Poetry Blogs (2017, fragments)

My mind feels like someone is taking their hand out of a glove.

Spider enities tell venomous stories before disappearing.

I have created a penitentiary for penitence that mocks itself.

The universe is a vast copulation.

Adults are lost children denied temselves by denial.

We partake in the destruction of beauty's peak because it is so very beautiful.

I realised the danger of writ...

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Howl with lacerations and bleed the cheap absurdity of living. A moment of life like the sweetness of decay just before it turns putrid. 

I have just one thing to say. 

Leaving just means I'll always be behind you.

Recklessly I wreck myself. I live the thrill of destroying the body and mind. Spite as ecstasy a kind of drunken abandon.

My wine has femented with a destruction so lou...

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Now the news presenters are like frightened animals we keep as pets.

I've slipped so far below your standards I can't even see you anymore.

She came as a murderer to me killing with pleasure my human innocence.

You can spit in my face but your spitting into the sky.

God is giving birth to deformed angels. The reign of the fallen is close at hand.

The imagina...

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Tranquility in your presents

doves pecking as our kiss is tending

lips lock our mind in a spell, as the doves sing their song, letters spelling in the air.

clouds draw me close for a better look

fractals in the nooks, lump to lump, baby rainbows extend their hand and shake with glee

telling my lover she is the best mother to be

She see's the beauty in my beastial nature, cal...

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There is a maturity earned in living an intolerable life. There is also a wild beauty in giving up too.

Writing: a distance that feels intimate.

Some sink their ship's slowly savouring the taste of their subsidment. Others dare to rage into extinguishment.

Raymond Carver "I write to impose my view upon the world."

The endurance of living staggers me in my drunken gait.

I can no long...

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In reaching out for kindness I hold onto life's tenuous grip. I feel the despair of the autumn leaf that cannot fall. 

The appearance of beauty is a superficiality whose well of creation is endless as it is inspirational.

She does not speak english if she does it is purely incidental for she speaks the language of the unconscious.

Sometimes we lose the ones we love when we choose to get l...

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The minutiae of violence subtly transmitted in the space of a thought arising. We convey infinities when our eyes touchlessly touch.

At times I hear the discourse of two angels endlessly debating the right and wrong of my every action.

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They don't despise me. That is love.

If I revolt, consider the ugliness of your revulsion. Don't confuse your inspiration with its offspring.

I strike true...past the heart of your defenses...but you must distance yourself with walls that don't exist.

I speak to wake the eroticism that sleeps in every heart.

We are not hand-in-hand but hand-inside-hand.

I held her so close we both d...

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What isn't glimpses itself through a refraction of words.

Words that only see themselves preach blindness.

I touch to know touch. Gentler than the whisper of a breeze, softer than the skin of water.

Nightmares like weeds are virulent they grow everywhere.

Suicide: a moment of anguish before the calm.

One more poem then I'll love you unseen. One more...the excuse of living.

Drunke...

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Pleasure a form of happiness that survives in the most extreme regions of human experience.

Sometimes sadness was a candle flame held beneath the heart. At some point all feelings become assimilated by the pain until it can no longer hurt.

The universe isn't evil just profoundly innocent. It is we who are too complex.

True beauty does not deny ugliness.

I can't help...

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Life a game of solitaire that imagined there were others.

I smoke and drink now but the difference between now and the past is that I no longer view it as a bad habit but  instead I give myself entirely to it with love.

Love is a complexity few are willing to encompass, understand or accept.

Sometimes I think of my betrayal of William S Burroughs and I hope my writing softe...

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A library of empty books is every child. To put your mark upon virgin pages is either to embellish or stain.

Curiosity gave birth to the curious cat. Every questioner is killed by the answer.

Nonsense contains the inner wisdom of absurdity.

Elegance pleases beauty and love is our tutor.

Philosophers use words to create new skies. Nietzsche the unfurling of a storm. Wittgenstein a sky w...

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I felt I had betrayed her when I said I loved poetry. I hurt with it and desired to forget. She is all I remember.

Acceptance is love like the shade that dapples the tulip.

The voice unseen mirrors me.

I was happy perhaps it never ends.

Wounds like tides pulling currents. 

Charm a soft yellow glow. Her words the clouds of endless possibility.

We invent a dance that can't be dance...

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We are in love with the sacred angels of youth. You may look upon the same images as us but you will never lose your breath to their beauty as we do. We are isolated by our singular perception.

We breathe the air of damp despair within the silent chamber of our cracked and broken heart.

Deviancy is the blasphemous prayer we sing silently night and day in our hearts. It is the disti...

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An eye contact so forceful it leaves bruises.

If you want to create a nation of sincere people give them war and concentration camps.

Sleep the motion of stillness a wave of silence.

Sleep: In the absence of all stimuli we forget we exist.

Sappho does not mourn burned papyrus but deaf ears. For she is still singing and no one hears her.

They feed the malnourished with delicious dece...

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Lost in my desire to hold thin air tight to me your love commits me to murder my heart. I am swollen with desire for our never ending union. Lost without ever knowing a home. Your sadness is a grace that's tender and touchless. I feel you within me without boundaries or limits. Gentle and dark, obscene and depraved I thirst to give you my blood as much as you thirst to consume it.

I write for t...

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Painting by Stephen Mackey

http://www.stephenmackey.com/menu.htm

Perhaps physical immortality will become the disease of our future? The suicides and murders will remain and their groans will become the enduring echoes of our days and nights.

I have no outlet for a despair that's too wide for the dialation of poetry or speech.

A thousand sad disfigured eyes blink up at me from the bubb...

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https://youtu.be/bxUI4DeoWGg

An orchestra of babysitters.

The children grew up and I never named them. I forget you see.

Something came inside me and disappeared like the memory of skin on skin.

I write the endurance of life's marathon. Weary but compelled.

I travelled down the oesophagus of a wire and landed in the belly of a lightbulb. Blew myself out to escape the tyranny of ligh...

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Angel hair and open spilling guts hideous with intestinal snakes slithering over the floor.

I have become an illusion of arrival.

To write from stillness is to seeth still deeper than the storm.

I screamed a red skinless face. Proffered my head to the world for a beheading. Shaped by the compression of extreme guilt.

To be born in outline only. I held a bawling pastry cutter.

A...

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