Melody

Took a second look at this, and it's actually quite good. I need to have more confidence in my writing.

Psychedelic rebellion of quelling delving Cinderella melodies

 

Rippling chrysalis polycrystalline hieroglyphic (psalms of concrete) omniscient nyctophilics

 

Anterodistal aphrodisiac in the blackness of rapture’s Lovecraftian baptism

 

A ballpoint pen smeared deliriously

 

Spearheads an army of lead under an inkblot sun’s glare

 

The terpsichorean rolling waves of a cloudy page

 

Glazed stain-glass rays of the twirling sterling grey

 

The turncoat buttoned up his lips on the tail end of a cliff-hanger

 

A cold trailblazer trying to hide a wifebeater from the winter’s deathly hollow

 

Winding like a music box unravelling the spiral breeze which follows

 

Serpentine Herculean kaleidoscopic oktavists blossom melodic

 

Misanthropic prophecies born from primordial oracles

 

Post mortem orchestras of vorpal Morningstars

 

Surrendering incendiaries vicariously

 

Melting the heart of a mountainous Valkyrie

 

A golden bouquet ricochets across a brass canvas of porcelain percussion

 

Cardiovascular ecclesiastical dilapidated laughter lackadaisical lacerations of Elysium’s aphrodisiac

 

Extraterrestrial people who never held a heart in their scalpel talons

 

The jaws of their shark smiles, their scythe

 

Reaping equilibriums’ prisms of schism risen from the eucalyptus of ellipsis shapeshifting

 

Never formed into the stanzas of an army’s verse

 

Never born but still to drive the hearse

 

Umbrellas torn from morning bliss

 

Mandala’s mourn, the primrose lisps

 

Over the pit of the stomach dangles the dumb

 

The skyline built over the nightlight spun

 

The people of the bowels of the lethal dirt

 

Bury the butterflies where the spiders lurk in an empty church where the ravens perch

 

The murky waters origami choreography of discombobulated constellations

 

Mirror the sulphuric derelict as he pirouettes deathlessness carnivalesque

 

As the crescent moon carves the stars out of these scarlet iron bars

 

And the cells in the body shackle the mind

 

And the hell has a lobby and the damned have a rhyme

 

Dissimulated, we swallow the moon and shine in the sunlight left behind by maestros

 

Like a waterfall drowning rainbows, stained in the colours beyond the blinds

 

Wearing our lies on the outside

 

An exoskeleton of parhelion envelopes the vista of eclipsing willow wisps

 

The inelegance of the bell toll as the nights roll the dice fold the lights cold

 

The ice scalds the quickdraw the nightfall with a southern drawl

 

Diabolical onyx, by-products of the obelisks of godlessness frolicking swallows of melancholy

 

Fondness of floundering Valhalla ballad amalgams hyped up on devouring valium

 

Menageries of psychotropic operas copulating kaleidoscopic moxie

 

The phosphorescent iridescent f hallucinogenic evanescence blending heavens

 

Labyrinthine dreams kerosine heresy

 

These melodies of empty fights in drawn-out days

 

Sketched over a blackboard of chalk outlines

 

Names and games of ticktacktoe amidst the snow

 

And the shovel takes every special snowflake to melt into a melody of elegies

 

And I clear the driveway of memoires, mementos, and forgotten sheet music

 

And play all the notes they didn’t leave behind

 

A ballpoint pen alone in a maelstrom of lost words sentenced to life on the page

 

Death’s row below the capsized dreamboat of a riverbed bending in the nightmare of lead

 

Into pillows of trilling cerulean guillotines pillaging vermillion waterlilies

 

Clouds and eyebrows that shroud the gallows of aurora borealis

 

And write my songs spilling from treble cleft lips

 

And button up the downtrodden memories that trail from my open mouth like a tied tongue

 

A coattail I chase into circles roundabout as I am

 

Trying to catch my last breath

 

Chasing the trail of a sentence in the dirt

 

The intrinsic tail-end thread of a transcendent Armageddon’s glen

 

Infinite labyrinthine symphonies schism prisms’ imprisonment

 

Scavenger of Avalon’s intangible lanterns of an amber pomegranate Atlantic

 

Infentesimo blessings wrestling parhelion’s indelible melody

 

