Stargazing

9 part poem. Get ready to dig your feet in for this one. I used to hate this poem. I see its beauty now. And I'm proud.

1

 

The climbing ivory islands unwinding a writhing spire

 

Of wyvern leviathans Gaia kaleidoscopes

 

Grinding through the fauna of chronological gondolas born symbiotic constellations

 

Smoothing out the rough edges of Armageddon

 

Crescendos remembering incendiary pendulums swinging to vermillion oblivion

 

Strangled clay dolls dilapidated stargazing fairies

 

Concerto stairways of paradise marionettes of alstroemerias lackadaisical

 

Swaying ukulele’s azaleas in the swelling jealous meadows of arpeggio

 

The wishing-well of pastels’ Beelzebub parhelions the newborn buds

 

Blooming hecatomb Cthulhu’s altocumulus Russian roulette within my blood

 

Within the Rubix cubes of this universe

 

The ichor of maestro’s kaleidoscope unbridled violet walking oxygen’s tightrope

 

The sky is full of malting cauldrons of saffron gondolas

 

Tobogganing pathological constellations

 

Reasonless tumbleweed cathedrals of fever dreams’ Elysium

 

Ecclesiastical paperback astronauts of Lovecraftian Cleopatras

 

Clapping vaccinated in their Rorschach cacophony pneumonia

 

Astral baptisms in the basking rapture

 

Chameleon cathedrals of primeval speleothems

 

Renaissance the auburn somersaulting altocumulus

 

The unicorns of Lucifer Morningstar

 

See the flip of a coin in the void of a cornea

 

The shadows cast by light

 

Thrown aside in the direction of its choosing

 

I was thrown aside as well

 

And if you look into my eyes, well

 

You might see

 

I am a man who is an empty shell in a magazine of kaleidoscopic words,

 

Bullet points,

 

Dancing in the shadow of God

 

In the hallway outside the door to heaven

 

And the light pours through and bleeds sanity through a fresh wound in my psyche

 

And I am still

 

Laughing on the inside

 

A fallen star

 

A blind eye that sees all

 

2

 

From these expurgatorius gloryhole corridors

 

Stargazing plagiary of the waves of séance discombobulated saints of abomination

 

Pay homage to polymers of disembodied dominos homogenized in prose

 

The Apocrypha of philosophical sophomore doppelgangers

 

Spindling incendiary librarians of varicose marigolds unfolding ordinary primordial

 

And the harmonious throne of pandemonium in the ozone poems of our chromosome’s

 

Periwinkle crinkling wrinkled incubus inklings on a page

 

Inkblots in a sarcophagus of broken bottles

 

As the ceiling of Helios cerulean Prometheus

 

Speleothems reeling ethereal elysian again

 

Beyond the fauna of mitochondrial lasagna drooling hooligans

 

Unravelling metabolisms as the bibles recital violins of barbed wire kaleidoscopes

 

Matador w****s of the bombardments of a pursed embouchure

 

The amethyst of Saturn patterns of ceramic pianos

 

Ensemble the halogens bottomlessness hallways of a colony

 

Mangled mammoths of megalomanic bangled zigzagging stanzas rambling Babylon

 

Gargantuan amaranthine standing stones cloaked in pheromones chthonian

 

The podium of pandemonium is my homely chromosomes’ ambrosia

 

The iris of glaucoma frozen in the sodium of my opal chromosomes

 

I am the crow in the trees

 

The goldenrod disease

 

Screeching through my unhinged jaw, the song of silence

 

(Just) As nothingness suffocates

 

I am the blackness within the white

 

I am the dark within the light

 

Off colour when you brush with death

 

The life of a blank canvas

 

Bleeding through pituitary bioluminescent in the crepuscular destiny

 

Wallflowers howling amalgamating pastures of Rorschach plastic refractory

 

In Babel’s tower an hourglass unwrapping its fingers (from God’s neck)

 

Praying to creation’s oasis of Uzumaki phosphorous doppelgangers

 

The canvas shambling babbling pianos of pandering rambling dandelions

 

