FORMLESS, TO BE EVEYTHING AND NOTHING !!!!!!

My heart is burning and aching. The anger within me burning consuming my soul. Taking ALLLL ALLLL my body down with it. The Madness in my soul, Tormenting tormenting tormenting !!! I am Irrational and Insane. The daemon eating, killing me inside. I refuse to fall, REFUSE To subject myself. My muse, the drunk driver taking me away my mind soul body ALL into the pits. Hellish fury. Volcanic, eruption TO BECOME SYLVIA PLATH. TO BECOME TO BECOME DEMENTED, burry me under the covers of the coffin. Let them ship me away, to olympus. Not to Hades, where I am. Love is Hellish. Love is demented. Love is no more than the feeling in my head that causes the Enemy to take over. Love love love .... the gates of HELL !!!! 

Empty 

Narcotic desires 

The voices in my head are dizzy 

with the sounds of echoes.

Culminating into fleshless beasts 

zombies with no desire 

only to 

kill kill kill.

Hard rock 

the granite rock I cannot etch 

the blood boil over 

over into maddening desire 

I cannot work 

cannot, weather 

words all create 

Red sky in the night 

Pour Rain 

rain to wash away Bring me away with you 

into the Sewers where I belong 

In the depths of hell. 

Mulsh My brain full of nonsense 

the pain and suffering the tongues of hell 

burn me from inside.

Creatures birth from my soul

Daemons 

Pregnant woman feeding them 

devour them into a complex desire

breast feeding the shards of glass.

I break from convention 

Refuse to accept and run into ruin 

the place of new beginning 

to enter, bacon eggs ham 

The early morning nutrition 

is not required 

rather them the judges stand 

firm. The jury mocks 

and rings out: 

Guilty Guilty 

murderous fiend. 

Love is the cause, it is the cause it is the cause ! 

November the time of desire 

kill me now and take me away into the wintery furnace 

the wicked wicked pain that I will change to Passion 

the suicide note left behind.

Hanging hanging in mid air 

refusing to return 

the balloons in my hair

pulling me up. Like gas 

leaking into the neighbours floor 

melt their house 

tear it down 

and I no more. pain and sorrow Hate 

is all i can muster 

Wrapped under the red cloth 

they bong out my name

and ring the church bells 

offerings laid at my feet.

Like a god 

unable to manipulate desires 

irrational thought 

mess of mind 

NO MORE OF I.

serpents round my legs coil 

suffocate my soul 

formed in red 

painted stake in the demons heart. 

give it up 

there is no chance of more any more 

lacking lacking in the capacity 

loathe me 

I will cry a thousand tears 

till my eyes are worn out and 

my face melted 

like the wax dripping off. 

Silence plays the noise of sulfurous

vapors eating into my flesh 

breathing it all in 

and the narcotic smell 

heroin to me 

the drug that keeps me 

alive in the cool dew of morning. The ash of the eruption mask my misshapen mess

forming a mould.

And you come 

yes the witch, cold and yet so steady 

poking and prodding this ash, this grotesque monster.

eating it, licking it 

the coal on your tongue 

muddy and coarse 

coating the hurt 

repress the gate. cover all like pompeii 

Floods covet the land and sucks it in 

the waters wash over 

tides reside and blood makes the man rise 

the liquid veins filled with salt. 

heavy hands,cannot type the misunderstood words 

salvage the jew, the black, the gypsy

and it comes

it runs 

After, avoiding and beaming 

in the mad 

mad leafy morn. and i stand 

on the stool. 

praying my last breath 

will be swift and cool 

the pain turned to passion 

the cutting takes me only one last waft of air.

and i spin 

spin in the dizzy room 

blank walls 

blood all about, the surgical house 

wars and tors and hill and mountain 

peaks in my blood 

and I am floating 

floating 

my eyes dried out

my tongue dry, the palate a black mess 

and the stool 

rests on the floor, the bed the bed the covers pull them over the child.

love hear me

i no longer speak, whisper 

mesh and wires entangled 

a bear entrapped 

only desire 

the rebirth of deathly hearings 

my guilty name 

a sentence forever made. Halt and let me fly into 

the fury 

the pain and looping torture 

take take take my desire take loaf 

eat me from within 

this writhering soul 

curled up 

a cacoon hear me 

Lover the red 

scarlet scared kiss. soft and tender biting and poisonous 

and i flounder and 

it reaches my 

middle and kills kills kills 

no antidote 

take flakes of snow 

the tender soul 

flow away... river styx 

Confessional or not ? hmmmm

to be or not to be ... that is the question.

