Submissions by Dresdamanx
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am a stream of consciousness writer, who relies on my subliminal awareness to produce. It seems the harder I try to be a "Poet", the less interesting my work is.
Death of the Mom-Jean
You are gone,
the pant that knew me best,
every expanded curve,
every navel-height belted
inch of me.
I will miss
wiping cake batter
& baby formula off of you.
Each soccer practice,
church play,
PTA meeting,
run to the store.
You've been with me,
through each,
and have waited
patiently on the
bedroom floor,
while Earl and I
finished our
blessed bi-monthly
relations.
How I wished,
it was you touching my hips,
rather than his pale,...
the pant that knew me best,
every expanded curve,
every navel-height belted
inch of me.
I will miss
wiping cake batter
& baby formula off of you.
Each soccer practice,
church play,
PTA meeting,
run to the store.
You've been with me,
through each,
and have waited
patiently on the
bedroom floor,
while Earl and I
finished our
blessed bi-monthly
relations.
How I wished,
it was you touching my hips,
rather than his pale,...
#dark
#mother
#funny
76 reads
6 Comments
Applaud the Abuse
Each tilt of the bottle,
a surgeon's cut,
precise & concentrated
a sober effort
to becoming not.
To launch the mind,
from such stale states,
into tumult and storm,
churn and chunder,
raising mad hell
from within.
To be reborn
a screaming Banshee,
raging in the streets,
kicking and biting.
To rage against
the ones we love,
and to personify
the darkness
so cleverly hidden
behind such putrid lies.
No one cares
No one cares
No one cares
Your private tragedies
illicit...
a surgeon's cut,
precise & concentrated
a sober effort
to becoming not.
To launch the mind,
from such stale states,
into tumult and storm,
churn and chunder,
raising mad hell
from within.
To be reborn
a screaming Banshee,
raging in the streets,
kicking and biting.
To rage against
the ones we love,
and to personify
the darkness
so cleverly hidden
behind such putrid lies.
No one cares
No one cares
No one cares
Your private tragedies
illicit...
123 reads
6 Comments
ROY G. BIV
It is rare for me,
to take a moment
& reflect
on this life.
An immortal chore,
I undertake,
providing spectrum
to your world.
It is from my veins,
the Red flows,
for leaves & sunsets,
the gem's luster &
flat mineral tones,
And a drop mixed
with sunshine,
dresses fruit
in Orange shades,
while trimming sunsets.
Pieces of my spirit,
give the sun Yellow rays,
and are worshipped
by noble,...
to take a moment
& reflect
on this life.
An immortal chore,
I undertake,
providing spectrum
to your world.
It is from my veins,
the Red flows,
for leaves & sunsets,
the gem's luster &
flat mineral tones,
And a drop mixed
with sunshine,
dresses fruit
in Orange shades,
while trimming sunsets.
Pieces of my spirit,
give the sun Yellow rays,
and are worshipped
by noble,...
80 reads
2 Comments
Tacomatose
Rainier looks down its nose,
at the urban sprawl
& recoils at the murderous intent
of the beings
in its shadow.
A tweaker killed a Sgt First Class
who tried to stop a
woman from catching
a beating.
To live through the war
only to die by a knife
wielded by some punk,
oh the irony.
This not three miles,
from my house
rented from Paris Hilton's
Dad.
...
at the urban sprawl
& recoils at the murderous intent
of the beings
in its shadow.
A tweaker killed a Sgt First Class
who tried to stop a
woman from catching
a beating.
To live through the war
only to die by a knife
wielded by some punk,
oh the irony.
This not three miles,
from my house
rented from Paris Hilton's
Dad.
...
113 reads
4 Comments
Whiskey Snowflakes
Downy drops of burning liquid
wrap themselves around my limbs.
After passing my throat's gate,
to defile balance & weight.
Melted points pierce my skin,
then numb to a fine hum & din.
Bonnie countenance, merry wit,
songs lift hearts & hale spirit.
But all the while behind the scene,
a conniving, torture stirs within.
To brew a fire in temples deep,
and rob your brain of pukeless sleep.
Heed the disappearing song's refrain,
Bukowski's curse will stew your brain.
Vain prayer...
wrap themselves around my limbs.
After passing my throat's gate,
to defile balance & weight.
Melted points pierce my skin,
then numb to a fine hum & din.
Bonnie countenance, merry wit,
songs lift hearts & hale spirit.
But all the while behind the scene,
a conniving, torture stirs within.
To brew a fire in temples deep,
and rob your brain of pukeless sleep.
Heed the disappearing song's refrain,
Bukowski's curse will stew your brain.
Vain prayer...
80 reads
8 Comments
Suicide is Brainless
Dear Friends & Family,
I love myself more than you,
that is why I am going to victimize you through my cowardly,
selfish, wasteful, sad, and useless act
of self destruction.
Please make no mistake,
even under this cloud of "depression"
and hundreds of cutting poems,
I loved myself more than you.
I hope to haunt you forever,
enjoy the pics the cops take.
I will probably shit myself
from the hanging, no big deal,
I can't smell it...I'm dead.
P.S., Tell that bitch Missy, I knew she was dating Brad...
I love myself more than you,
that is why I am going to victimize you through my cowardly,
selfish, wasteful, sad, and useless act
of self destruction.
Please make no mistake,
even under this cloud of "depression"
and hundreds of cutting poems,
I loved myself more than you.
