Submissions by Viddax (Lord Viddax)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
In my spare time I have been known to end pointless threads with a quick kill. And rare than that is when I write poetry.
Lord of nothing
Words of lust and love are abound
yet I feel nothing either way.
Love is Hope
and hope is a road to nowhere
a bright path of destiny
Far from my iron-bound throne.
A delicious dark fruit
that I no longer can taste
that is lust
Far from this desert land of feeling.
Fuck off with your words
of love and lust,
I cannot give a rats arse about them
And neither do they have no place here
in my heart or my mind.
They are pointless as me
And as foreign and ignored as my words
and my philosophy.
Soon friends...
yet I feel nothing either way.
Love is Hope
and hope is a road to nowhere
a bright path of destiny
Far from my iron-bound throne.
A delicious dark fruit
that I no longer can taste
that is lust
Far from this desert land of feeling.
Fuck off with your words
of love and lust,
I cannot give a rats arse about them
And neither do they have no place here
in my heart or my mind.
They are pointless as me
And as foreign and ignored as my words
and my philosophy.
Soon friends...
82 reads
9 Comments
Why?
Why?
- As if I have any energy these days to answer,
let alone ask.
I need a holiday from myself
or at least a reason to stay here
in this world,
and more than simply being
and being bloody lazy at that.
The road to victory starts with a single step.
But why take any steps
when you have no need to?
The world is out there for the taking
but all I have is a prison
with a barrier of my own foul making,
and so I am lost
so thats that then?
- As if I have any energy these days to answer,
let alone ask.
I need a holiday from myself
or at least a reason to stay here
in this world,
and more than simply being
and being bloody lazy at that.
The road to victory starts with a single step.
But why take any steps
when you have no need to?
The world is out there for the taking
but all I have is a prison
with a barrier of my own foul making,
and so I am lost
so thats that then?
102 reads
11 Comments
Displaced Anthology
These self poems
are always shrouded with artistic fatalism:
a lack of clear presentation,
to rival an abstract picture
titled 'Upside down head'
that forever eludes understanding
though the inuendo makes some chosen few smile.
They smack more
of some half-remembered treastise on humanity
with words and ideas of a forgotten age
that maybe is romanticised and never really was
with a strange epochal lesson
about the threefold personality of one divine being
to which the relevance has slid sideways
into the obscure.
A displaced...
are always shrouded with artistic fatalism:
a lack of clear presentation,
to rival an abstract picture
titled 'Upside down head'
that forever eludes understanding
though the inuendo makes some chosen few smile.
They smack more
of some half-remembered treastise on humanity
with words and ideas of a forgotten age
that maybe is romanticised and never really was
with a strange epochal lesson
about the threefold personality of one divine being
to which the relevance has slid sideways
into the obscure.
A displaced...
85 reads
15 Comments
Combat Caterpillar
With sure strike and swift speed
the robot flies through the air
basked in monochrome glory
reflecting on its arms
along its caterpillar body
and bulbous head,
as it adopts offenisve move 56:
arms back, body down
head forwards
combat parameters initiated
and victory ensured,
an age old pose
for a new being,
a quick attack
that hies its true silver sheen.
A combat caterpillar,
a rearing pillar of attack.
the robot flies through the air
basked in monochrome glory
reflecting on its arms
along its caterpillar body
and bulbous head,
as it adopts offenisve move 56:
arms back, body down
head forwards
combat parameters initiated
and victory ensured,
an age old pose
for a new being,
a quick attack
that hies its true silver sheen.
A combat caterpillar,
a rearing pillar of attack.
65 reads
9 Comments
It is time to die
I bring suffering and leave only death.
It is a message anyone can understand
but none can escape my herald.
I am invisible though mortals leave signs
of my touch on their homes.
A rotting corpse, crucified and hanging has become their chosen symbol
but I have already marched on.
Burrowing beneath the skin I live in loved ones
and turn their joyous return
into a black puss filled day.
Boils blacker than any heart.
Skin more taut than any animal hide.
Rivers of weeping blood that no butchery can match.
I am the lone...
It is a message anyone can understand
but none can escape my herald.
I am invisible though mortals leave signs
of my touch on their homes.
A rotting corpse, crucified and hanging has become their chosen symbol
but I have already marched on.
Burrowing beneath the skin I live in loved ones
and turn their joyous return
into a black puss filled day.
Boils blacker than any heart.
Skin more taut than any animal hide.
Rivers of weeping blood that no butchery can match.
I am the lone...
90 reads
0 Comments
Too much f**king Yin
Too much fucking Yin.
That is briefly my problem.
Too much softly, softly.
Too many times were words were chosen.
Too many simpering diplomats.
Too much thought not enough fucking action.
Oh dear, what if we fail?
Oh dear, what if we die?
So fucking what.
If we die, we will be reborn.
If we fail, we can always try again.
Either way anything is better than sodding nothing.
Why can we not change the world
with demons and angels at our side
And strike from oblivion.
A roaring armoured warrior whose fist...
That is briefly my problem.
Too much softly, softly.
Too many times were words were chosen.
Too many simpering diplomats.
Too much thought not enough fucking action.
Oh dear, what if we fail?
Oh dear, what if we die?
So fucking what.
If we die, we will be reborn.
If we fail, we can always try again.
Either way anything is better than sodding nothing.
Why can we not change the world
with demons and angels at our side
And strike from oblivion.
A roaring armoured warrior whose fist...
64 reads
7 Comments
Questions
Questions!
