Still Words

I've been having issues with the rhyming poems I used to be quite good at. I figured I'd revisit them. And although I'm not happy with the result, at least it's something.

Still Words

I wear the barricade

Like the antlers of mannequins

Apocryphal nocturnal whirlpools

Vertical eternity blurring

Asurging hurricane’s dilation

The esophagus of metropolis

Indoctrinated doppelgängers grasping Avalon

Laughed at passengers

On the railroad to hell

The wireless router of

An outer-stellar heart

Smelting eldritch arts

Of celeriac Rorschach’s

March forth

The madness of abracadabra

Cardiovascular stained-glass gladiators

Of cadaverous mavericks

Sabbatical sabotaged tobogganers

Astronomical chronicles

Of Molotov holocausts

Frosted like the tips

Of a razor’s ridge

Angels wings, crucifix

Reanimated ammunition

That they load into my cold freezer

Comatose seasons

Of the polaroid reels

The sleeves of Elysium’s

Reefs serpentine deep

Tie abyssal teeth together in

Neverland smiling silos maniacal

Bionic kaleidoscopes

In the tidal slope of egg-yoke opium

Opal cornucopia

Of corpse flower amalgamation

Hourglass pastures

Crafted from the afterimage

Of a glass ceiling

Masquerading masterpiece

Blasphemous cracking elastic

As the wind shimmers flower-petals

That collapsed to reap

An avatars’ cataclysms

Avalanche the stratospheres

Of immaterial aetherium

The steering wheel helium

Squealing little miracles

Blooming in the womb of the mirror

Sucking into oblivion cynical equilibrium

Cylindrical spheres

Of Valkyries born orchids

An orchard of dead bodies

I grew from the mildew

Of bioluminescent emptiness

Wedding Armageddon

Into sentenceless sentience

Tethered unsettlingly

To a heavenless perpetually setting sun

As the words fill the sink

And choke on my feelings

Draining sewage from the eyes

Of lightning striking scythes

Of half-baked writing

And it spills over me

Vermillion and cerulean

And the ink is on my hands

And they’re clean

But their still words

Of telescope’s cloaca

Into alabaster hallelujah

And malachite poltergeists

Of lucid hallucinations

In the broad daylight

Of an open worlds' pages wailing

And I have written too many words

There is a velvet sea between our worlds

And I will swallow

Hollow bones of once poems

And drown alone

Because I still remember

But refuse to hear it

My mouth carved into a Mona Lisa of lyrics

Painted into Satan’s agathion

And still, my tongue

Strains to make a sound

Scrapes the pavement braiding ground

Like an umbilical accordion

Of the primordial orchestras

While my words have worn

Their hallowed gowns

Through the vibrant sky

The night the music dyed itself

Another shade of twilight

In the alcoves of

Wyoming’s metamorphosis

Of minestrone pandemonium

Tornado’s of archangel’s halos trailing

Over the veils of a hurricanes’ railway

Betrayal of gale forcing endorphins

Incorporeal vortex

Vorpal Aurora borealis

Chalices of a calloused sky’s horizon

Diving into the cypher

Of Poseidon’s lilac iris

Like how a fairy’s marionette

Harakiri’s without rest

Eclipsing photosynthesis

Anchored to sanctuary’s ancestry

The harlequin harbinger

Of the garden of uncharted monikers

Of discarded harmonies

Transmogrified from the hives of silence

And the speaker

Of the double helixes’

Shrieks bohemian

Retreating through the wreaths

Of sleeping reapers

Organs and Gregorian chants

Amaranthine dancers on the strings of lividity

Disfigured fingertips

That play the shaking notes

Of a slipknot kissing throat

The pixies gliding riptides

Of hieroglyphic hymens

We try to understand the strands

Of damaged sands gravitation emancipation

We try to speak in tongues without any

But the ripples of tattered flags

But I suppose they’re still words

We smile with no teeth

To chew our gums with

We swallow the page and

It becomes poetry’s mouth

We cry blood and dream ink

And sometimes,

In a nightmare of some kind

Our dreams become a sad reality

And sleeping still

The words are a silent reminder

Of spiders and Christ

And different dialects

And we hear the static white noise

Of a dark world gone colour-blind

And we do not see

An end to the tunnels

In our hearts of fools’ gold

Villages of ventriloquists

In the amaryllis of our soul

The guillotine of a seagull’s cove

The waves our pulse

Our world a sandcastle

Under a venomous sky

The stardust of arteries

The tides breathing each other in like a cigarette

The sea only

A missing body of water

Beating the taunt eardrum’s

Of our inner orchestra

Stillborn words that fill

The cavity of our glass

Uncut chords vibrating

On the heartstrings of radios

And telephone cable Salems

Screaming silently

Singing psalms of ordinary words

Deep under the cloudy cloak of broken wings

Made sails of spiralling leviathans

Deep within the solitary confinement

Of our raging, tempestuous,

Deathless thoughts of nothing's release

(Corneas drawn on onyx constellations)

