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There's a little man

that sometimes goes sailing

over the vast oceans of knowledge

that flood my head



And a pale death

swept through my vision

and pillaged the life

of those unfortunate seers



But the man was blue with envy

and had shiny lines

in shapes as eyes

with nothing under to hide



And he beckoned with a laugh

of inconceivable humor

and died before my very eyes

a solemn little man.

COMMENTS

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Angelus
01:51 Dec 20 2011

luvvit

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I fill your head with a need to believe

A need to be thankful for all you've achieved

A desire to push out reality's greed

Laughing as man makes man bleed.



I take what you have and in return give nothing

In the minds of some men I am known as something

A liar, a thief, a killer, a fake,

A world-wide prodigy burning at the stake

I am God.

The webs were fading

glossed behind the shadow

white with impurity

stretched beyond mass

over the glimpse of darting eyes

preying on life

seeking the light.



Their comafied existence

left opinions to unravel

bleeding through lies

tearing through truth

raking the blood

from the walls and floor

dried chunks of ashes.



Slipping through the centuries

decapitating mass belief

playing the field of chief

game of human thought

no words to dwell on

only strict disease

bruised by decay.

The color interferes with the lines

My eyes tell me another story

The veil over me vanished again

And I was hated by everyone

They swivel to see me move

They pierce my inner heart's wound

I'm called again to befriend you

And give back death his due.



I'm black in love and trust

A demon chose me as his

I only see the dark dear

My tongue has split in two

I strangle the earth with force

Corrupting the weak and the faint

Creating a hate for my enemy

I opress and slay bitter truth.



You lay right next to me

Not knowing exactly who I am

You hang right next to me

Never believing anything I have said.

A vision

that I have seen before

it holds itself before me

A direction

I have chosen at times

it leads me to a secret

That total infamous place

where the skin enshrines it

and leaves me hanging

swallowed in tenacious ideation

I couldn't swim out

of such dire moving nullity

But

My senses reached

a higher level

I somehow eyed a canvas

that caved in gray hues

I took heed

to the repugnant life forms

around me

They devoured my very essence

and I was stricken

with a foul disturbance

Not soon after did the vision fade

I found myself alone again

and to this very day I know

my vision quest will be the death of me.

The neverending spiral descends

down into my inner core

Another retrieved, fake lie

splinters on the tip on my brain.

I chisel my life away

to an obsolete, unfathomable dream

I seek a somber place

for my perfect soul to wilt.

All this but do I choose to see

the rewards given by eternal life?

Nay, I say, for life is a deception

built upon a false desire.

It's an epidemic of materiality

that showers me with delusion

And takes away my burden of pain

and abhors my appalling existence.

Modesty bleeds

the yolk

of life's

unfortunate

desire's

to mask itself

into hope

lying

to the masses

framing

and

signifying

death eternal

that lies

in wait

for something

anything

that can be grasped

to take hold

of the

little strand of life

left

before venturing

on the very long journey

of your soul

to search out

endless meanings

and

to reassure

that to fear is to live

and life is death.

COMMENTS

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venumstings
23:14 Sep 22 2010

(Bows in utmost reverence)

This is lovely vertical poem with lovely flow of rhyme. All poems are so nice that I read them twice.

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I die

As I am

myself,

lonely,

nothing special,

seeking acceptance

bleeding honesty

living in the dark.



I pale at life

as I pray for it to cease

and leave me be

with pain and suffering

in the darkest depths

of my hollow mind.

Frail, loveless and thoughtless form

A beauty so fragile, none alike

Her milk-white skin and ebony hair

Has pierced my spirit

I tremble at the sight of such elegance

I am pitiful beneath her

So I sink into her happiness

And I find myself afraid of life

Her charm, it scares me

It's the cause of her rape

Her mind, it's silent

And never speaks

I thought I knew her,

I thought I loved her,

but her touch turns me pale.

Tis I who see the rushing dawn

Crush down to gather once upon

This mighty, filthy gangrel son

Whose maiden's heart has fairly won.

The seers all say the day will come

When valiant skies shall burn to rum

And seeds be planted into the sum

As death sways heavily to and from.

Alas, gray clouds at once be gone

That rained and caused sweet sorrows song

To wither into the great beyond

By journey's day and night alone.

You appeared

Unknown to me

Until now

Lingering over me

And in my head

I don't know you

But I feel you

What you mean

When you say

Those little things

And I hear you

When you don't say

What should have been said

Yesterday

In one weeks time

We were lost like lovers

Between the sheets

Of Sodom and Gomorrah

Never meeting or knowing

What the plan was

Never seeing our eyes

Meet and make love

I never got to say

how truly beautiful you are



Let me start by complimenting

on this work of art



Your smile can make a country

go from rich to poor



Your eyes can make a man of God's

jaw drop to the floor



Your hair is but a veil

to hide the secrecy within



Your hands are nothing more

than the focus of your sins



Your lips they mutter words

that leave so many scars



Your breath is like a fire

that burns apart my heart



Your body was created

so in crimes it could partake



Your soul is just the vessel

that led to this mistake

Infected

Misdirected

Silhouetted in the shades of time

Discarded

Disregarded

Inherited through the pains of life

Disease

Unease

Spiraling through ill

Relent

Descent

Tumbling down the slopes of existence

This was written for my grandfather Thormann William Clay Sr. who passed away, March 16th, 2006. It was read at his funeral in California in my absence.



"Pop"



Born April 6th of 38

As Thormann W. Clay,

This little tyke would lead a life

That we'd all cherish one day.

Through the years his mom and dad

Would quietly pass away

And he'd be left to play the role

As father and husband Clay.

He'd wake up early, make his lunch

And head out to his truck,

Faithfully, to work all day

To give his family much.

Come suppertime, his hungry gut

Would call him to the table

But not before he washed his hands

Clear up to his elbows.

And in the morning, breakfast was

Fried eggs, bacon and toast

Not to mention a big glass of milk

Is what he liked the most.

Then one day his kids grew up

And had children of their own,

His grandkids called him 'poppa' or 'pop'

And thats how he was known.

He rode his motorcycle

Every chance he could,

And liked to shoot his guns

In the mountains or the woods.

He liked apple pie and westerns

With John Wayne on the screen

And fishing in the outdoors

And country and oldies.

He squeezed my knee

He made me laugh

And he laughed at me too,

He spanked my butt

When I was bad

And I ran to Nan, it's true.

I have so many memories

Enough to fill a book,

I'd like to share with you

To me the last words that he spoke.

He was sick and in the hospital

And I called up to his room,

The same day he was put on life support

Cause I didn't believe it was true.

I asked him, "How ya doing Pop?"

He said, "I'm dying." then laughed and said, "Nah."

I listened on the phone as the silence grew deaf

And this is what he told,

"Tell John I'm sorry

That I couldn't talk,

The doctors were in here

And I had to get off.

Please tell your dad

The fishing trip is on

If I don't die

Before too long.

I'm 68 years old

I'll be 69 next month,

And I can't breathe

And I can't walk.

Don't smoke."



Rest well Pop