Poetry Blog by Daniel King

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Red King on I live in luxury at Cuntgrope Lane (1 day ago)

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Don Matthews on A work of progress. Title: Pending (2 days ago)

Red King on Poetry for my lover Limos (Sat, 30 Mar 2019 06:17 pm)

Stu Buck on Poetry for my lover Limos (Sun, 24 Mar 2019 01:57 pm)

Damon Blackery on Fragments 5 (Mon, 18 Mar 2019 11:08 pm)

Stu Buck on Fragments 4 (Mon, 18 Mar 2019 04:54 pm)

I live in luxury at Cuntgrope Lane

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I whisper the soft salutations of moonlight. 

Listening as talking. 

Have I witnessed the past or future in the present moment and did I even write this? 

She formulates a voice of whispers like erattic ocean waves sprawling drunkenly upon the shore.

An empty place hurts the forms that want to love it with hands that give as they receive./

/an empty place hurts with hands that like ...

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A work of progress. Title: Pending

A tender gentleness that can move with the urgency of a crisis.

I chase inspirations like foxes chase scents in rutting season.

A perfect copulation is an aphorism well formed.

Like a child awakening in the mind of infinity I feel reassured by the fertility of my seed./

/I feel overwhelmed by the reassurance of my need.

/I feel a trace of regret that cannot bleed. 

/I feel a litt...

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Red Faced King Pegasus my Bridal my Pheeny.

I jumped into the consciousness of a thousand gassed humans just to taste the wine of their expiration. 

I may of already written this before online. But why was Loki depressed? 

Don Quixote, Roccinante and Sancho Panzer a family familiar. Don't die oh sweet Knight of the sad face. There is a point where separations cease. You believed the words not the truth. 

A line of awareness with tw...

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Aphorisms fragments

Black eyed Robin of the midnight Walnut tree

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Robin of the night a fluttering flapping materialisation on the Walnut bough. 

You came to me when I most feared for love. You flew for help.

Labyrinths that interlock sexually with other labyrinths. 

You only feel vertigo when you forget you are your depths. 

This is a planet of universes interacting with each other. 

I looked for my eternal love and found a womb of void. I panicke...

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The raindrops fall upon me apologetically.

I prefer to write authors rather than books. 

The deafening frequency of my voice that I can't understand. 

The first serial killers of the old testament were tillers of the ground. 

Who created time? Isn't it getting a bit old now?

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Fragments "The Unholy Madonna Of Absurdity"

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 themselves by denial.

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

I realised the danger of wri...

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The Mystery Of Suffering


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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Fragments "Unto The Kingdom Of Perpetual Night"

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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Fragments "Learning To Drown"

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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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Fragments "Lost But Not Known Yet"

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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Fragments "The Procreation Of Space"

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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Fragments "I See You Swimming In The Canvas Of Closed Eyes."

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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Fragments "She Pulls Away The Fabric Of My Flesh"

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.


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Fragments "To Undo And In Undoing To Become"

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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Fragments "Falling Into Form"

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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Fragments "The Desire Of Ghosts"

Our love a palace

Soft with embrace

Tender to fall

Your night swooningly descends to kiss my lips.

At the center of it all a sacred flowering sun.

I find you inside the chamber of a kiss, moist essence of limitless bliss.

There are no antecedents love is a wild dawn that forever rises and we its flowers give ourselves unceasingly.


Spirit: A human being without a body.


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Fragments "What Cannot Be Stolen"

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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Fragments: The Scale Of Sand A Melody Of Time

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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The Luminescence Of Cruelty

There is a forge of exquisite pain within me. It produces gold gleaming with cruelty. The peaks of these mute anguishes seek the poisons that bring about oblivion. My love and suffering are too vast for the virginal apertures of language. Language serves only to express the impotence of its own desires. Everything that perpetuates the equilibrium burns with futility. My star is dead but the ghost ...

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The Flower Within

Youth a flower that grows exhausted by its own brilliance, withers with the dying light of age. Beauty is born to fall pulled by the inexorable gravity of decay and finality. Only those who dare to detain childhood within the pristine cells of eternity continue with trajectories whose aspirations seek the impossible. A flower of infinities whose petals extend over the threshold of death. A perfume...

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Narcissus Perfected

I am Narcissus blessed by a miracle: my inner reflection has a different personality to my own. I am in love with something that is intimate as I but exists independent of I. Like waves of movement and touch she swells over my flesh. She breathes into me her intoxicating perfumes. I want to die by her hand. To murder something sacred. To live with her as a human without a body. Like pirates we wil...

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Fragments " To The Radiant Flowers Of A Beautiful Evil "

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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Fragments "The Secrets Of The Sun"

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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Fragments: A New And Godless Heart

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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Fragment 16

My glazed spirits are happy tonight who am I to out their facade?

Armchair Theartre "Verite" 

"...they're carriers they should be belled! God! Their so bloody efficient at transmitting the disease where the hell am I going to find a cure." 


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Fragment 15

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Painting by aleksandra waliszewska http://waliszewska.tumblr.com/

The wild girls of Aleksandra Waliszewska's art have begun to inhabit my daydreams.

