Totentanz von Poesie

2008-07-04T23:23:00.000-07:00

The snow settle on the ground around the campsite, dead fire pit, and forever sleeping men.

2008-06-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

So I started to work on my project again. It is going on two years, and i only have one chapter and a prologue. I know that you shouldn't go only by the books, but this seems to be a long time. I just cannot seem to get past the second chapter. I know what needs to happen, but it all seems so contrived. Well i am giving my self till monday to finish the second chapter. So wish me good luck.

2008-06-26T20:27:00.000-07:00

Breathing in the cold, night air and feeling both trapped and free, Sam walked down the steps of the Precinct and into the city streets below.

2008-06-24T22:18:00.000-07:00

After being arrested, Sam glanced at the walls encasing him, secure, impenetrable; yet, grasping the cell door, he easily opened the door and proceeded to exit the facility.

2008-06-19T20:38:00.000-07:00

Walking briskly, absorbed in an inner debate whether different actions deserve different consequences, oblivious to the men following him, Sam looked down at his obviously bloody clothes, body, and hands when a series of simultaneous actions occurred: a flurry of hands threw his body to the ground; a blinding spark moved from his chest throughout his body; an efficient police force surrounded, restrained, and arrested him; and ferric mixture of sweat and blood from the dead man fell into his slightly opened mouth as the almost inaudible sound floated from his mouth, "Damn."

2008-06-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

Eyeing the other customers of the establishment composed of single men and women, college friends, and a few unsavory patrons, Sam swirled the glass of white wine and contemplated his goal; after a moment of indecision, Sam whispered to himself as he stood and walked to the door of the bar, “What is one more hour?”

2007-03-29T00:05:00.000-07:00

Agnes

I sit,

Standing alone

Wandering,

Against

The perils

Of

The swarming

Thoughts and

Death,

Perversions, sweetly singing of

The lost

Minds,

,The Lost

Life,

, Those phantasms of

Existence,

Loosing naught

The souls of the Immortals

Which gave

, Nothing, not for

Every

Thing

But

Themselves.

2006-11-30T16:23:00.000-08:00

Snow
drifting slowly
through panels
of clarity.

Control
the lack of
time it
takes for each
to land.

The land
absorbs the
essence of
people do
not last
forever

Each flake another
extension of
man.

The Fallen
do not
accept
death.

the coldness
of the land
purges the
sins of the
father.

cry as
the son is
Fallen.

Tears cling.

They all
watch
Humanity wither
through fire.

Snow.

2006-08-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

WAKING

Laying,
Thinking,
Wanting?
I never understood
The trials of life
And the Here After.
But as I lay
(Not yet asleep)
I worry about the trials
In which I have been convicted,
And of the jurors nobody chose.

It does not matter now,
Of course,
But I’ve begun to second-guess
The decisions that I made,
The reasons for the choices,
The division of legality.

Lying to myself
Awakens the nerves
Clustering around the divide
I do not want,
I have decided,
Yet, while thinking, I slept.

2006-08-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

Something To Be Said of Nightmares

There is something to be said of nightmares,
Sleeping soundless restless ached desire
That knows naught the prophetic fall of care,
The unrivaled darkness of thought and dire
Threats purging, mingling the obfuscation
Of the driving need developing thirst?
Twisting dynamo’s forceful motion
Forming carbolic fantasies first
Joined withered ideas with decayed ideals
Lost in gray soaked surrounding, all unreal.

Unreality blemishes the eye:
Movement corpsed,
Nature’s lifeline,
Widow’s door.
Leaving nothing, lasting never, all quiet.
The front extinguishes the meaning
Causing order chaos to develop
Questing for the last endeavor
Crumbling on the Fallen’s children.
Surrounded by the bleakness and the unquiet mind.

There is something to be said of Nightmares,
With darkness of desire and guilt
Perambulating Psyche and Eros’
Perverted, gangrenous lust.
With gaunt figures congregating
On the imagination of happy
Souls; while devils and horned
Mephistopheles danse macabre:
Requests from masochistic shades
Of joyful man desiring pain and damnation.

O jaundiced beings of darkness
Consuming life’s emptiness,
Vilifying inconsistency and hell.
Each individual washing sin in
Insincerity, while the blue-black
Tongues of liars salivate over
The translucent decay of the mind.

The Satanic erection of life
Creates the darkest depths
Of deepest desire
Relish the Sodomic decay.
Revel in the lusty and the vengeful.
Embrace the cruelty of life
And the satisfied purging that
Morpheus brings.

There is something to be said of Nightmares,
Each breath enabling the willing.
Unreality aspires, while dreams
Condense the fears into pitfalls
Of a thousand screaming Updikes.
Incubi twitter and chirp
Their Machiavellian competence,
As ones darkest despair
Enfolds for Malevolence to see.

As the sun of darkness, Despair,
Walks the elongated avenue of the mind,
Thoughts dislodge and jar the cerebellum
To act on discontented whims,
While shallow wishes disperse with
Lackluster hopes and dreams.
Grip the seditious demands of
Nonexistence.
Consider servility.

There is something to be said of Nightmares,
As melded minds twist the distorted
Chaotic visions of unreality
Into a miasma of order.
Woe-betide waifs imply evil intentions and

Knowledge of altruistic intent
Collapse on a sea of fertility.
Ideas shape from the surf
With foam, atrociousness encapsulated.
The thoughtful miracle of Prometheus.
Creation, one of doubt Unfulfilled:
Enchantment enhanced.
The dreamscape of your personal hell.

Spiders, decadent fops of Tartarus
Engage the minds in webs of truth
As souls seek a savior in desire.
None exist but those who beg
The suffering of malnourished Shades.
Honor- bound individuals suffer thought
To pass the void of lack, hot Need.
The machine of mastication feeds
The queer quiet of the dark
With the ejaculate of the spirit
Infusing the depths of sorrow
To the spires of ambition.

As the dawn approaches
The dreamscape dissolves
Leaving ideas and dark designs.
Prospect, collections, and
Beliefs perform crow-circles
Settling at last on the tip.

There is something to be said of Nightmares.