I hope to haunt you forever,
enjoy the pics the cops take.
I will probably shit myself
from the hanging, no big deal,
I can't smell it...I'm dead.
P.S., Tell that bitch Missy, I knew she was dating Brad...
103 reads
4 Comments
Hammer & Tongs V2.0 (Haiku)
Throttle screwed down tight
speed, like rage, rains blows on streets
letting demons reign
Illegal tempos
sharply reached on fevered whims
sooth manic passions
Worlds become visions,
blurred and made less tangible
I slide through corners
No wind bites my skin,
leather shields, luxurious
Hector-like armor
This saving ride seen
by routine-driven masses
stirs hate, or nothing
No mind paid, for the
Swift campaign is mine to win,
with no spoils to share
Alive-crowned at rest ...
speed, like rage, rains blows on streets
letting demons reign
Illegal tempos
sharply reached on fevered whims
sooth manic passions
Worlds become visions,
blurred and made less tangible
I slide through corners
No wind bites my skin,
leather shields, luxurious
Hector-like armor
This saving ride seen
by routine-driven masses
stirs hate, or nothing
No mind paid, for the
Swift campaign is mine to win,
with no spoils to share
Alive-crowned at rest ...
65 reads
4 Comments
Hammer & Tongs
Throttle screwed down tight
speed, like rage, rains blows on streets
letting demons reign
speed, like rage, rains blows on streets
letting demons reign
77 reads
2 Comments
The First Son (The Apple of Joe K's Eye)
With your death,
came a dire wind,
a great foreboding,
a new kind of Doom.
We would never again,
be worthy of Princes,
or lives of our Youth,
whose blood would pay
for the folly.
Instead we elected
criminals of a new stripe,
& befuddled old fools.
We have since reaped
a blood harvest,
in souls,
& the future of our Children.
Castro lives,
Minh lived to be 79,
Teddy made it
to 77,
Hoffa got iced,
LBJ drowned,
in the blood of ...
came a dire wind,
a great foreboding,
a new kind of Doom.
We would never again,
be worthy of Princes,
or lives of our Youth,
whose blood would pay
for the folly.
Instead we elected
criminals of a new stripe,
& befuddled old fools.
We have since reaped
a blood harvest,
in souls,
& the future of our Children.
Castro lives,
Minh lived to be 79,
Teddy made it
to 77,
Hoffa got iced,
LBJ drowned,
in the blood of ...
96 reads
4 Comments
Words
Words are archaic,
as were cuneiform scratches
& the glyphs of Pharaohs.
The Runes of the norsemen,
the characters of the Ming,
Kanji, Sanskrit, and Tibet.
No longer able
to convey,
or nurture.
So how
do we emote,
the pain,
desperation,
joy,
hate?
Some use bullets,
others murder,
some use notes,
others canvas.
Words were never worthy,
belief in them,
is belief in nothing,
they were deemed holy,
simply because
of who spoke...
as were cuneiform scratches
& the glyphs of Pharaohs.
The Runes of the norsemen,
the characters of the Ming,
Kanji, Sanskrit, and Tibet.
No longer able
to convey,
or nurture.
So how
do we emote,
the pain,
desperation,
joy,
hate?
Some use bullets,
others murder,
some use notes,
others canvas.
Words were never worthy,
belief in them,
is belief in nothing,
they were deemed holy,
simply because
of who spoke...
88 reads
12 Comments
Faith & Rockets
The Muslim faces Mecca,
prostrate in prayer,
the GI faces north at Kandahar
prostrate in terror,
both directions promise salvation.
One from sin,
the other from shrapnel.
Who is to say
which way is more pious?
In lands where faith
is measured in "who kills more".
Dogma draped in disciples,
promises bound by blood,
iron versus the Word,
I believe what I can feel.
You believe in a legend,
that has abandoned you,
and leaves you,
grasping at the stars,
who laugh & pity you,
at the...
prostrate in prayer,
the GI faces north at Kandahar
prostrate in terror,
both directions promise salvation.
One from sin,
the other from shrapnel.
Who is to say
which way is more pious?
In lands where faith
is measured in "who kills more".
Dogma draped in disciples,
promises bound by blood,
iron versus the Word,
I believe what I can feel.
You believe in a legend,
that has abandoned you,
and leaves you,
grasping at the stars,
who laugh & pity you,
at the...
110 reads
11 Comments
Torture by No Torture
Tears today,
For the death
Of a whimsical heart,
No remainder
Of its blazing heat
& brilliant flame
Only smokey memories
Left to dream upon.
Left is the husk,
The body abandoned,
Lumbering without luster,
Down a dusty hall,
Lonely and stunned
Into silence,
Into reflection.
On glorious days
On glorious youth,
On glorious lust,
On glorious truth,
Into spinning,
Diving excesses,
With no thoughts
Of cost or alibi.
Now with only solitude
& oblivion ...
For the death
Of a whimsical heart,
No remainder
Of its blazing heat
& brilliant flame
Only smokey memories
Left to dream upon.
Left is the husk,
The body abandoned,
Lumbering without luster,
Down a dusty hall,
Lonely and stunned
Into silence,
Into reflection.
On glorious days
On glorious youth,
On glorious lust,
On glorious truth,
Into spinning,
Diving excesses,
With no thoughts
Of cost or alibi.
Now with only solitude
& oblivion ...
340 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Dresdamanx