And we can all breathe a sigh of relief.
And now we can return to the regular nerd-scribbling.
And we can all breathe a sigh of relief.
And now we can return to the regular nerd-scribbling.
here I stand, once more
on this rock at the edge of the sea
alone and laughing
arm crooked ’round an outcropping
drunk on power
singing my song, tossing words idly into the surf
finding glory in my destruction
another night, another time
a different wind will blow
and i find my heart
sere and hollow
but tonight
I am supported
held aloft by
this bubbling froth/
sea-foam madness
that makes me sing
and summon leviathans
to drink of my reckless tears
come, Poseidon
carouse with your acolyte
My heart burns with light,
so careful am I
to shroud my birthright
This song in my eye
it burns while I sing
ripping thru my throat
like a newborn fiend.
An alien dynamo held in my chest
with each lightning stroke it
destroys some small sliver
but illuminates the remainder;
I pay the blood price
again and again,
let me be an angel of light
consumed by this hunger,
the price
of my wings.
Let me shine unto the very end.
Humming in my joints like
graaaaaaa—-wzzzzzz
spokes of metal
jutting
around my neck
growing hot with
impatience
prongs of disgust
vibrate
with
demonic malcontent.
Scurry scurry— brain fleas pop
on abandoned transistors
choke on rancid cotton
break things–break things
run across the dunes
empty me out, smash the
glass for good
measure
then shatter anything else that can contain.
step free, a black-iron skeleton
clutching at velvet curtains
–they evaporate on contact–
alive and electric
rise
and
vibrate
thru the walls of
this
tepid
earth.
Unveiling all this poetry from my younger days, has actually been sort of interesting.
A lot of the same images turn up in my current work – the red sword, the ocean, the angst. The drippy, drippy angst.
It’s also revealing to see how much of these themes and concepts have coalesced into one character, Izus Torrossian. A lot of these poems could have been written about him, or BY him — even though I wrote these years before that character ever existed.
So, Lodestar Crew, take note. Izus is some sort of manifestation of my adolescent id. Be afraid — be very afraid.
I am the villain.
Empty me out
and
pour in the darkness.
I will bear the red sword.
I will smash the fragile blossoms.
My foul legion stands at attention.
Bring me your virgins to despoil,
sing me your broken songs.
Let the slate trumpet sound.
I am the villain.
Leaned forward in my bed
tears rolling
thru the cups of my hands
and
collecting at my elbow
as they
slide
down my arm.
The swords hang behind me.
They are sharp and keen
and
devoid
of purpose
when
was my hand
strong enough
to carry them?
I am not that man,
I am
thinner
grayer
rain pouring from my eyes
and pooling
on my lap.
This blanket is warm
I will
crawl
beneath it
and dream
about the swords
falling on me.

Whew — it is getting serious up in here. I still kind of like the “Dracula” poem, I remember thinking of it as the seed of a musical – the attitude and musical stylings of Les Miserables, with lots and lots of lacy cravats and ridiculous black cloaks.
bring me
girls
bring me
flesh
bring me
human blood
coursing thru my veins
i howl like the wind
like a beaten dog, left out of doors
scratching at the gate post
and gnawing with pain
i am the nightmare
singing dark lullabies
while infants scream
their melodies of
thunder and rain
bring me
hearts
bring me
lives
bring me
all your broken yesterdays
i will cast them into the storm
and make them new again
beware the monster
beware the creature
love the monster
love the creature
i am the forgotten son
of all your cloudy imaginings
the secret
of your hungry things
that gibber and howl
and crush and devour
the better side
of you
Forward and back
and back
to the far east
where my
strength was the least
running and gunning
till the break of dawn
knockin’ down the queen
with a leftover pawn
i sang of the sorrow
that my father let me borrow
earned in the genes
like blue aquamarine
eyes that light up
fists that fight up
thru the
pounds and pounds
of pressure
i was born with
trying to
shake the hounds
that were the last gift
of
a cruel character
born with a narrator
the neccessity of jamming
sorry for all these words that i’m spamming
but what was the gist
stop let me list
to the beat of a heart
ticking like a clock
try to break it
find out it’s rock
keep smashing their fingers
the pain always lingers
surprised and betrayed
like a nine day masquerade
i’m sorry i’m sorry
my rhythms go far you
will be tipped at the door
have a safe trip home, poor
chance that brought you
to this strange encounter
try not to flounder
come shoot out the starlight.