Somewhere Else

Originally supposed to be a second part to the poem "The Last Laugh". But I've been editing it and adding to it and I honestly think it surpasses "The Last Laugh" in many ways. Both are unique though.

Somewhere Else

 

For now, the fire has not died to the rain yet

Whispering, I am here, to the clouds

The heavens laugh at those who fall from grace

Angels we have seen the last of fear the spirits’ harakiri

In the urban metallurgy of a cold-showers hell

That washes away my pride, as I take in stride my agony

But I am still here

Laughing

Because clowns never cry

These tears are just the unforgiving rain

Shattered pieces of my stained-glass cathedral heart

The grimoire, the Necronomicon belladonna candelabra of my mitochondria

The alabastrine messiahs tranquillizing dandelions growing from my husk of dawn

You are a lyre plucking at my heartstrings, a ventriloquist of the webs we weave

I, an iridescent marionette ascending in crescendo to the bellowing of pandemonium

Limousine of umbilical guillotines driven over the double-edge of this world’s limbo

Deep cuts, the scars that sit in the night sky in prayer for the blood of Christ

Or the blood of anyone

I want to go somewhere else

Somewhere the spirits cannot find me

Somewhere cold and unforgiving is the crown of penance I will wear

The shackles I will shine

Like a steel fortress of regret

Like a mirror that shows the monster as it is

Like a horizon's tongue shaped by the mouth of madness

With all its sheet metal skyscraper teeth rotting in the flesh of earth

Biting into God, like an apple

As if this universe were Eden

And society was to be damned, to have cast itself out

Because it did not belong

Because it took the shape of man’s ego

Because society feeds off innocence

Full of ignorant people

And never pays its debts

So must have its just desserts

A tough pill to swallow in bad taste when we break bread

The bittersweet taste of victory

But I am not one to bite the hand that feeds

By the skin of my teeth, I am still smiling

In between the cracks

 

 

 

These walls that stop me from reaching somewhere else

Somewhere better

Some tower of heaven holding up the sky pillars of grace

An endless staircase my heavy heart cannot climb

For I sleep in the basement, alone

The sun does not reach me

The sky does not bend over backwards to touch my lips

I am so bent out of shape by the hand of God

I must be an unstructured poem, with no meter, free verse but never free

I must be a crumpled page, tumbling in the wind dancing like a hurricane

I face the music alone

And hope I play my cards, write

Until victory is eating out of the palm of my hand

I never deal with the devil just to roll the dice, I don't play the fool, I cheat him

But if one with a few cards short of a full deck were to have a change of heart

Would raising hell call my bluff

And if I draw dead, would lifting spirits be the life that makes me fold?

 

 

 

The tower of heaven, I walk the stairway, I take the flight, ever wary, apothecary’s sunlight

But each floor, the foundation of every story told

These pillars hold the weight of this world’s memory

And the past is a weight I cannot deadlift, so I leave it behind

In search of a blind future fumbling in the dark alleyways of Nirvana

Looking for a place to call home

Among kaleidoscopic Holocausts frolicking diabolical

In gutters of gothic operas sits gilded streetlamps bleeding amphitheatres

Opalescent transcendence of the sentient hallucinogenic venom of static ectoplasm

Emptiness of the tempestuous sepulchres that bind me serpentine

Empress of renegades slain in the glades of nightshade

 

 

 

This is where I belong, where my puzzle piece fits in this halfway house of cards

A dark heaven of blades braided in the braille halos of mayhem’s Salem

Bloodstained-glasshouses getting stoned

Mouths of velvet melancholy open jaws of armada’s psalms sown to be sold

Stitching obituaries of equilibrium’s simultaneous defibrillator

Shut out the void of turmoil’s noise, as I sit in my own filth, pretending to be clean