Part of me wants to answer with a concise and precise answer. To answer with a pulverising barrage, a complete onslaught: an atomic bomb whose mushroom cloud is formed of information and envelopes the original question. An action as impossible as any alchemist suddenly finding out how to turn lead into gold using nothing more than magic.
Another part is more than enough willing to answer a question with another question and to grin cheekily at any response. Where each question breeds a thousand more showing the pointlessness of inaccurate questions. But rather than succumb...
Part of me wants to answer with a concise and precise answer. To answer with a pulverising barrage, a complete onslaught: an atomic bomb whose mushroom cloud is formed of information and envelopes the original question. An action as impossible as any alchemist suddenly finding out how to turn lead into gold using nothing more than magic.
Another part is more than enough willing to answer a question with another question and to grin cheekily at any response. Where each question breeds a thousand more showing the pointlessness of inaccurate questions. But rather than succumb...
91 reads
6 Comments
Watch and listen but don't touch
Oh sure, she is lovely,
but don't go there
where angels fear to tread
and demons have backstage passes.
And those sounds
deeper and richer than any coffee
and more like smoke,
that inspire fiery passion in you
can burn you harder than hell
should she wish it.
So when she walks by
and gives a sensual wink
watch out for the man traps
in the wake of her heels.
Watch her performance
all you want
and listen to the words
but don't you dare touch
or she'll blow you away to...
but don't go there
where angels fear to tread
and demons have backstage passes.
And those sounds
deeper and richer than any coffee
and more like smoke,
that inspire fiery passion in you
can burn you harder than hell
should she wish it.
So when she walks by
and gives a sensual wink
watch out for the man traps
in the wake of her heels.
Watch her performance
all you want
and listen to the words
but don't you dare touch
or she'll blow you away to...
103 reads
6 Comments
Those Lips
A dream. A most beautiful dream.
Memories of the dream have it start without premise. The sudden instance of setting and scene without labourious background as is usual with dreams.
A girl, dark haired and wearing an apron above her dress has her back to me. We are in the corridor on the 1st or 2nd floor. She straigtens a picture frame.
"I love her" she exclaims to me and moves on down the corridor to the left. She moves on having dispensed that barbed comment.
Possibly the walls are brown as is the floor but more likely my mind simply has them as surplus to...
Memories of the dream have it start without premise. The sudden instance of setting and scene without labourious background as is usual with dreams.
A girl, dark haired and wearing an apron above her dress has her back to me. We are in the corridor on the 1st or 2nd floor. She straigtens a picture frame.
"I love her" she exclaims to me and moves on down the corridor to the left. She moves on having dispensed that barbed comment.
Possibly the walls are brown as is the floor but more likely my mind simply has them as surplus to...
76 reads
5 Comments
Figures and faces
What will we be today?
Each day isn't quite a new day
a blank page devoid of before
a fresh start without foundations,
An epitaph spoken from elegaic lips
by the out of time tragedian
A soul full of the 'Empire of Yesterday'.
Or new wit and wonder
and maybe blunder
Olds words with bionic legs
to juggle and not suck eggs
All quick and quirk
plus a cheeky smirk
The Monkey King
In full swing.
Yet slow and purposeful imperiousness comes forth
With justly measured comments,
a defender...
Each day isn't quite a new day
a blank page devoid of before
a fresh start without foundations,
An epitaph spoken from elegaic lips
by the out of time tragedian
A soul full of the 'Empire of Yesterday'.
Or new wit and wonder
and maybe blunder
Olds words with bionic legs
to juggle and not suck eggs
All quick and quirk
plus a cheeky smirk
The Monkey King
In full swing.
Yet slow and purposeful imperiousness comes forth
With justly measured comments,
a defender...
81 reads
7 Comments
Sweet sultry (DU crush)
Watching from afar with big eyes of innocence
As she writes words of wonder
seeped in sense and seduction
Deepness and darkness sometimes accompanied by intoxicating tones.
And while these webs were displayed
and others commented on the weave
I timidly drank them in
An unknown voyeur to the sultry perfomances.
Yet for all her talk of sex and violence
and other such drugs or depravity
To simply listen to those lips
and voyage in her eyes would be enough.
The time has gone and she is married
so any flowers of...
As she writes words of wonder
seeped in sense and seduction
Deepness and darkness sometimes accompanied by intoxicating tones.
And while these webs were displayed
and others commented on the weave
I timidly drank them in
An unknown voyeur to the sultry perfomances.
Yet for all her talk of sex and violence
and other such drugs or depravity
To simply listen to those lips
and voyage in her eyes would be enough.
The time has gone and she is married
so any flowers of...
96 reads
4 Comments
Threadsecutioner
A few vague words by someone, a topic chosen and a few banners raised in response.
I jump in, first dissecting then engorging.
A surgeon to the topic then a feating vulture which repulses others away.
Lots of words and letters to make a sandstorm of dust.
Ashes and ashes,
dust and dust,
barren of responses,
blunt and warped dialogue left to rust.
- Looks like everyone has left.
All threads die sometime.
And sometimes it seems I am the reaper that makes them die.
My words a final scythe.
Still, some service with a smile and grin.
I jump in, first dissecting then engorging.
A surgeon to the topic then a feating vulture which repulses others away.
Lots of words and letters to make a sandstorm of dust.
Ashes and ashes,
dust and dust,
barren of responses,
blunt and warped dialogue left to rust.
- Looks like everyone has left.
All threads die sometime.
And sometimes it seems I am the reaper that makes them die.
My words a final scythe.
Still, some service with a smile and grin.
84 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Viddax (Lord Viddax)