Willow o’ Wisp

Le Willow o’ Wisp

Cornhusking the dog,
It pauses,
Before sipping it’s grog,
A mixture of fermented oils from frogs.

A salesmen at start,
A sick fuck at heart,
Clyde shapens his pitch,
And my lips; how they part.

Wide an’ oh so wallow,
Like this neck in a noose,
He sells me his product,
As my hands won’t come loose.

The bonds o’ his trade,
Le willow of wisp,
A fragment; no spade,
Of hell and its bliss.

Behind me he walks,
Continues his talks,
And slithers his husk around my kin.

Making me watch,
He delivers his thoughts,
Oh; how do the knives even talk?
And;
“The darkness always wins.”

Creepy Doll

Creepy Doll

That clay-mold doll,
Strung up on our wall,
Is funny.

Stare out to the night,
An insomniacs call,
Red eyes stare me back,
Coarsened with fright.

That clay-mold doll,
You strung on my wall,
Is daddy.

A pale moon flight,
Three hallows prior,
Mom found him at sin,
Before stealing his light.
That old clay doll,

Strung up on my wall,
Is stretching.
Bending and breaking,
Clacking and creaking,
Faux-sect protrusions,
Of potters good wake.

That clay-mold doll,
Strung me up on the wall,
And started to sin for the old days sake.

Daily Prompt: Zoo

via Daily Prompt: Zoo

 

Zoo

The way I am with you,
No excuse could do,
For why I never left.

That time you caved my nose in,
_______________________________  Like a babe screaming murder,
_______________________________________________________________ ‘Bout a thing I never did.

The way you beat our kid,
Should have broke my lid,
If that didn’t, well nothing ever did.

Just tear me asunder,
Call me your bitch,
Let your friends know I’m worthless,
A stone-cold witch,
So you can feel something,
Let ignorance be bliss?

I could have run home,
Brought Martin there too,
But,
I chose to stay here,
And let you do me,
In.

The backstroke was vicious,
The words; they were cruel,
I should have saw it coming,
That day in our zoo.

A broken dormant wolf,
Snarling over the years,
My mom saw it coming,
So you cut off my ears.
Whispering a sweet poison,
I only ever believed,
Because I was too broken,
To just fucking see.

So rape me again,
__________________Please kill me this time,
_________________________________________I’m too afraid to do it,
_________________________________________________________________And leave Martin behind.

 

 

Cheater

Cheater

Amazing face,
That’s all I see,
Let me taste,
Our serenity.

How could I lie,
That ill-thought night,
I made you cry,
A soul-torn plight.

I do admit though,

Low-born fire,
Inside this knot,
You called me a liar,
Said; go fester and rot.

On purities pyre,
A monolith grows higher,

Strewn through pain I wrought upon us both,
That night in the fire.

But you still know this,
If I ever spoke truth,

Alone;

I’d be a night-crowns kill,
A shell of a man,
So love you I will,
As much as I can.

Jagged

Jagged

_______
You’ll never believe:

Some people break and stay broke,
Some people break then make,
the best of the rest.
Others,
Try to put the pieces back,
but the jagged edges stick out,
and cut those who try to help.

Please,
Shatter my rotting soul,
Grotesque and festering mold.
So,
I can put them back right.

Please,
Bring me that light,
and,
let it pierce my shell; so cold.
Do we need to grow so old?
Just want to do what I’m told.
Tell me.

Blood-Hound (Poem + Drawing)

Blood Hound   —–>PDF with proper formatting, manuscript below. 

 

Blood-hound

________
I’ll be your sick-bird,
you be my blood-hound,
My hearts in your mouth,
Breaking neck spins round.
But,
You’re not the one to blame,
You see; I can’t complain,
This is all you’ve known.
Blackened bloody mold,
Just doing what you’re told.

Your love was a warhead,
A straight time-bomb,
You taught me this lesson,
That I ain’t so strong.
Take your pound of flesh,
Don’t matter if it’s right,
Hit me while I’m fresh,
You know I’ll never fight,
As long as you let me,
Love you more than this life.

So here’s to that jaw,
Tightening ‘round me,
I’m just your dead-bird,
So be my blood-hound,
‘Cause baby,
You’re the one with teeth.
And all I am is meat.

_______________

7×11 cut watercolor, Pen and marker. Edited fox

The One thing I got Right (Poem)

The One thing I got Right
_____
You lay there and seem,
A goddess to me.
Vibrant deadly stream,
the painting from my dreams,
fire-born Seraphim.

You are the one mistake,
I won’t break,
because kissing you,
Brings me closer to heaven.