The maze of hallways in the phantasmagorical accordions of origami corridors

 

Roaming Ouroboro rigour mortis

 

3

 

I am the raven in the graveyard

 

Canoeing through (fondus of) altocumulus

 

Through illusions infusing the lucid dreams’ terpsichorean helix seagulls of Elysium

 

  Fuselage ludicrous illusions fuchsia

 

Stargazing ukuleles loosened corkscrews of the fuchsia zoos

 

The trampled champagne a watered-down lantern of amphitheatres

 

Margaritas of a terpsichorean Elysium’s leukemia

 

Infusing the lucid dreams dancing

 

An out-branching amp of my hippocampus tied up in the roots in its chords

 

Slipknot astronauts dreaming machineguns

 

Phosphorescent anorexic destinies stretching through God’s quadruplexes

 

Umbilical basilicas of acrylic Gilgamesh

 

Quadriplegic rejects of the four horsemen’s seasons

 

Dying in the breeze and

 

Quadrilaterals babbling mathematical pathogens astronautical brothels of gospels

 

Rorschach’s of stained-glass patchwork burying hatchets in blasphemous atmospheres

 

Apostles, nameless fathers of arthrodesis

 

Hyperbolic follicles drawing volumes

 

Across the blank sheet of my (featureless) face

 

Plumerias of heresy’s merry-go-round

 

Painted aegis’s of frail maelstroms’ mitosis varicose osteoporosis

 

Mitochondrial songbirds obelisks commandeering cherubim

 

Of labyrinthine idiosyncrasies infinity’s of serendipitous equilibrium

 

Trailblazing stargazers across the skyscraper spill of the milky way

 

Clovers supernova like balaclavas unravelling in the night sky

 

I can’t help but pull the (wool, the) covers of this illuminated universe over my eyes

 

Drowning in pools

 

Puddles where even crippled birds sing

 

(Pointed eight balls into the back of my eye socket)

 

Blanketing cold hearts that chatter through clattering clavicles like multilateral catacombs

 

Electroconvulsive palpitating constellations within my sandpaper skin

 

Andromeda's within shattered labyrinths

 

Flipping coins within the foliage of another coiling voyage

 

In tempestuous breathlessness stargazing maelstroms

 

Lovecraftian astronauts that tied their heartstrings into violins

 

Their own vorpal opal kaleidoscopic bifocals of vocalism

 

In the meadow’s of Armageddon’s arpeggios

 

Fragrant canvases of pomegranate hippocampus

 

Tattered rapids of chrysanthemum amaranthine

 

Vials of a kaleidoscope

 

A child in the formaldehyde

 

Smiling wide for the firing line

 

Somewhere between the Nihil’s divide

 

Born and cast to die

 

A shadow of a man

 

Born from a man of shadow

 

Double of nothing

 

No dice

 

We are coming together as we fall apart

 

The world is a missing puzzle piece

 

A crown for the nameless king

 

A jigsaw

 

4

 

Picnicking with crippled wings

 

In hollow Neapolitan tsunamis of riving lopsided horizons of polymerization

 

Golems of andromeda watercolour smothered bungalows

 

In polyphonic cauldrons of discombobulated mitochondrial omniform

 

Origami omnificent Kilimanjaro’s scarfs of choreography swallowing hodgepodge collages

 

Picnicking picturesque polycrystalline crippled wings Icarus

 

Flippant with his elixirs all pixyish

 

Telecommunicating jubilation

 

Gambling star-spangled aneurisms

 

Animals of the marigold prairie land monasteries abandoned and shambling

 

Melodic with dichotomy

 

Goldenrod

 

Violin

 

Marigold

 

Malevolent tempestuous parentheses parthenogenesis poinsettias

 

Prairielands

 

Waltzing exalting faltered altocumulus abyss

 

Crescents of a hollow chest and

 

Crepuscular Nephilim infinitesimal effigies of a rejected Bethlehem incandescent vessels

 

The cloudy amalgamated imprisoned eucalyptus

 

Of prisms pavilions of sterling silver Cerulean speleothems

 