Confessional ? Anyway I have been receiving my new inspiration from the French world. However Sylvia Plath has greater and greater influence on my own life. I see more and more similarities nearly everyday... which sort of creeps me out but also give me great pleasure. hmmm duality - a clear Plath trait. Along with the face that she did not want to reside in a single form but in many formless and substance less state - stasis. So I must go and read other books, Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell and all the others. Currently i have given up on Ulysses for now. I have proceeded on to read Freud's interpretation of dreams. It is fantastic. So Reader, I pray you will not judge me but just enjoy my poetry for what it is and not compare it against other poems. so here goes.

Oh and one last thing : A poet's occupation is not to form words which rhyme, or sound beautiful. It is all about capturing the emotion at that moment. Poets do not depend on the words, we depend on the speed of capturing that emotion into stanzas. 

Ok now here goes :

Stupid man who is an idealist 

disillusioned by his own words.

Questions being asked, 

incapacity to reply. 

To stare is to cause trouble 

trouble is no matter to him 

Abused and stricken by the silence and 

static actions.

Disturbed both mind and heart 

inability to function. Paint me 

floating above, magpie, refusing to be grounded.

Logic, just a thorn in the flesh.

Test, tomorrow, 

Procrastinate and refuse to perform, the circus of balancing acts.

maladuous self induced 

anesthetic, ease. Narcotics freeze my senses.   

Love is a passionate thing 

only given to a few.

a chimera, changing and turning turning into 

a serpent. The demon turned inside out. 

the car must still move on 

the engine left along the road. 

the barren dessert 

with one blooming flower, naked in the sand. Teasing. 

Heat burns and cleanses me 

the operation on my skin, my sin.

sears the numbers I.O.I.I.T.4. 

the mirage. 

it cuts, stings, the chloroform  

wearing off. 

The gods standing around this 

baby, born. Screaming and shrieking. 

The Leaves are no subject to this 

only us man. 

The groveling creation of the lord.

Purity, a Rubbish love. 

Fine line between love and 

obsession. Dogma Dogma. 

let no man draw in the sand, nothing concrete

formless shapeless all contained, in a box. 

There the lovers 

the two sitting and swaying. Nothing 

Action speaks louder than words 

bending and their voices, a mix. echo echo in the deep

mindless. hands clasp 

the fan spinning over them dizzy.

Breathless, pain 

and I breathe again. 

Poetry, A torture 

a deception. 

corrupt practices that kill my miracle. 

Attached to the shadow, 

the nigger I control 

insoluble, feasting on me. 

Solemn, as the pope serves the communion wine 

spilt everywhere. Clumsy

dreams fill my head

the floating, fleeting moments of amnesia 

empty empty 

darkness. 

I cannot reign sovereign 

the machines overtake me. 

I am run over, I rise but am compressed 

the glass ceiling above me. 

look but cannot touch 

hear her voice 

as the gas begins to fill 

and starts to kill kill 

kill. 

_____________________________________________________________

Notre Dame de Paris ... searching the skies !

The coloured stained glass... the gothic architecture and the mysterie the mighty mysterie of Le Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris. And it has currently been my current inspiration of writing and the beauty of the architecture is manifique ! 

so here is a clip from Notre Dame de Paris le Musical. 

And now carrying on. I have been thinking too much and nuff said. Here is a poem. 

Clouds 

Linking Heaven and Earth 

the bubbles rise up ward 

like the clouds of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. 

Man made clouds 

the pursuit of reaching God. 

Climb the ladder 

and find the nothingness at the end. 

The cirrus clouds 

spirits floating above from heaven 

they see hell 

the hell we suffer below. A

Party is being held. 

My mind encapsulates it all 

fixed in abstraction 

I destroy all Creation. 

Damn Gaia ! Damn Demeter, Damn it all. 

Fire and Brimstone I call 

upon this sodom and gomorra! 

God has abdicated. 

 

And I take control. Destroy it all. Rebuild it from the beginning again !

In my beginning, 

In my anger, I made separate the heavens earth 

call the sun the luna, throwing into empty space the violent stars 

black seas conjured up 

sky, the mist covering this rock rises from the demon grass. 

lecherous blossoms plague the land, as beasts and monsters roam the land.

And now, now I take the clay and mould 

pressing and on the wheel 

I make 

man. A formidable opponent. Let him 

Fail, the woman cutting into his rib, 

split his mind. 

The demon in the angel

white

gruel is what i feed on 

the sparrows eat better than I. 

Recreate Recreate ! 

The priest with his mindless chants, in the lost tongue 

and I, the pope, see all, 

instructor of my minions.

But who comes pass the gate

who make the prayer

that haunting voice 

the candles flicker at her entrance.  

The great warrior 

waits waits outside the mighty gate 

waiting patient and 

I, a prisoner in my heaven. 