And the way your breath,
Ignites winter’s air,
Could save me from death.
This time that we share,
the truths we lay bare,
All let me know,

You are the one thing,
I did right,
the only mistake,
I’ll never take,
For granted.

Yeah,
we’re measured in heart-beats,
as we start flying away.
My love,
piece me together,
and tell me to stay.
I don’t know what’s holy,
but baby we are.
Forget the darkness,
that pain of yesterday,
let me sew you together,
as love lights the way.

Stay here with me, and there’s nothing we can’t create.
Tell me you need me, because that’s all that I say,
Your love is like heaven, so show me the way.
____________________

Frozen Flowers (Drawing in steps+Poem)

Frozen Flowers
______
You brought me flowers,
The beautiful things.
Those late-night hours,
Your touch made me sing.
Yeah,
Those flowers withered,
Hanging from our string.
A fractured blizzard hides,
Our now-forgotten rings.
Fear,
That now you are gone,
And our son’s almost three,
There is no-one out there left,
Who will ever love me.
So,
On the Mantle,
Those same flowers rest,
Let me light the candles,
I’ll try to forget your death.
Long dead roses,
Till-death they’ll remain.
Their blackened fruit imposes,
A hurt I can’t abstain.
Cause’ baby I’m numb.
And,
Every time I see them,
I feel the warmth of your skin.

A momentary bliss,
That helps me reminisce,
Your soft and gentle kiss.
_______

-Bluebeard

 

Cover-Art note: 8×11 ultra-white watercolor stock, blue colored pencil and black ink.

ArcticEditArctic

 

Reworked Poems (9/27/17) + Art

Had a few hours to tinker around with the balance of some of these. I also finished a drawing I started a few years back. As always just click the blue links for a PDF version of each poem with the superior formatting. Drawing is at the bottom.

Fractured Memories (Click for PDF version):

Fractured Memories
_______
The pain that’s easiest to hide,
Numb,
The one hurt I can’t abide.
I find,
The times I want to die,
Are when I stop feeling alive,
But you threw the die,
Told me to try,
You didn’t laugh when I’d start to cry,
Or when I told you to help me fly,
Away from here.
I wanted was to be free,
Can you be my key,
The one and only who’ll let me be,
Me.
I don’t know where I’m going,
Or how long-away I’ll be,
But you’ll live on forever,
In these fractured memories.

____________

Born of Frost

Born of Frost

________

Born of frost,
Splicing winter’s cross,
with summer’s burning moss.

They laughed and jeered,

Twelve foot tall,
A thousand thrall,
Skin; an ice-plate wall.

Now they cry in fear.

Deathly glacier,
A cruel-dawn’s slaver,
Draconian martyr,
Rapturous erasure.

Beware my dear,

The towering eolith,
No man or myth,
Fear our moiré; the WinterSmith.

_______________

Call me Faceless

_______________

Call me Faceless

________
Who am I to speak to what’s wrong or right?
One who’s closer to oppressor than victim,
I try on a long and stormy night,
To decipher this dictum,
Oblong and gritty plight.
How can I complain,
When I rest on the laurels of another’s fortune,
Screaming a phantom pain.
Who am I to say what you should do?
When I’m a short step away from weak,
Despite being one of the lucky few,
Who has money enough to speak?
Inherent disdain,
A fallacy tainting the fabric of my minds misfortune,
Learned condition renders me lame.
Do I really care,
About blood-soaked policies of an empire built on the backs,
Of those with actual despair?
Why can’t I just relax,
Cut out the fancy fucking syntax,
Abuse our militaristic axe,
Deny the horrendous acts,
Against children who couldn’t afford a simple tax.
But it’s not easy for me to lie,
When I walk outside and watch the homeless die,
Sure,
Call me weak,
Because I cry,
Because I try,
To care.
You tell me money isn’t happiness,
Then tell me not to worry; because I have enough to eat?
As if the relative suffering of others is supposed to placate my crimson-soul.
My truth;
The only thing worse than trying but failing,
Is giving up entirely

______________________

Media: 6b pencil + a bic pen.

Paper: 6×9 inch cut watercolor paper.

FullSizeRender (25)

Igor

A fleeting whisper of stagnant hope, a momentary lapse of the path you’ve walked. A hand, crying-silver, reaching for something real, a consort. You tried.

Ugly, he said. You knew, you always did, the tar-like cruelty of the rougher kids made sure you couldn’t forget, that you’ll never be more than disgusting to them.

Still you reached, grasped, needed his hand. The word flattened you, as if you’d kissed a train with somewhere more important to be. Ugly, he repeated, and your world came crashing down. The whispering lingers, how could she let herself hope?