I like this. Great flow and interesting imagery. The mental image of a 'razor-bird' alone is powerful. I also love your poem The Masterplan of the Grimoddwin Man. I remember the story about Raw-head Rex and I like the spin you put on your poem to make it sound more like a Celtic bard's tale.
Addiction The simplicity The smoothness of the uncut pages of my heart Here lies my bleeding veins Fed by chambers hollowed and torn apart The breath squeezes from my lungs As if an iron fist held fast This wretched heaven; life fluttering, pulse pounding Raked each cry from me as if it were my last The headlands of my memories Cut dark horizons on pale skin And each razor held in trembling grip Split those thoughts so paper thin And my mind zoomed toward oblivion Those hollow chambers echoed long Each beat followed in desperate step To some obscure and painful song Save me! Release me! A violent plea Shackles bind these claw-like hands Dreams, they chase me through twilit day And I lose myself on on tear-wet lands
A fine poem Jessie, very introspective. "And what shoulder and what art could twist the sinuses of thine heart?"
"When thy heart began to beat, What dread hand forged thy dread feet?" I love that poem. my fave line: "In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes?"
Beyond the Gray Dogs Howl. In the spring of Mim, Odin’s eye did sink he plucked his siteful orb and pledged it to the wide-famed pool. As the ball did fall it glinted at the well and cast a worthy wisdom spell. He drank the wine black spill and his sightless socket saw across the wide expanse, beyond the gray dogs howl, near the pond that Hylas found. And on that blasted ground the steps of men did pound, and giants join in battle and a dragon scorched the ground. A wolf ate half the moon, as to confirm a doom, that the trickster does ride forth on Ginnungagap’s blasted plane, to meet the father of all the slain. The gray dog howled again and the battle then was joined, for who can stop the wine black sea when the wind does call, the tree of life will fall! And all those hero’s in his thrall, throw their lives into the maul, but one by one they all too fall. Giants too die proud, gods and monsters all abound, broken on the muddy ground. And in the dark black night, the sparks of fire light the bodies bright as Muspellsheim the kingdom of fire fell from the ravaged sky. Midgard did then burn, and into ash Asgard too was turned forever to be lost amongst the bones on Ginnungagap. So Odin looked away, and closed his socket then in shame, but the sightless eye had seen, and forever in his waking dreams the one eyed god will scream, as he hangs in penance upon high Yggdrasil. So drink not from the spring of Mim, remember what Odin's seen? Would you understand yet, or what or would know more?
This sounds kind of similar to what a dead friend of mine wrote, the Albatross ( the name of the poem).
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (21 October 1772 – 25 July 1834) was an English poet, Romantic, literary critic and philosopher. He is probably best known for his poems 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' and 'Kubla Khan'. The Albatross was one of the major symbolic elements in his poem 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner'. From that comes the expression, 'To have an Albatross around ones neck'.
Echoes Down a Windy Hall A metronome ticks away the beating of his heart. He’s here, in this world again and it’s an ache to function. There’s a taste in his mouth of profound numbness, like intoxication, but joy has fled because the sadness has come again like it always does. Like a cloud it came, whist Hypnos ruled, and in his dreams it tortured him with a repetition of inanities until he was driven to wakefulness. In the dark he chanted his litany, the one he always used when the mad, bad gloom enveloped him. ‘Nothing, No One, No Where! He chanted as if to cancel himself out of existence, soon he knew the sun would rise and the demon would be again consigned to its stony cavern. And as dawns false promise filled the sky, he sped to his work, but as he treads through the empty streets in the house he’s just deserted, a sleeping cat awakes momentarily as the first shafts of light lance through the panes. It flicks its ears disinterestedly as a cloud half-visible in the shadow mote by mote dissolves. ‘Next time it’ whispers as it echoes down the windy hall.
The rain softly spoke to me, it said "don't go" The cold kept quietly whispering in my ear "You don't have to leave" The bedsheet, bathed in our body heat and embracing, asked me "Why don't you stay?" The blanket, old and wise, guarding over us like a sentry in dawn told me "Move close to her" Her hair, flowing like an untamed river on the pillow ground, beautiful in it's indecision of flow, murmured to me "Come near me, I smell of comfort and familiarity" Her skin, smooth and young, a terrain of familiar features and markings reminding me of home, requested from me "Come feel my warmth" Upon the first caress, the first landing she turned and enveloped me with her arms, holding me close, still asleep, probably holding on a sweet dream and my body screamed to me "don't move, just stay, there's peace in her arms, a kind the world has never known" All the while the minutes mocked me, shouting "This will all end" Each minute more condescending than the last Each minute growing more irksome as it neared its end. Losing it's precious few seconds, it saved its last breath to proclaim the futility of it all. Each minute sent by the world to drag me closer to our eventual reunion. Then her warm breath on my neck drowned out the minutes voices Her scent quieting all, friend and foe, speaking only to me, said "Let it be, just let it be" and that's all I needed to hear.