(In August's bottomless candelabra)

(A kaleidoscopic Ragnarok)

(Death's labour)

(Desecrated sages of mayhem)

(The oasis of chaos)

(Gobsmacked in lackadaisical dilapidation)

(Vertebrae reverberations)

(Earthquakes of Mother Nature)

(Grating in embrace)

(Bury the mouthful)

(In a stomach of butterflies)

(The depths of heavens)

(Ectoplasmic catalysts promiscuous)

(With the ominous embodiment)

(Of this whispering abyss)

 

Author's Note

Anything in brackets is not necessarily part of the poem. Just added details that I haven't quite figured out what to do with. You decide whether you'd like to read the poem with or without them.

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

[Pete]

this one hits squarely between the eyes - a power punch for sure. a machine gun of well-chosen words and conjured images. i was hooked from the beginning and it never let up. this reads like an all-out offensive in a battle. takes one's breath away.

I wear the barricade
Like the antlers of mannequins

and those accompanying pics - wow ... :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Glad you enjoyed the poem, I was struggling at the time, or at least I thought I was. It's a relief that the poem was still enjoyed by the readers.

[Onlyme]

This is like an explosion of words alluring dynamic articulate and dances on the page with great pictures to tease and please the read as well. Cannot say this still words or plan imagery.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you for sharing this poem with me! :) Sorry for the late reply.

[barleygirl]

Sometimes you do this -- name a poem one thing when the contents feels quite the opposite. This poem feels the opposite of "Still Words" . . . to me, your words are dynamic & boiling, not a bit still. As for the rhyming comment at the top of this poem, maybe you're trying to make this be the kind of poem that it simply refuses to be. I honestly could hardly find any rhyming passages, altho there were many "near-rhymes" where you seem to do a play on some sound, often a vowel sound like "eee" -- to me, this is "consonance" -- kinda like "alliteration" except with vowel sounds internal to words, rather than at the beginning (alliteration) or at the end (rhyme). I would say your writing is full of consonance even when there aren't that many full-on rhymes.

Also, in the middle of this poem, quite a few lines begin with "We" -- & for about twenty lines, this is my favorite part of this poem. This feels like you're more focused on the meaning of what you're trying to get across more than working on word sounds. I love the idea of having "optional" lines . . . we all love to pick & choose what we want to use! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Again, sorry it took this long to get back to you. But your input is always something I look forward to, it lets me know how my writing sounds, and therefore helps me improve. Thank you so much for sharing your review with me. The name is misleading definitely, but I suppose I meant still words as in, at these are still words I'm writing. I see now that I could have used this title as its own double meaning and phrase. Well, maybe I'll do something like that soon too! Thank you for reading!

[barleygirl]

I have been sketchy this summer. When mornings are cool here, ocean fog spilling over the ridge, I want to be outside puttering in my garden, not inside at the computer. Becuz I know later on it will be approaching 100* & it gets to be 85* or 90* inside this rickety cabin. So I'm usually wanting to be outdoors sucking in all that cool damp air before the heat of the day is upon us! (((HUGS)))

[.]

I like the poem with and without brackets. I have a suggestion about images. Don't depend on images to create a scene rather make the poem independent of them so that even without images they sound exactly what they should. You can feel the success when you can clear your imagination first of all. And I'd suggest putting less images (just talking about the layout) and focus literally on imagery. You're great at it but you can always improve and not just imagery, "Sound effect" is a great idea. You read "Just quietness"...did you like the minimal sound effect there? I forgot to ask this when you reviewed me. I find this play of "senses" lot enjoyable. When you don't feel like writing, it's the best time to experiment on new things it'd keep you interested.
Lastly, the first thing...stop putting yourself down, always let your readers decide how a poem is. Keep yourself motivated. Am I'm here if you forget sometimes. :D

Keep writing,
Good Luck!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'll keep this in mind for coming poems. Thank you!