Tag: Poems

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Promethean

oldepunk

I’m cold as rain Pain is my home this sound of Armageddon grey tremors abound feeling for some meaning as we watch eclipse Pain is my home sun is in the sky there is a roof over my head and a tomb in which I lie It drips icicles of fire into my veins and I lay upon a pyre breathe in my smoking remains Pain is my home hither it comes, tearing me down I feel it again recourse in your gaze we acquiesce to fear and what’s to be highlands awash with our regrets weather comes crashing in … Continue reading Promethean

poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized28 Comments

Ring Of Hemlock

oldepunk

I arrive in time to forget to gather myself for the fall oak, leaf, ash, hemlock Sacred pushing and pulling, seismic the grip of adulation I coalesce the notions of ardor gather and weave the wreath of Tristan and Gwenhwyfar armor burnished the colours of morning forests and rolling hill the mists are dew on my tongue but not to beguile, lo to harken unto maiden fair laissez faire, drift upon cloaked clouds of her breath and seek harbor in her breast as an embraced ideal of peace as equals, in part to impart the bond of love so deep … Continue reading Ring Of Hemlock

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Sarajevo

oldepunk

only the good die young, she said, on her way to Sarajevo I saw her face again in a former life. As the rain spatters against my window pane I am reminded of the love which left a stain that just don’t wash away. As she walked away, I felt a tidal wave, I dreamed this day, but in the dream it did not go this way but that’s life I guess I know. Flying cranes and paper planes remind of her voice it was like swimming in the daffodils and surrendering to all you fought against I wish there … Continue reading Sarajevo

Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized30 Comments

make Believe

oldepunk

Kiss kiss and make-believe. Former slaves no longer free. That’s not me. I am not free to be. One or three. Coarse touches in loving hate. Touching my body but not my face. Clean the plate and do not be late to the falling of the city gates. Wrap yourself in flags and olive leaf. I still do not believe. Conceive the intricacies in which to populate the morning news hypocrisies. More or less punctuating the state of our loose skin and crumbling facade disease. Unease creeps up into the playground of the democracies. Where we go and what we … Continue reading make Believe

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Live Mi

oldepunk

The cannibals have eaten All of the good choices Beseech the gladhanders Upon the beach of glamour One shoe too large One sock too small Selling all the lamest fashion At the brand new unnecessary shopping mall Overpaying spoilt youth to be rude To the people who need the work the punishment rarely meets a crime the shine is off poor dustbin grins the Tower is crumbling and the mad scramble for bread boxers boxing in boxers with martial art run from the wind and rain I’m feeling something here some may call it pain some may call it a … Continue reading Live Mi

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Pursuits

oldepunk

mundane pursuits take care of my own exercise my right I do not condone ever all the whispers sibilant seductive rants I wonder, wandering the truth the tumor in my brain is eating of the whispers cannot grasp or hold onto me unflinching impartial perceived reality when my senses are continually shaded ever all the whispers cloud your speech you run from truth faster than fleeing sharks on a beach media propagate the testimonies alluring little ghost stories like the prophets of disco and evermore the whispers grow statements of fact, losing tact befuddled by liquid pictures the truth is … Continue reading Pursuits

poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, ramjet poetry, Uncategorized22 Comments

Snakebitten

oldepunk

She was a snakebite all applewood smoke and sundowns forthright and out of sight it was a shakedown and it started with a frown I was a poor boy all limbo shine and coarse ground Midnights and gasoline all we need to motor through the tall light smeared dirty clean with a hand out shave off an inch or two heavy hands and nicotine just need a spark bathing in the fountains of another trailer park bruising in this shitty town she was a snakebite She was so loud you never registered her sound I knew it was a shakedown … Continue reading Snakebitten

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Cooling on Nothing

oldepunk

A devil moon hums upon the winds of summer and the decaying orb falls on us…. I suppose after surprise we will feel neglect The bronze painting in the window will not talk to me anymore and the pale reminder I once treasured has faded The current still runs hot a flash of life in this stilted death-hall We breathe in the detritus biting bullets and watching heroes I writhe in my own anger seething with my inability to change it knife cuts clean jargon talk Mephisto Waltz shoot me on the corner I love to die in the spotlight! … Continue reading Cooling on Nothing

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Crimson Honey

oldepunk

Cynical in silence slaps the twilight problems dance like fireflies in wind a rueful play on words crashing into inner soul a mellow vision simmers in the summer heat impractical in its own way reminiscent of mistakes drawn from the deck clouded mind fumbling thoughts of despair the love on the way-side; stays hidden waiting blindly for an answer languid with rigorous activity disperse the dream into many days castles crumble into ruined bones crystal lake turned to stagnant pools and shadow clings to it all lapse into unconscious chatter about what may have caused the downfall of the doorways … Continue reading Crimson Honey

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42417

oldepunk

It’s all slipping.  It’s sliding.  Incongruous.  Untoward outwardly forward.  Mellifluous.  I put my skin on backwards to see myself from the inside, out.  I wonder what went through that medical supervisor’s mind when his employee shot him.  “Hey, this is what I am on the inside.”  I don’t know.  It’s fucking tragic.  I dislike quite a few people, and I have some former employers I despise, but to take a life over some job?  Poor soldiers.  Taking lives is their job.  I like the smell of lilacs and jasmine.  Fragrances are soothing.  Nuclear winters in Korea.  Skiing in a HASMAT. … Continue reading 42417