing is Release, Relief, Reflection.
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
10th Jun 2017 3:35am
10th Jun 2017 3:35am
Cleanliness is Next to Godliness
I am now content with washing my own soul.
Dirty souls are handwash only, you know?
Especially one such as mine.
One that's been handled and worn
With greasy fingerprints smeared all over it,
Blood-stained and smelling of stale liquor.
For lack of virtue and love of vice,
This soul of mine has been dragged through the gutters so many times,
you can see the impression of my stumbling footprints in the dirt-filled cracks.
I used to take it to holy men.
Men of god with their faces scrubbed bright,
And admonition of sin dripping from their...
Dirty souls are handwash only, you know?
Especially one such as mine.
One that's been handled and worn
With greasy fingerprints smeared all over it,
Blood-stained and smelling of stale liquor.
For lack of virtue and love of vice,
This soul of mine has been dragged through the gutters so many times,
you can see the impression of my stumbling footprints in the dirt-filled cracks.
I used to take it to holy men.
Men of god with their faces scrubbed bright,
And admonition of sin dripping from their...
#PopCulture
886 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
31st Jan 2017 5:28am
31st Jan 2017 5:28am
Taste Me
I am too full.
Bursting with ripe fruit and pestilent rot.
Sweet juice running with the bitter pus.
It pours from my every orifice.
Mingling on the lips of the ones that get close.
Every time I prick my skin on the barbs of another human I ooze and let them tap my essence until their thirst for my otherness is quenched.
Not an acquired taste but holding a potency unsuitable for tender palates.
I am a well dug in the stews of strangness.
Full of primordial ooze.
Thick soups of darkness seasoned by the sugary light.
Care for a taste?
Bursting with ripe fruit and pestilent rot.
Sweet juice running with the bitter pus.
It pours from my every orifice.
Mingling on the lips of the ones that get close.
Every time I prick my skin on the barbs of another human I ooze and let them tap my essence until their thirst for my otherness is quenched.
Not an acquired taste but holding a potency unsuitable for tender palates.
I am a well dug in the stews of strangness.
Full of primordial ooze.
Thick soups of darkness seasoned by the sugary light.
Care for a taste?
#PopCulture
629 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
18th Jan 2017 6:05am
18th Jan 2017 6:05am
Maybe It's Dead
But I cant dance. And there's no moonshine. And I've already set fire to myself fifteen times. My bones should be spicing up the decor in the dungeon not being dragged through the ballroom. You think a bit of scent and some blue silk is going to make us all forget that I'M FUCKING ROTTING?! It's understandable that it has escaped your notice considering there are just so many cheeses on display here but I think it's time to pack it all up and put me back in the rubbish bin where I've been hiding all this time. I like the trash. Yes it smells on occasion but it's a dry rot. And I made myself a...
#PopCulture
558 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
5th Jan 2017 4:11am
5th Jan 2017 4:11am
Mari Lwyd
A chill fell.
Stars barely broke through the night.
Still frost in darkness
Held hostage by new moons light.
I played alone,
Disturbing banks of snow and resting creatures.
Running breathlessly and excited
Across the lands frozen features.
Merrily I skipped.
Then my ears caught a rattle.
The dry sound
Of a dead, dusty prattle.
It chilled me,
In a way the winter did not.
I shivered violently.
My childish fancy forgot.
So I left.
Seeking to avoid the unpleasant.
Quickly headed home to a fires glow....
Stars barely broke through the night.
Still frost in darkness
Held hostage by new moons light.
I played alone,
Disturbing banks of snow and resting creatures.
Running breathlessly and excited
Across the lands frozen features.
Merrily I skipped.
Then my ears caught a rattle.
The dry sound
Of a dead, dusty prattle.
It chilled me,
In a way the winter did not.
I shivered violently.
My childish fancy forgot.
So I left.
Seeking to avoid the unpleasant.
Quickly headed home to a fires glow....
