Pandemonium

A recreation of my personal hell. Self-destruction is the name of the game.

6th grade: I leave the sanctuary of my neighbourhood school, waiting for a new beginning at the end of my rope, choking on years. I walk into the classroom made lion's den, quiet and alone

Unaware of the fact I was a lamb to the slaughter

Alone in the crowd

After school, the devil worships me, quiet and alone

I walk onto a train track, quiet and alone

Waiting for the roar of white noise to consume me

I paint over the windows in my mind I should have left years ago

The shudders are the only thing between me and the abyss

So that I’m quiet and alone

A recluse of the avenues of solitude agoraphobia’s megalomaniac algorithmic non-fiction hypnotism transmogrified full course of metamorphosis the horror story immortal

Avoiding chickens who walk over eggshells, never alone, I’ve lost my head, but my body is still running discombobulated to this day

I lose track of time, quiet and alone, in my fabricated mausoleum daydreaming reavers with the cleavers of Eden's deceiver, ensnared in the ensemble of paragons monsters godless disparity buried alive in the sunrise of another wasted moment

Every day is stagnating like a dead body that never got to live, devoured by the scavengers of madnesses havoc, the worms eternally murmured through my vertebrae in the vertigo terraforming orphanages the inaugural bottomless carnivores matador to the hurricane of thoughts that plot through the thorns of a rose-petal born petrified in the petroleum goldenrod burning inferno infinitesimo infestation manifesting in my hollow chest as the heartbeats against the bones of cold harbour harbinger targeted the matriarch martyr I encompass emptiness impressions a revenant of relentless relationless acreage for a faceless man that wears my cerebral hands like a headboard on the skull of aluminum plumerias miscarriage carrion

I sit by my computer all day, quiet and alone, afraid to lose myself, I prepare for the next time I will challenge hatred’s manifestation, the day I will walk out of my flesh and into the void

Hoping I won’t be made quiet again

When I face the hunters that wish to sell my pelt for their pride, alone

Quiet in the iridescent screaming of intravenous fealty intriguing reality’s incorporeal poltergeist integrating an invitational damnation to the right to the property of my suffering

6th grade, I walk into the lions' den

And am devoured as just another zebra by the shades of black and white between the scythes of wrong and right

Alone in the feeding spree of behemoths called society

I quietly rip apart the pieces of the puzzle, incomplete

A deer in the headlights on memory lane, my way suicidal on the highway

I walk into the den, again, as I become hungry for a love that’s decomposed enclosing on the loneliness

I walk into the den, envisioned enveloped in the melancholy melody of my swansong

And leave wearing the burden of blood

The skins of vengeance

And become my own victim

To the blood-lustrous

Consumption of myself

I become the void

Within my own heart

Buried within the flesh of nothingness, walking out of the void, into the bones of the maelstrom, the meat

Quiet and alone

Dissonance whispering blizzards bewildered by the guillotine of corpses intercourses

Divorced to voiceless that scream shimmering obsidian flesh gluttonous

Infinity is quiet and alone, hanging by a thread of memento's above the abyss yet

It steps on the eggshells like we're souvenirs

Because us puzzles were never truly whole, to begin with

Alone with the quiet of our own pandemonium

I suppose, in my head these days

I'm never really quiet and alone

(My demons' zebras will not cease their silent screams

But leashed and shackled, bound to bleed)

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.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

AMAzing strong descriptives and raw emotions and imagery well done you bared your inner self

[Pete]

well, you've certainly dissected and analyzed as you bare your soul. not fitting the mold can be a difficult road with land mines. being different isn't a crime although society would have us think so. you;re not alone - it just feels that way. awesome accompanying pics to go with your chilling words. powerful stuff for sure ... :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm happy to hear it hit hard, I intended for that, so hearing so from you is satisfying. I'll continue to work on newer works, and try to do even better next time.

[Robert Trakofler]

The sounding of the wretched is the greatest way to disarm... when touted it takes away its power and renders it impotent! that's not to say the dark doesn't yet linger but its power is weakened when it is left unsaid the strength it gains can paralyze. This is 5 poems at least within these lines and some very clever portraits were painted in here I would love to see some of these portraits painted with more detail in your wrights. your not so sinister after all:) but i feel the longing and pain within your scrawl

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you for reading, I'm always happy to share, and I'll try to improve as much as I can. Not too sinister, no. :)

[Chris Shaw]

Full of vivid imagery and rather dark, but your lines are nicely written and the images you have posted interesting. Your lines and pictures work well together. I am not too good when it comes to reading long poems, because I am busy most of the time I have the attention span of a gnat before moving on to something else.

Chris

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm happy you took the time to read and review, it really means a lot to me. And I completely understand long poems being a little difficult to finish, after all, we only have so much time in a day.

[.]

"agoraphobia" you too had this! I definitely absorbed the full poem inside me, so much like a glance of a passed time that just surged through my head as I glide down these words. There's an exact part of me here, exactly in 6th grade when I had to change my school, I felt so much like this, every day of the school was terribly rough and took 3 years to get everything fine and when it was fine, I had to go through this again, you know it well... But neither feel sorry for me nor for you, it's not our fault nor it's something you should feel pity for it's just the fact "Humans suffer themselves but they don't understand other humans suffering." But you understand and that makes you a better person than others.
I really never expected this from someone other than me to write like this, it reflects me so well, I don't know how did you but Thank You! though I know it was for you. :)
Just be happy for anything happens on Earth is always for good even if it seems adverse.
Good Luck and Lots of thanks for writing this! :)

-MC

[.]

Can I work on this poem with you as I know you keep editing your new poems? Even if not, I respect that too because it's your personal experience, so whatever you say will be respected but please let me know.
Thank You Jack!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you for always lifting my spirits. Of course, feel free to use the poem however you like!

[John the Baptist]

I would not advise reading this one if you're depressed, especially if you're drunk and depressed. It is the longest collection of dark images I have ever read. That's not to say it's not good; it takes both talent and deep introspection to be able to come up with words to describe these somber inner states. There are so many images I wouldn't try to discuss them in this space. One, however, stood out for me, "cold harbour harbinger." I would appreciate it if you could tell me where that came from.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

The phrase cold harbour harbinger means this for me. My body is the harbour, and I am the harbinger. While I was writing this part, I was unsure if I want the meaning I stuck with, or a secondary meaning where the harbour is me in a sea of people, and the harbinger is like a lighthouse. I chose the former, however. You helped me notice a spelling error, "heart beats again the bones of a cold harbour harbinger" should be "against" instead of again. I'm happy I was able to share something you could enjoy. Thanks for reading!

[John the Baptist]

You're welcome. I noticed it because a couple of hours from where I live is a place called Cold Harbor, which is dark and bloody ground. I wondered if the poem was somehow referring to it.

[Ghost writer]

I'm sorry for all that's happened to you. this poem really shows how much has.
The line where you compare yourself to a zebra in the lions den is very well written and poetic.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

In the end, I'm still here. So I'm happy with that. Thank you for reading, and I'm glad that line stuck.