Remembering December

Another older poem.

A lisp’s whisper whips the surface of the water, lycanthropic unstoppable martyr of the unsung warlords striking the cords of my guitar; rebar marriage to a miscarriage

Under the veil, another nail in my veins

Bountiful mountainous kaleidoscope utopia plentiful sentimental in the sediment consensual consent of beauty

A slave to the Wanderers’ glade, a grave to a blood-bonded humanity

White and red undead, bedtime comes, to the sons of Canada, live a life of endless fantasy, a nightmare for the unbearable, insatiable in a Petri dish, God’s last wish to dine for free, minds to be never resigned to peace, melancholy holocaust

I think I’m lost in the frost of my heart, solid hide on the inside, misguiding my apartheid, realizing my suicide, under the lines a concubine concluding this reunion, ruined

Focused the musical mucus flows down my face, rearranged

Flee the meaning, retreat into being, deceiving yourself

Guessing game, mistaken blame in this hell

Sire the high-wire beast of beliefs of peace before the clowns war-bound drowns us in the sounds of the mountains, fluctuating in the escaping hatred sated damnation concussive functions premonition fissure earthquake inside God’s latent divine innards, hiding parasite sinners

Haunt the unwanted confront the conquest and never rest in the molestation of everything, bring the bombing to calm the monsters, onslaught the robotic sociopathic master's harlots tropical maniacal violence prone penetrating the mere mention of the womb of something new

Bland in the plastic plantation isolating

Reembrace chase the starlit cosmic curse of merciful mended nerve endings connected then severed in a second

Cleanse the offenders

Agonize the tribes of mankind, caramelize the sunlight, inceptions weapon, renaissance undefended

Remembering December

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.