Auditory aurora borealis bowing soundlessly

 

To the flurry of a dervish serpentine with the divines across the lines

 

Bordering primordials oracles of the phantasmagorical

 

As the transmogrified borderline kaleidoscopes,

 

Divides colliding from the siren sun drying in your dilated iris

 

A dilapidated Frankenstein of rhinestone xylophones of collarbones maelstroms

 

Collateral atmospheric spherical speleothems

 

Boulevards of puppeteers

 

Rhapsodies of the cacophonous kaleidoscopic loathing

 

Matriarchs to palpitating somersaulting temples to existentialism

 

Blooming Judas’ from the fumes of phillumenist altocumulus

 

Philosophical doppelgängers

 

Drawing comets on the foundation of constellations

 

Bedazzled medallions amulets of annuls’ of sand

 

Penniless cemeteries

 

Contemporary emissaries living centuries in penitentiaries

 

With an afro of daffodils tangled dandelions and the pupils of Jupitar

 

Resonant heavenless neogenesis

 

The creasing midriff of Elysium’s wifebeater

 

Pages waging wars primordial soldiers sages of Arcanum

 

Tidal waves in the graveyard martyrdoms’ arteries

 

Discharging wanderers of Tartarus

 

Star-spangled entangled wrangling amaranthine chrysanthemum

 

Alphabetical metronomes bypassing refracting cardiovascular

 

The off-beat tempo of the heart

 

My skin a taunt drum

 

My body hollow

 

A blemishing crevice, a crawlspace under the stairway to heaven

 

I can hear our bones creaking a xylophone

 

As you walk over us

 

Floorboards in the house of God

 

The staccato of an armada’s embouchure

 

Harmony in every star-kissed artery

 

Somewhere between the attic and the wine cellar

 

My eyes adjust to the dark

 

In the twilight of two worlds

 

One of you

 

One of me

 

Two different men

 

Neither walking the tightrope

 

Or driven over the edge

 

Sound

 

In the madness of noise

 

The static

 

Hearing, (feeling) the crunch of each second

 

Under my (bare) foot

 

5

 

In the thunderous technicolour umbrage

 

Are sun smothering trumpeter tumbleweed homunculi

 

Pathological tobogganing constellations

 

Alphabetical metronomes pharos of concerto

 

Choirs’ chorus mingling in the monolithic prickling oblivion

 

Meandering patterns of ceramic banners apparatus of broken glass stratospheres

 

Saffron geographical scaffolding of baffling rhapsody of batholiths’ cacophony

 

Ricocheting riffraff rapture captive to sacrilege

 

Abominable dominos monsoons of altocumulus gloomy

 

Glisten imprisoned in the distance

 

Rivers of figures calligraphy wiggling fingers defibrillator

 

Walking in the shadows

 

Straying from the hand of God

 

6

 

In the crossroads of phosphorus nocturne

 

Glossy Polaroid poltergeists riding bicycles

 

Cycling through the cytoplasmic avenues of stratospheres

 

Battered mirrors of shattered fear

 

Peer through the looking glass pasteurized bastardized

 

In the sunrise of their own demise

 

As the sideways skyline kaleidoscopes into another dead end;

 

A heavenly (metallurgy of) Armageddon mentioned by hallucinogenic reverends

 

Remnants of December’s ending

 

Cleverly we sought surrender

 

Severed sheep who bought the cleansing

 

Walking down the top of Everest

 

Crosswalks where remnants peddling Armageddon as street vendors

 

Crucify the twilight

 

And blind themselves with neon lights

 

Drunk as the shadows spindle longer than the quiet skyscrapers

 

Scarfs of darkness that keep the damp system of streets warm

 

Wearing the blackest of nights

 

Under the stuttering bumblebee yellow of a cello’s streetlamp amphitheatre

 

The amplifier of Nihilism’s crying kaleidoscope

 

As God sits back and watches as the little men continue

 

Spindling cities that splinter rivers into infinity

 

Building on the memory

 

Sunrays of a golden age

 

The tomb of tomorrow

 

