Blood

Had a rough time lately. My psychotic symtoms have backed me into a corner. My depression is still strong, and my body and brain hurt and aren't working properly. So yeah. Fun times.

I sold myself shortcomings, they've brought me a long ways

When I picture this world, I always draw blood

The spiderwebs of the ones who pull all the strings are my chains

The silky chrysalis of a shell of a man

The soul of the body left cold in the dirt

 

Sometimes I photoshop the apocalypse into a suicide note

The sound of windpipes silent on the grave of heaven

Break your hatred, across the face of God’s sodomy

Raped by homo-sapien agathions weightless

 

Grow the light

From their eyes

Take what you see

Leave what you heed

 

In their feed, consuming their media; their hatred

 

Alabaster shadows manifest deathless

Ripped apart like a flower blooming

The flesh is hubris Cerberus

Hanging high, on a pedestal, eyes on the prize, evangelical

 

Decay the warmth

Slay the North

Obey the cold

Rule the world

 

I’m closing in on falling apart

When we come together as distant enemies

Wax wing sculptures of the sulfur pulse of nobodies

The breath of the pure essence of decomposition

Corpses dancing with Rorschach vaccinations, mind my half a head

 

As every poem turns to dirt

To grow the futile boxes of limbs

That throttle the engines in their hearts

With their hands hungry for flesh

 

That they can never eat

Clipped wings that fall through the earth

I’m so sick of ill minded vomit

That I’ve stomached for years

 

Locked inside ribcages, where is your heart, disembodied?

Held inside my fist, flipped the world on its head with a coin

Pay the price, for the chance you took, you lost the bet

I’m still here

Dying for your apathy, glad you finally learned to love somthing

 

Bloodshot bandage, no sights

But you’re blinded by anger

I guess we don’t see eye to eye, you don't share my vision

Because you look the other way

 

Every time you see blood

There are no tears, I just flow like a river

Like a poem, like my blood, like this bullshit

And even half dead I’ll be laughing one step in the grave

 

Because you can bury the past

But my voice echoes

In memory of the graffiti turned blood mural

Look at your hands; you can’t bury them

I'm still here, painted on your canvas; lifelike

Rusting on the metal of your soul

The body a dilapidated temple, brought together as one

In the firearms of our mother, terraforming cornucopias

Drink from the scratchmarks on the surface, divergent

 

 

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is one of the more congruous poems of yours that I've read. There were no places where I felt your message skipped to a different track. I love how you varied your line-length & manner of expression, here & there, yet the message stays consistently marching along. Some amazing statements . . . that first line blew me away with meaning! "photoshop the apocalypse into a suicide note" -- pure creativity! "I’m closing in on falling apart" -- love the matter-of-fact irony of this. "As every poem turns to dirt" -- at first thinking this meant bad poem, but then I realize it's the opposite! Poem is dirt where creativity grows! So many clever phrases that can be turned around & admired from different angles like sparkling ornaments hanging on a tree. In a few places, I was reminded of how, when I was taking meds for bipolar, it felt like the medical establishment held all my strings . . . I was beholden to them to get the drugs that they taught me to require (now I don't use meds, altho I know this isn't always an answer for some). This is nicely mind-probing, with a strong sense of self-identity (nobody is going to f**k with this narrator) Fondly, Margie

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you so much Margie. Your words mean the world to me! :)

[.]

Wow! This is an awesome poem, I'll review this properly later right now I've enjoyed reading the first three stanzas and they were really nice. :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Glad you liked the start.