So... I was doing quite a bit of hard drugs a few months ago... (it's true what they say - drugs bring you creativity, because as creative as I am, I doubt I'd be able to write something like this without outside influence) ...and this one did something to my brain, and one day during a comedown, as I set in my cubicle at work I wrote the following. It would make one great short cartoon... Anyway, here it is: Septu woke up in cold sweat, because the giggles always make him perspire cold water. He put on his sandwich shoes and went out for a smoke on the ceiling. When he was done he went back into the telephone and jumped into the switch, where it's safe - where only water could engulf him and no soundwaves could bounce off of his nose. The thought of a monkey ripping out his nostril hair startled him quite severely. He ran away to Algonquin park to meditate on top of a tree as 3 bears were setting their beds right under, wearing blond wigs. When the bears finished dining on 'coon soup they took off their tuxedo butterfly ties - more like they loosened them - and proceeded to light their individual pipes containing angel hair pasta. When they were done they felt like taking a number two because smoking relaxes your bowels, and so they proceeded to wipe with the rabbits. The rabbits' cylinder hats fell to the ground and got some dirt on them. They felt dirty and used so they never bothered to clean up. What's gone is gone. The bears decided to perform a little show for Septu. They put on overalls with one big red button to keep the overalls on, and did a few Chinese acrobatics tricks, the whole time smiling to be good showmen (showbear). They were wearing red lipstick as part of their act). For the final act, when they were done, they stood on one leg, coordinating their acrobatics and went "ta daaaa" with their hands. The flat top hats appeared on their heads, with the red ribbons, that matched their red lipstick and red-striped overalls. Then the 3 of them turned into one small butterfly moth and fluttered away into the bushes, never to be heard from again. Septu left his comfortable caccoon and turned into a fast cheetah. He started running in the woods, sprinting towards the piece of bloody cheese awaiting for him 17 miles deep into the forest, inside the wizard's sleeve. He kept running with agility, thinking of his prize as a tiny red deer alberta sasquatch dove down on him and picked him up in his claws, taking him high into the sky. Septu turned into mist and dove into the tiny sasquatch's nostrils, invading his lungs. The lungs were dark and moist and beehive like. Each beehive-like cell had an incubating sasquatch egg. Septu said "a ha!" and started invading each egg simultaneously, looking at what's inside. What he saw inside were smilies. Yellow emoticons with a colourful mother-of-pearl borders. Almost all the emoticons were smiling and 2 dimensional. On the back of each emoticon, where the sticker normally goes, there was a portal which was connected to the place where G-d creates tiny red deer alberta sasquatches, and sends them to populate the emoticons, being the soul that goes inside the built thing that awaits inside the egg. The emoticon basically has a personality, and when the R.D.A. sasquatch soul bonds with it, they become one entity. That is why RDA sasquatches "barf" their babies out. Septu was caught offguard by the sasquatch so he changed all the smilies and turned them into Sheppard's Pie, thereby creating a brand new species of Sheppard's Pie Sasquatch mutations. Months later, as the father sasquatch was barfing his kids out, he proceeded to eat them because the sheppard's pie looked mmm mmm good, like there ain't no tomorrow. From one pipe down the other. By then Septu was trimentions away from the ordinary and the forest. He went back to Forest Hill to invisibly visit the grade 10 japs. He poked them with a stick and danced on the basketball court. They got so excited that they bought cafeteria fries and put them upside down on their heads with the gravy dripping off of their ears. Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image!
I was sober at the time I wrote it, but a comedown lasts about 4 days, and it was the first day. I was really really out of it and not in any sort of condition to do work... I was also severely underslept. Very irresponsible behaviour (I don't do this anymore). But yeah, I think as strange as it came out, it's a pretty interesting piece, no?
I would say it perfectly encapsulates the mind of a person on a drug binge, having had a similar drug binge experience I thought it was interesting to say the least. =p
U got it. It was a morning hangover in the midst of a multi-day binge, in the midst of several multi-day binges with only 1 week in between each. Shitty period... Oh well. It's behind me Please Register or Log in to view the hidden image! And I got this brain blurb as a souvenir.
The Ghost’s of Nain. They gird their loins; they drag their chains, and reap the rising of the tide. And slake their thirst on the sea, and cry their salty sad lament. The ghost’s of Nain are here again, and whom could they themselves do blame, ill said, said ill and out again! And hit the houses with the chains. They gird their girths, they ride the rain, and fly this fear torn phantom frame. And fear does fly; they filch the fowls and skirt, the myriad shantytowns. And there they creep, through cracks they peep, And all they see, they see and eat! And those that run? They chase for fun, and pluck them all up one by one. And those that hide? They skin alive and chortle whist they tan your hide. And those that fight? Might, just might! Live to see another night. And when they go, they go away! But will be back another day. Ill said, said ill and out again! Beware the coming of the Nain.
Limbo’s White Noise Hiss. As it bit it burned, the anesthetic smell and I died for just a little while. And in that warm dark waiting there. I fought to find you; I heard your voice in limbo’s white noise hiss. And alone I searched for my lost young love. Who left me so long ago. And in the land of death I meet you yet, to me you flicked so, a glimpse, a smile a kiss, and bliss. And then a pulse did beat! ’We almost most lost you’ But I lost more, and in pain I cried for you once more. And forever beyond my minds recall you wait beside the fettered walls of limbo’s white noise hiss.
Ruddiger Pew Ruddiger Pew was just is like you, he counts them all out two by two. And when there’s only two more left, he adds them to the one that’s next. And when he measures he checks them twice, he licks his lips and wipes his knife. He drains the blood and wraps the bones; he fits them in their future homes. And in the basement he bricks them in, he carves the corpses and wears the skins And when he’s ready he does prepare, he bites the tongues and wears the hair. He combs his crop and dons he’s hat, grabs his hooks and pats the cat. So into the night he does repair, to capture those who don’t prepare. And he waits and bides his time; he cuts the thoughts and slits the lies. And then he sprinkles it all in lime; this is Ruddiger’s feeding time! His hooks glint brightly and with hands blood red he drags them all back to his slaughter shed. Yes Ruddiger Pew is just like you, and lives in number 32, so when you see him wave real nice and try to stay inside at night.