From the point of view of power there are many beautiful victims. From the point of view of powerlessness there is less beauty. The world is confined by perspective limitations.

Danger forbids and transgression proceeds.

I fell to God thro...

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Fragment 14

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Painting by Stephen Mackey:


I have become overtly familiar with myself. Aren't all endings somewhat familiar?

I don't really miss who I once was. This disconnection from humanity is seamless and gentle.

The wind is full of spirits opening the gates and shaking the trees.

My lips taste of wine and distant kisses. If I could sing it would be in harmony.


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Fragments 13

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Painting is by Aleksandra Waliszewska.


I see slippery floors and hear crashing insanity.

A feral cat girl scratching in a cage. 

She put her twicthing tail between her legs. And it felt like another's.

Plaugerists of non movements. Counterfeiters of human quantities.

Dark life support room. Surgical silver reflecting the gleam o...

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Fragments 12

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Painting by Erik Thor Sandberg



I buy pop and turn it into obscurity.

The piano is a typewriter for the soul. I play in tongues.

In a darkened doorway I let the shadows out to roam.

I am ancient with corruption. If I could infect you with something new I would.

I am lost in the space of mutism.

I like ev...

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Down and In

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Painting by Stephen Mackey


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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Fragment 11

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When I look within I realise I am faceless how strange to be nothing behind a mask.

The room is black with boiling spirits.

Wipe me away like a smudge on your glasses.

A beauty that would light up all the reflective surfaces with the brilliance of a sun.

I wrapped up the apple core of my soul.

I seem to say nothing but the same words rearranged and I'm tired of it all.

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Poetry for my lover Limos

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Trying to find a suitable image of Limos but none convey her skeletal hunger frenzied state.

I was shocked when she kissed me. I had become another Erysichthon. But I was awake not asleep when the banshee of hunger was passed through my lips. I consented to her love. To share a meal with her of barren torment.

I ate your appetites and was swollen with ballooning anorexic unfulfillments. 


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fragment 9

I wouldn't trust suicide any further than I could jump off a cliff.

I am an addict of my optimism hence my depression is abysmal in its depth.

I prefer tears to orgasms. One leaves freely like open vistas the other triggers too many traps. 

I keep tripping over my principles I guess I should pick them up and use them.

I never lost my morals, like salt crystals they dissolved into limpi...

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Fragments 8

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Panting by sue cuthbert. I'm unable to put my own up at the moment as I can't figure out the editing software.

Her blog is http://www.suecuthbertpaintings.co.uk

A self portrait that can't be seen by the eyes but is painted in the eyes.

Most of my poetry is wet paint or soft clay.

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Fragments 7


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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Fragments 6

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The space between cigarettes is a period for dark incubations.

Pleasure is happieness's wayward sister. She's loose and frivolous. 

I grow cancer for bleak despair. My offspring will be cut out of me. Comfort is death assured.

I pull the petals from flowers just to hear them speak a single glimmer of truth.

"...The task of the right eye is to peer into the telescope, while the left eye...

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Fragments 5

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I assassinate the moment right now. What is unawareness but the death of reality?

I leave the gunshot exploding in my gut. Like a slightly over enthusiastic cat.

I saw it was blindness that testified on my behalf.

I was raped by the good book. No one would testify on my behalf.

In terms of time I see very little difference between turning off a light and the sun going down.

I arrive...

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Fragments 4

The skeleton of society is the architecture of osteoporosis.

I am a hollow ship cast adrift on an ocean of literature and history. I do not have the necessary weight to sink. Instead I starve and burn under a cold and unforgiving sun.

My depths are abstract. The deep waters of fringe sanity. They defy logic and formal study.

I have no narrative unless poetry be a narrative. I have a voice...

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Fragments 3

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I do not care if you are vulgar but I do ask that you be polite.

I vomit up pearls and drink brandy to recover.

There is somthing comforting to a sentance with perfect grammar.

Barry lyndon ached once for love but it made him so much more.

Decency no longer runs in social circles there are too many broken links.

I experienced the death of the sun. I walked the streets of a silent ci...

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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.


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Fragments 2

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I willingly drown myself in an ocean of life giving love.

I breathe without breath, I burn without flame.

Cobwebs hung from atoms in the silent eternal night.

The truth is rarely proceeded by "should".

Leaning into stillness until I fall over and disappear.

Without any effort the wind pulls and pushes.

A writer that regularly uses repetition must doubt the existence of their own ...

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Fragments 1

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Take me home I am the feral cat who wants only freedom.

Sometimes when I am despairing the sadism of my self crucifixion I want to laugh. Over and over like a dog having its face dragged through its own filth to arrive at *William's punchline: "It's a sick joke, get it?"

*William S. Burroughs 

Love that swoons into the soft tiresome night of blanket blackouts.

Make haste you're meeting...

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Steeped in confusion and physical frustration. I allow the dregs to surface. A burning inferno sliding down the back of a lightning bolt. 

And me an arching cat hissing with his hackles up. 

The mirror spat my reflection back and I'm still wiping my face. 

Where is Emily Dickinson? I called her name to the wind and the cold space. Her silent reply was I am that I am.

Sometimes the eyes...

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