The soundless singer of oblivion’s figurehead-lines the paper of homo-sapiens

Neogenesis renaissance is the devil’s celestial revelation

The lunar petunia’s communalism transfusion illuminating

Every groove ruminating the soothing luminous rejuvenation

I live under the barcode on the back of my neck

Under the skin that graffitied itself whole

Under the sin that defeated a world null

Wandering fields’ double-helixes of gold

Looking for a castle in the sand to call my home

Holding the hands of time in my own

For when it’s time to face the music, alone

My words will not fall on deaf ears

My song will not be the rusted hinges of a broken melody’s open door

I know what I’m here for

When people shout battle-cries at me

I won't curl up into a ball, whimper and die

I will echo them like a mountain they could never be

I won't crumple like a page when people try to write my story for me

As if my story hasn't written itself upon the back, cover, and spine

My gospel of scars speaks for itself

Dropping heaven's on the pedestal

A body of unfinished works climbing the path to Nirvana

Green grassland's spanning calamities of anti-gravity lavender insanity's yawn

It is as wide as the tidal oceans and as tall as unbridled God

This world may be heavy, but I carry on

What Can I Say?

The shadows are glad to be written by sunlight

Kingdoms reign in clouds that unravels like talons in mid-flight

I'll bring the sky down raise the roof like a midwife

Let the nightfall stage a curtain call's coup d'état's invite

The following act's spotlight, audience over the moon hanging on to dawn looming in the distance

Belladonna wishing-well comets on a frolicking fallen star's instant

As eye, catching on a glance

That the world looks up to them

Rising from the rafters, to play their part as aphelion

Rehearsing metallurgical verses as the show goes on ice

Eclipsing you suns of the darkside's moonshine

Eye sight my sources of kingpins on heir, plains that don't fly by me

I'll flip the bird 360 degrees when you think you spitfire, you just smoke trees

Engine running in circles getting loopy with the fruit

Of your labours but it works for me, I suppose you can manage

Higher up some planters, I'm a grown man

You're just tossing salad without dressing

I'll give you praise, but that's my own blessing

I like my donuts glazed, my poems brewed to perfection

I have a strong taste spitting cinnamon ghost peppers

When you've got a hot take give me soul food like the exorcist

I eat cereal killers off the menu with seasoned veterans and balance diets like a breakfast of champions

If you need a hand or two I'll clap them cheeks off the seat into standing ovation just like a candyman

 

Author's Note

The poem "What Can I Say?" was to ease tension from all the darker poems I've been making. It's full of puns and double entendres, and I laughed my ass off while write it. Especially the last few lines. I'm sorry I had to lay it on you like that, I wanted to joke around a little. Or a lot. (Maybe a lot) I also wanted to make fun of the trope of being a badass who brags through their poetry about how great they are. So I just got silly instead. Angst is always better when you joke about it.

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 hands-down the best thing of yours I've read in about a year (can't remember much beyond that!) I love this poem. It's very articulate & powerful. I love how the narrator expresses feelings of being "put upon" (like God has it out for him) but this is conveyed with equanimity rather than whining petulance. This feels like an anthem about taking life as it comes, shitstorms alongside smooth waters. The pitch of this writing is interesting to follow -- first more conversational for a long while, then building into a "high" of complexity, but quickly back to earnest straightforward expression, and ending with humor. You tend to use certain words & some imagery over & over in many of your poems, but this poem feels more fresh & different thru-out, than I've seen in other poems. This is well done & enjoyable to read (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Glad you liked it so much, this was definitely fun to write.

[wordman]

a mans ego,this will certainly qualify for somewhere else

[NotUsinganymore]

BVery iVery interesting write on death. Lovely poem, I enjoyed it very much!

[.]

"What can I say?" Was delightful actually, that was new to me. And the last image was NICEEEE! Had a day telling death, Not now, I'm painting! Haha! So at least there's something that makes me laugh without a particular reason, actually I'm thinking differently. And I appreciate this side of you a lot, you never fail to make people laugh even at melancholy or could be the most ridiculous things. And me trying to be funny is the funniest thing I'd think.
Anyways thanks for writing this. It's been a tough tug of war... I secretly try doing better than you with other genres but this one is tougher than the tough... I can't be funny!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm glad you enjoyed the poem!

Focus on being the best writer you can be. That's what I do. In the moment, I always hope to be the best writer I can be, and be better than today tomorrow. :)