Fading lackadaisical castaways

 

Of these once pastures of dilapidation

 

(Desert’s of leatherback edifice)

 

Golden embroidered pages of the maelstroms (Salem’s playground)

 

Murmuring journals hurricane

 

Rinsing symphonies of stygian infinity windows of spindling millenniums

 

Shackled (acolytes) to a disembowelled shadow flowering aurora borealis

 

In a cardboard box

 

I’m still walking down the sidewalk of an apocalypse

 

Dreaming (of/in) the jail of a halo

 

Slipping under the sewers of a drowning sun

 

A wanning wax figure of the moon

 

A shivering chrysalis of Icarus melting into velvet

 

Pulling and pushing at the packs of Rorschach’s (molasses and velociraptors)

 

Until the crumpled pages soaked (till brittle) in ink

 

(Unravel/Unfold) into a black butterfly

 

Through the intercourse of metamorphosis

 

The illusion of music corrosive oceans bloated custodians of mitosis

 

Like a plastic Rorschach’s placid passage, way through blasphemy

 

Iridescent Nephilim of vesicular reckoning

 

Raining black forest torrents Ouroboros from the (fruitful pewter) pupil of spring

 

Singing obsidian millennia

 

On these gospel pockmarked wings

 

Puppets ruptured by their strings

 

Entangled star-spanged hearts

 

An instrumental’s decrescendo

 

(Menuettos of pendulums)

 

(Swimming in photosynthesis)

 

(Kaleidoscopic oscillation in a holocaust of doppelgängers sashay blossoming)

 

(Tied into the knotted trees of their knuckles)

 

(Praying with this olive branch)

 

(A clarinet coiled between the snakes of their fingers)

 

(That once wished to reach towards the sky)

 

In the percussion of unstructured touch of nothingness

 

On the (spindling rhythm of the) wind

 

Until nothing’s left

 

Within

 

(Because)

 

(I came to bring down a star)

 

(And leave you all)

 

(In the dark)

 

(Alone with the crowd)

 

(The lost people that found their way home)

 

(Alone within this crowd of lost minds)

 

(Floating in the oceans of time)

 

(Fresh off the spiralling vines)

 

(Of an unwinding kaleidoscope)

 

To the rhythm of my heart

 

Off the mixtape of my tongue

 

Tangled in the noise of our (own) voice

 

7

 

Making oysters of tyrannosaurus

 

The sound of music

 

Is altocumulus kissing my skin

 

Tumbleweed bumblebee sunsets

 

As we stumble over submarines

 

Dreaming Elysian leukemia

 

Freedom’s paraplegic legions

 

As we ride the tide of a final sunrise dying bright

 

We look to the same sky

 

(As stars collide in the bonfire of a drive-by)

 

Swaying in the malaise of heavy rain

 

A bloodstained milky way;

 

The road to heaven

 

But

 

I’m still walking

 

8

 

Until the seed of my battered body

 

Plants itself on the curb of this concrete garden

 

Of modern Martyrs

 

So I can leave my roots behind

 

And branch out of the mouth of this unloving world

 

Like the sound of madness

 

Ringing in the ears of God

 

Mangled by the highest of volumes

 

Mandalas hallowed peacock feathers of Neverland

 

Blossoming in the nauseous operas toppling

 

Offspring of the lost monsters

 

Carrying the cross of their sarcophagus

 

Until their legs give out

 

Like a lost tongue

 

Settling in the maze of a hungry mouth

 

9

 

Goëtia of celestial pestilence flocking vibrato to nocturnal opera

 

Speckling beckoning resurrections’ iridescent etches of crescents

 

Hallucinogenic crescendos

 

Devils of the rebellion’s parhelion mandalas

 

Of Autumn’s mitochondrial andromedas forming origami bombshells

 

Of eldritch Valkyries hanging from balconies of Machiavellian evangelicals

 

Concubine intertwining cyan the scythe of a spiralling kaleidoscope

 

Applauding discombobulated belladonna sonatas

 

Umbilical willows of guillotine greased priscillas

 

