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.
Oily Times in Turpentine
Oily Times in Turpentine
cracked hopes litter streams of tears,
hands are made dirty by lied-to hearts
no one gets golden wings anymore,
here piety is marked by crosses and thorns
sheets of cake lie in rows,
waiting for children
tours of elderly policemen patrol the casinos,
eager to score convictions,
their ears ring constantly.
blown hearts float on currents of dust,
to mark landings of fate and crimson raindrops
faint hearted teenage girls mix ash with honey,
to lure boys to them with open mouths
as timber wolves...
cracked hopes litter streams of tears,
hands are made dirty by lied-to hearts
no one gets golden wings anymore,
here piety is marked by crosses and thorns
sheets of cake lie in rows,
waiting for children
tours of elderly policemen patrol the casinos,
eager to score convictions,
their ears ring constantly.
blown hearts float on currents of dust,
to mark landings of fate and crimson raindrops
faint hearted teenage girls mix ash with honey,
to lure boys to them with open mouths
as timber wolves...
66 reads
0 Comments
i c me in ICU pts, I-IV
This Poem is inspired from my time as a volunteer in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU)at the Combat Hospital at Kandahar Airbase, Afghanistan.
i c me in ICU I
this one lies in pieces,
most missing...
they keep him doped up
he should be
he has a long flight back to India
this one is whole,
but is empty inside
he leaked out of himself from
a thousand little holes in his body
his spirit is mechanical, machine
his face is like purple yogurt,
they don’t know why
this one has a hole
right in the back of...
i c me in ICU I
this one lies in pieces,
most missing...
they keep him doped up
he should be
he has a long flight back to India
this one is whole,
but is empty inside
he leaked out of himself from
a thousand little holes in his body
his spirit is mechanical, machine
his face is like purple yogurt,
they don’t know why
this one has a hole
right in the back of...
175 reads
4 Comments
In Defense of Sissy Poets
![restricted poem](/images/extremecontent.jpg)
187 reads
4 Comments
Azure Azure
Azure Azure
She is fickle in her appearance, the sea,
but dresses to fulfill her own vanity,
at times she pulls on robes of sand,
in virgin-like modesty,
at times she bares her breasts,
which are the rocks,
in fits of Banshee-like ecstasy
And each lapping wave,
is a blink of her blue eyes,
as she gazes into the heavens
At the Sun, her Lover,
whose warm touch caresses her cheek,
and at the Moon, her sister,
with whom she shares counsel,
and tells secrets
She suffers us was we walk,
across her eternal...
She is fickle in her appearance, the sea,
but dresses to fulfill her own vanity,
at times she pulls on robes of sand,
in virgin-like modesty,
at times she bares her breasts,
which are the rocks,
in fits of Banshee-like ecstasy
And each lapping wave,
is a blink of her blue eyes,
as she gazes into the heavens
At the Sun, her Lover,
whose warm touch caresses her cheek,
and at the Moon, her sister,
with whom she shares counsel,
and tells secrets
She suffers us was we walk,
across her eternal...
103 reads
2 Comments
Laurels of A Dullard Species
Laurels of a Dullard Species
Who can claim holiness today?
all wallowing together,
netted by cyber-worlds,
locked in electro-carnal relations....
Who can claim magic blues-boy mileage today?
all rooted in chairs,
in front of electric windows,
agog with fiction-profiles,
most attractive, yet dreamed
Who can say that they are of nature and pine?
choking on petrol vines
that reach deep into their mortality,
insisting on covering their heads,
with metal sheets when they travel
abandoning their winds,
their pure air, ...
Who can claim holiness today?
all wallowing together,
netted by cyber-worlds,
locked in electro-carnal relations....
Who can claim magic blues-boy mileage today?
all rooted in chairs,
in front of electric windows,
agog with fiction-profiles,
most attractive, yet dreamed
Who can say that they are of nature and pine?
choking on petrol vines
that reach deep into their mortality,
insisting on covering their heads,
with metal sheets when they travel
abandoning their winds,
their pure air, ...
105 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Dresdamanx