Kaleidoscopic prophets’ gospels of apocryphal mockingbirds

 

A coffin of octaves blossoming phosphorescent heavens

 

Blending remembering hallucinogenic empires of the lilac iris

 

Polycrystalline hieroglyphics of andromeda polymerization

 

Aquamarine evenings of evangelical ceiling where we hang our abandoned plans

 

Pandemonium’s chthonian chromosomes

 

Hydrochloric Aurora borealis torrents from the forest of organs’ metempsychosis

 

Post mortem oracles of euphoria’s seagull cathedral

 

Autonomous chronological omnipotent

 

Incandescent coalescence of maleficent effigies of hanging tree blasphemy

 

The Lovecraftian Baphomet

 

Wingspans of nook and cranny crooked anthems

 

The vanity within the sporadic madness Saturn’s rings of ravenous insanity

 

Calamities of human heartbeats on the deaf eardrums of God

 

Vivid imprisoning oblivion of tumbleweed newspaper-clippings firing blanks

 

Knocked up on heavens doorstep

 

A pigpen of words that have not yet been slaughtered

 

In the war we’ve bathed in lead

 

The page a smudge of screaming faces stuck between the lines

 

Is it right or wrong?

 

Diving off the deep end of a red wine drowned heart

 

Spilling my inkblot heart all over the page

 

Staining this make-believe world me

 

A lost balloon

 

In the rain

 

In the rain

 

In the rain

 

Engrained

 

Alone in the downpour of meteors

 

But sticks and stones won’t break my bones

 

So I scarecrow among the crowd of pointed pitchforks

 

I lead the pencil down into its own grave

 

I buried my dreams alive

 

I dig up the past and let it fester held the cards close to my chest

 

Put every waking moment to rest

 

Living a life of death

 

I walk through the loose screws and hangnails of my jagged graveyard of memories

 

I walk under a laughing moon

 

I walk through the corridor of locked doors I never will open

 

I dream under the sun of hurricanes of winded lungs

 

I rust under the rain of golden plains

 

I draw my words on the page of my elegy

 

Jumpstart my heartbreak dance falling from a balcony of Valkyries

 

And watch my fairytale-end spiral in a hair’s breath of winter

 

On the back of my inukshuk pushpin neck

 

And sing like a bird in a cage

 

The most beautiful blues of a blackened sky

 

My ribs holding the sunken treasure of mementos

 

But the world refuses to listen

 

Only to hear the word of God, I lend an ear

 

Deaf itself, I listen

 

And hear the drop of a pin

 

Like a tornado, or a typhon, or a monsoon

 

Stitching its split lip into a smile

 

Kissing my cheek with it’s beaten bruised body

 

Holding me close(r than death itself)

 

Like a penny rolling down the drain

 

Like a crushed rose

 

Like a dead God

 

Like a broken melody

 

The offkey lockdown of my embracing ribs

 

My sheet music skin

 

My scream of mute tongues

 

My memories of guitar strings

 

My soul another instrument in the grim reaper’s orchestra

 

My maestro of death a ventriloquist of threaded strings

 

My arteries and veins God’s violin

 

My sown together voice a smile thin

 

My velvet limbs and vile wings

 

A scarecrow’s ghost, a cello’s melody

 

My music box winding ravelled babbling a poem

 

I never did do wrong

 

But dangled from the bonds of each chord caught in my throat, and

 

The wind carries my voice until it reaches your ears

 

But you no longer hear reason

 

I suppose you and I

 

Never knew the sound of anything but madness

 

The clockwork animals of God

 

They no longer hear

 

They no longer feel

 

They no longer love

 

I don’t feel a thing

 

Just the tailwind of another song from an empty choirs’ overscrupulous hallucinogens

 

For an empty heaven

 

Wondering if I put my words in bullet point sentences

 

Will I bleed the brightest colours again?

 

Will I hear the hum of a billion crowded slums?

 

From this gray morgue heart

 

The melody

 

Screams without a mouth

 

I am a broken instrument trying to write a symphony

 

Listening to the clouds that ballad slack jaws of life in their skeleton car-framed wreckage

 

Guess that’s what it means to minuet with the deathless

 

 

 

 

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.