Can you hate me any more than you already do?
I, born of love and purpose
I, raised with empathy and understanding, raised in love
I, comfortable in my own flesh-and-bone body
Can you hate me any more than you already do?
I take my life for granted, you say. Do I?
Or do I distract you from your own life—
Which is to say, nowhere near, tragic.
For a friend-
Get your shit together.
Autumn, darling,
dances near
waiting for the wind
to bring her sweet October’s kiss
and early winters chill.
Death is the wind
that races
through the trees.
Cunning and random
to where it will
go.
The unexpected guest;
Unwelcome—
Unwanted.
Yet without warning
or reason,
it blows.
Sometimes a howl,
a whistle.
Or sometimes it flies
on silent wings.
Ever moving—
Ever changing—
Always there
and will remain.
Death is the wind.
On cracked pavement do my boots echo
From the wake of my footfalls
As I tread on.
There are no ears to hear my steps—
No one to acknowledge my presence here.
Only dust;
Wind and dust to greet me
And remind me that I’m ‘lone;
Remind me why I roam.
Willow watches in melancholy silence,
Peering through her thick, green veil—
Waiting for no one to find her;
For no one to sit at her feet
And kiss her soft bark.
Cold is loud and heavy;
The assailant of scrawny fingers;
Weak appendages protruding outwards
As the lonesome branches of trees do.
They have no defense from the cold—
And what a toll is taken!
Trembling and pained,
Numbing into a dull ache,
As the soft skin of the knuckles
Cracks and burns.
Poor fingers—poor hands—
That suffer through winter’s trials,
Anxious for the warm rains of April.
Lucid blue skies saturate the iris of your brilliant eyes.
They wash over all you see—the dry mountains and endless highway—
They wash over me.
Stare for awhile, look at me,
Let me look at you too.
Don’t shroud those liquid orbs behind the veil of ebony lashes—
I want to look at you.
Let your rosy lips fall slack and rest
While those eyes play voice to the heart
And convey your mind’s intricate thoughts.
Don’t hide what you think and what you feel,
But surrender to me
All that you fear,
All of the worries and pains your delicate soul must bear.
Look at me now and feel my dense gaze
Envelop you, worship you—
You, that are beautiful,
Pacific,
Serene.
You, that I love.
A love poem to the Golden Youth from the perspective of the Mighty Wez - Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior
Night falls,
Enthralls me,
Tenders my brain so tired.
Long gone—
Time told by the sun,
And rational thought expires.
Leave me mourn the morn,
For this—
The heavy night is come.
Heavy metal
Steel enclosure
Bolted shut
For Decomposure
Rots and waits
In iron tomb
Wait for those
Who want their doom
Decomposure
Sees your face
Decomposure
Wants a taste
Screaming men
Reduced to dust
Harvest only
For their guts
Flesh and bone
Will salivate
Decomposure
Dominates
Decomposure
Sees your face
Decomposure
Wants a taste
Waits in cryptic catacomb
Waits for you and you alone
Wants to pull you underneath
Wants you inbetween his teeth
Time in waning
You’re locked in
Trapped now with
The spawn of sin
Pulled in closer
To his thighs
Decomposure
Eats you ‘live
Decomposure
Sees your face
Decomposure
Wants a taste
Decomposure
Needs to kill
Decomposure
Wants his meal
A “monster” lyric poem. Influenced by Judas Priest.