#PopCulture
670 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Dec 2016 7:28am
17th Dec 2016 7:28am
Victim
I'm the kind of victim that make the beasts breath quicken in anticipation of hearing my screams.
The kind that lays trembling caught between fear and desire.
Not in the way of the virgin flower,
Waiting to be broken open for the first time.
But as the disobedient slave,
Breaking trifles and feining ineptness,
Eager to fall under the kiss of his masters lash once more,
Relishing the punishment even as he begs for mercy.
I'm the victim that makes the weak marvel.
Awe and disgust is all I see in the faces of the others.
They know knothing of my...
The kind that lays trembling caught between fear and desire.
Not in the way of the virgin flower,
Waiting to be broken open for the first time.
But as the disobedient slave,
Breaking trifles and feining ineptness,
Eager to fall under the kiss of his masters lash once more,
Relishing the punishment even as he begs for mercy.
I'm the victim that makes the weak marvel.
Awe and disgust is all I see in the faces of the others.
They know knothing of my...
#PopCulture
709 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
16th Dec 2016 9:59pm
16th Dec 2016 9:59pm
No Discrimination
My words tasted like truth.
But the taste was too much for your sensitive palate
The spice too strong
The salt too bitter
It wasn't meant for one such as you
Someone with a soft belly
And naivety that bordered on the edges of dangerous.
So like a child without their unwavering resilience.
You broke on the blunted point.
Armor parting like fluid to bare your vulnerable flesh.
You lay desolated before me
Screaming at the indignity
At the unfairness
I can only shake my head in disgust
How could you have gone on...
But the taste was too much for your sensitive palate
The spice too strong
The salt too bitter
It wasn't meant for one such as you
Someone with a soft belly
And naivety that bordered on the edges of dangerous.
So like a child without their unwavering resilience.
You broke on the blunted point.
Armor parting like fluid to bare your vulnerable flesh.
You lay desolated before me
Screaming at the indignity
At the unfairness
I can only shake my head in disgust
How could you have gone on...
#PopCulture
649 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Dec 2016 5:09pm
9th Dec 2016 5:09pm
Ruin
I am ruination.
Not the devious conductor orchestrating the devestation of chaos with nimble fingers.
But a cosmic catalyst stumbling through.
Skipping, merrily.
None the wiser to my condition.
Until I blunder, gracelessly.
Ripping away the sheer gauze curtains that veil the face of disaster looming menacingly through windows of your mind.
Not the devious conductor orchestrating the devestation of chaos with nimble fingers.
But a cosmic catalyst stumbling through.
Skipping, merrily.
None the wiser to my condition.
Until I blunder, gracelessly.
Ripping away the sheer gauze curtains that veil the face of disaster looming menacingly through windows of your mind.
#PopCulture
614 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
9th Dec 2016 1:02am
9th Dec 2016 1:02am
I Care
I curse vehemently as the net closes up around me.
That trap of 'I Care'.
Why do I let people do this to me?
My cursing continues as I struggle to cut myself out with my trusty pocket knife.
Cursing decays to an ejaculation of gibberish promising only unrestrained violence.
I sacrifice plenty of flesh and blood to free myself from the bind, my blade cutting me as it cuts the fibers, with no discretion or distinction.
I fall back to path I was on before my mishap and swiftly move to safer territory.
My Fucks flap and screech as I force another small...
That trap of 'I Care'.
Why do I let people do this to me?
My cursing continues as I struggle to cut myself out with my trusty pocket knife.
Cursing decays to an ejaculation of gibberish promising only unrestrained violence.
I sacrifice plenty of flesh and blood to free myself from the bind, my blade cutting me as it cuts the fibers, with no discretion or distinction.
I fall back to path I was on before my mishap and swiftly move to safer territory.
My Fucks flap and screech as I force another small...
#PopCulture
621 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
8th Nov 2016 4:07am
8th Nov 2016 4:07am
Death Card
I'm waiting for my Death card to be turned.
Not because I'm waiting for my death.
Of course I am.
How could I not with snakes writhing in my belly and a balloon in my windpipe?