Spilling villas enkindling barricades of incendiary plumerias

 

Chariots of marionettes playing clarinets

 

Hanging from caverns attics of lanterns candescence

 

Exodus of lexicon through melodic tenebrous macabre

 

In sabbatical labyrinths the amber hammocks of amethysts

 

By the heartstrings of arsenics’ harpsichord primordials

 

Shaped and formed oracles of an ornery orbs of a cornea’s orchestra

 

Mourning the adamantine phantom of sun

 

To a dark god phantasmagorical

 

The lighthouse a beacon

 

To a world in the deep end

 

The monsters are sleeping

 

The harvest moon reaping

 

The harnessed tomb speaking

 

The road is still steeper

 

I mourn for the reaper

 

The morning is dull

 

Between the leaves of a seasonless forest that lulls

 

Repeating the needles of a treasonous chorus applaud

 

Elysian reading Cathedrals before us gouache

 

Blades of leaves in the trees that cut through the clouds

 

Free as the breeze as they water the ground

 

The nature that bleeds for the thorns of a crown

 

The acres of leaves torrent torn in their vows

 

The makers of me hand the order bring round

 

The morning reborn again unendingly proud

 

The auburn of gardens floundering cartwheeling arteries of crowds

 

The armor of parchment is written and gouged

 

From the mouth of the river

 

And the page of the plough

 

My mouth is a garden’s concerto

 

Los Muertos aloud

 

Heaven speleothems resembling assemblage revelling cemeteries roused

 

As we end the beginnings will circle around

 

Rinsing symphonies of stygian Olympian infinity

 

Windows of spindling lily capillary billiards

 

Of amaryllis blizzards chiselled grizzlies

 

Ventriloquism’s schism of millenniums

 

Twisting polycrystalline in biblical tranquility

 

Blessing lexicon the maleficent plethora of etchings by the ambidextrous hands of time

 

Candlelight rhymes adamantine xylophones pyre higher than a wildfire

 

Praying to everglades and outspoken oaks

 

Hazel sable eyed brides to the science of horizons choirs of violins

 

Daoism imprisoned prisms of eucalyptus

 

Growing from the open palm

 

The kaleidoscope (roping croaking from the throat) of dawn

 

The mourning sun in a motherless sky

 

Tending to the plot for a cemetery of ghost writers

Author's Note

Previous description: I had some trouble with this one, but I always seem to have trouble writing until the piece is written, and then I say I had a hard time. I think it's better to say this is what came out of my nothing.



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 a killer passage:
"And if you look into my eyes, well
You might see
I am a man who is an empty shell in
a magazine of kaleidoscopic words
Dancing in the shadow of God
In the hallway outside the door to heaven
And the light pours through and bleeds
sanity through a fresh wound in my psyche
And I am still
Laughing on the inside
A fallen star"

What I was thinking as I read this: how did certain astronomers ever come up with the various constellations as we know & accept them? Why not someone like yourself who might've drawn the point-to-point line circling the milky way & beyond, rather than sticking to a spatially-cozy batch of stars? How arbitrary are those damn constellations & how sheep-like we are to accept them as a definitive (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I think the idea of something that is unknowable is intriguing. Maybe they were drawn to that and wanted answers? And so, they found the closest thing they could find in the universe, named it, and tried to grow accustomed to it. Maybe that's why people like you and I are so interested in the parts that weren't mentioned.

[Nomo]

Bello,
I started reading some of your works, and so far I like how you write.
I had to look up several words within this poem! Great use of language, but overall you captured what you wanted to write.
I enjoyed this, please continue writing I can't wait to read what's next!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Always awesome to hear that from a fellow writer, really glad you enjoy my work, I will definitely check yours out when my semester at college is over.

[mattavelli]

Hello, Potato! :)
I'll have to come back to finish this. I read section one, in total confusion, haha, until the coin flip, and the magazine. I glanced at section two and decided to take a break.
You used some of my favorite words, and the images are great, but all together its a bit too much for me today.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Alright, no problem. Glad you checked it out anyway!