Poems, Continued

Bah, here's another poem:

Twilight Machinery

She was a dynamo,
A cog in the twilight machinery.
Deafening silence follows.
Dawn comes, with Hope, and Light.
But it is so damn far away.
Reach out for it, smell it, taste it, feel it.
All senses are dead and blazing brilliantly.
A quiet heartbreak, not felt.
Gentle, like a mother-caress.

Poems of a Hopeless Mind

Dammit I was going to post this long and detailed account of what I did over the past three weeks, then I realized that no one but lame people would read that. So I'll just post a poem or two. Enjoy.

Listen

I hear the vibrations
The echoing screams of justice
Tearing at my ears.

I hear the thunder
The screeching sound of a tire
As it comes to a stop, revolted.

Can you not listen to yourself?
It's all the same
Mindless babble, the history of lovers.
Came at me with a razor blade, defected.

Merciless she-wolf, naked she comes.
Ripping through flesh and bone with steel teeth.
I'll keep stealing as I kept coming.

She soars, unblinking.
By your side, all time.
Why must I be so disappointed?

Eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.
Unblinking eyes look back at me, blackest.
God it is lonely and cold deep in this ground.



Sammael

Socrates' hemlock vines
Winding 'round columns of dying souls
A thousand men hang from nooses.

Under the knife
Zion speaks
And the people fall to the ground
Smashing their skulls on the pavement.

The baby of the neon, distended womb
Folds in on itself
Disappearing, disbelieving.

The poets tremble
Underneath the gaze
Of the All-Seeing Eye.

The horizon blazed afire
Great Helios falling beneath Earth Mother's gaze
dying with a smile on his lips.

Sammael!
Bewitcher!
Deceiver!
Poisoner!

Useless blood drips into the abyss far below
Feeding the Anu Machine.

Rejoice in the haze.
Blackened children
Run screaming into the chaos.

-Zalarus

of contact lenses and existentialism

This ticks me off.

----- rant on capitalism + distasteful profanity -------

the forms

cast life

unbreakable

lifetime guaranteed

bent

cracked with graffiti

of peaceful protest

never break

nor give, but

create

fetus, purple with lack of air

gasping, forced into vice grips

of common practice

bones crack but not break

blood, oils the machine

then wrapped, pulled tight

left to heal

on cold streets

visited by vagabonds and bums

drinking liquor

by light of fires, burning old shoes

-San

Introcution

And so another joins this growing merry band. Name's San. I'm the philosopher sailor. The world confuses me. Manic insanity, you see? So... Instead of arson, I write.
Onwards and upwards,
-San

THIS IS A BLOG

MY blog, in fact. I am now an internet person, I guess. Whether or not this a good thing, I do not know. I am very concerned about this. Perhaps I should consult a doctor.

Well, first off, I should introduce myself. I suppose I am a poet-writer-photographer-guy, who just lives as life would have it. I feel that this is a good thing. Please contact me if you have an issue with this. You readers should know, I started this blog without knowing exactly what I'm going to do with it. Expect a little bit of everything.

Well, I think that sums it all up. Happy reading, folks!

-Zalarus