No Its because I'm waiting for change.
I'm waiting for the fresh hell to make this agonized limbo seem a paradise.
I'm at the proverbial bus stop, chainsmoking.
When it comes, the suffering I'm speaking of, it's going hurt.
It's going to shake the marrow of my bones to ruin and smear my blood across this world as if I'm a bug on a windshield.
But that pain will have purpose.
I...
Not because I'm waiting for my death.
Of course I am.
How could I not with snakes writhing in my belly and a balloon in my windpipe?
No Its because I'm waiting for change.
I'm waiting for the fresh hell to make this agonized limbo seem a paradise.
I'm at the proverbial bus stop, chainsmoking.
When it comes, the suffering I'm speaking of, it's going hurt.
It's going to shake the marrow of my bones to ruin and smear my blood across this world as if I'm a bug on a windshield.
But that pain will have purpose.
I...
#PopCulture
586 reads
0 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
8th Nov 2016 2:25am
8th Nov 2016 2:25am
Royal Whore
A woman painted in scarlet tones
Tempts the man atop pillared thrones
Sensuous placement of silver rings
Gives gleaming light to darkened things
Seduced by sighs and softer form
Lays hardness within tender storm
Bursting sweet with sugared lips
From which the drowning kingdom sips
Breeding addicts of pleasured stills
From silken sheets to dirty swills
Placed among secret tombs
Left to dance in harlot's wombs
Tempts the man atop pillared thrones
Sensuous placement of silver rings
Gives gleaming light to darkened things
Seduced by sighs and softer form
Lays hardness within tender storm
Bursting sweet with sugared lips
From which the drowning kingdom sips
Breeding addicts of pleasured stills
From silken sheets to dirty swills
Placed among secret tombs
Left to dance in harlot's wombs
#PopCulture
666 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Nov 2016 2:26am
6th Nov 2016 2:26am
Refill Needed
Could someone send me a lifeline?
Maybe just a light?
There's plenty of fuse lying around here
And I'm curious to know what's gonna blow.
I've grown tired of chasing bubbles through abandoned buildings. Crying over broken neon lights.
The silencing is deafening here in my desert of shattered glass.
I haven't spoken much for fear of what screams will slip out between the whispers.
The mockingbird keeps me company, lulls me to sleep with the echoes of my own whimpering.
I've named him Salt for the way my tounge shrivels in my mouth and my lips crack and bleed....
Maybe just a light?
There's plenty of fuse lying around here
And I'm curious to know what's gonna blow.
I've grown tired of chasing bubbles through abandoned buildings. Crying over broken neon lights.
The silencing is deafening here in my desert of shattered glass.
I haven't spoken much for fear of what screams will slip out between the whispers.
The mockingbird keeps me company, lulls me to sleep with the echoes of my own whimpering.
I've named him Salt for the way my tounge shrivels in my mouth and my lips crack and bleed....
#PopCulture
540 reads
1 Comment
DARK POEM
Published
6th Nov 2016 2:01am
6th Nov 2016 2:01am
An Attempt
I swallow thorns with my morning tea
And pray to a blind moon that does not know me
My hands have always held fast
To a potency of thought that cannot last
Discouragement bent my stalwart spine
I toe a broken bleeding line
Limitations demand the line was blurred
Losing footing, this course deterred
Spilled lifeblood on the altar of dreams
The white cells colored scarlet creams
Once hope loosened the grip of chain
I fell to the primal dark again
Felt safe there, cowered under Mother Madness' wings
So light couldnt reach its...
And pray to a blind moon that does not know me
My hands have always held fast
To a potency of thought that cannot last
Discouragement bent my stalwart spine
I toe a broken bleeding line
Limitations demand the line was blurred
Losing footing, this course deterred
Spilled lifeblood on the altar of dreams
The white cells colored scarlet creams
Once hope loosened the grip of chain
I fell to the primal dark again
Felt safe there, cowered under Mother Madness' wings
So light couldnt reach its...
#PopCulture
541 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by The_Crone