And she brings my paradise 

to hell. 

________________________________________________________

Right that was one rant... carrying on, my second poem on moi lolita ( yes it is very seldom that i write 2 poems in one day) 

Ghost

Missing from consciousness

I have not seen 

not followed, the gypsy that has bewitched my soul. 

Her dance 

is a tease to me 

poise and petit, the manner of her 

from the tip of her nose to her feet. 

takes my breath away. 

The ballet of her walk, all balanced. 

the stained glass of her eyes 

reflects beauty, the montage, painting the mona lisa. 

Guarded by gargoyles 

the towers with the saints standing by 

to judge the man 

to condemn him, let him claim "sanctuary !" 

the child like scrawl 

covers the paper 

a beauty, a childish nature

moi lolita. 

sitting there 

enticing me, I would have made a step if i were brave 

but no no, though my weathered exterior 

I am a timid dove. 

But it is she 

witch, putting a spell that causes my heart to 

beat, put back my life in me 

sew onto the linen of my heart. 

Threading 

piercing and weaving in her 

tender touch 

but firm the tension. binds it all. 

And I am trapped in the cage of desire 

the lost creature who is in 

love. With the great lady warrior.    

the other poem i will post later... enjoy 

glug glug glug.... and it all down the drain

Woot! I am done for the week, it is over, I don't have to stand around emotionless serving customers at the bookshop !!! Ok ok on to more serious stuff... I need a new fountain pen, the old one is growing on me and I have a unquenchable desire for a new fountain to scribble all over with. Hopefully a parker vaccumatic, really saving up to get that bugger. Oh... and I have this current fascination with gypsies. Why ? I really don't know, maybe it is their lifestyle, free and nomadic. Also their superstitions and beliefs along with their music and of course who can forget, freedom ... hmm i think i already mentioned that. Anyway here is a poem which i Wrote a day ago and forgot all about it. here goes. 

Winter! Turn back time 

Autumn,Summer

Spring, Love in the air 

cool nights, breeze in her hair 

fluous language, no words can tell 

the volumes, the scriptures all permeate the unenlightened. 

And I stand 

the train is late, half past four.

Sickened, hundreds waiting, baggage 

clutter the station.

And she stands, resting her head against the 

mighty pillars holding up the architecture 

curves and lights, play, ignorance is bliss

the train arrives 

Fills the station with white fog 

Blocking vision 

suffocating senses, olympus ? only a state of Nirvana 

a God induced madness

relieving the past, i board the train.

Carrying my dead feet, 

rooted to the platform 

the moving animal 

the noise is unbearable. 

I am haunted by her figure. 

she stands there 

the shadows engulf her 

dark figure in the pillar. Ghostly, stained glass windows. 

Repeated announcements waft on the air

muffles, muffins being ordered from the boulangerie

I sit in the cabin, claustrophobic

and call out to her, still by the pillar. 

She stands outside the window 

the window, a frame of the mona lisa. 

Birth of venus by Michaelangelo

Le Grand Louvre.   

Her breath misty, in the winter cold 

steam emits 

misting up the window, I no longer see her, the beauty of Paris 

gone. 

Cathedrale De Notre Dame, her eyes look down in sympathy. 

Her Silhouette, remains entranced in my mind 

her figure, the Madonna 

stately, standing, justice and proud, 

Arc de Tromphie.

A horn blows through 

ricochetting through the station 

her body livens up 

the sleeping beauty, arising. Poison waning. 

Dawning, moving upon the train station 

pillars move, the smoke emits 

chug through, picking speed. 

blur. 

I run through 

abandoning, luggage all behind 

a passport and my wallet. 

the final moment, jump! 

My knees grazing on the hard floor. 

the blood line, on the marble flooring. A bohemian art. 

Back on the platform, still there ? 

ma cherie ? 

No more, the pillar abandoned, 

the Eiffel tower, her figure, structured and composed. 

The station abandoned. 

Only clocks and numbers, the Montmarte ! Oh Mon Dieu 

Band of thieves, darkness ensues, the station plunged into the Revolution. 

Red, the sign of the Communists, they have come. Dieu ! receves mon ame! 

The newspapers litter the station 

tales of fiction. a mess, tossed up by the wind. 

A note left, a scarlet letter, 

written in the language of the lovers. 

J'ai lassie la station,  

ne me suis pas plus !       

I have left the station 

follow me no more. 

The next train comes next morning 

3 'o' clock, Tres bien 

I rest, on the bench. Open to all. 

the magpie lands near. 

cold, cold. 

and faintly i can hear her sounds. 

Et le cloches sonnent 

sonnent a ma vie. sonnent dans la station 

echo d'echo. 

________________________________________________