So you've found the bad poetry......

Are you brave enough to read on???

Well here you are. You must be a masochist to actually read this crap. Either that or you're a sadist who just wants to read it and laugh hysterically at me. Or maybe you're both....Have fun, you big mean person you...And when you get done torturing yourself here, go read my stories. Be forewarned, poem 14 contains pornographic imagery. Reader discretion is advised.

1
Sometimes I believe you delight in my torment,
Like the little boy who laughs as he sprinkles salt on an innocent slug.
You watch my pain and anguish and all the while I hear your demented laughter.
You know full well of the emotions raging within my broken heart
And of the excruciatingly unceasing thoughts that gnaw at my brain.
You know you have caused me this pain and yet it fails to effect you.
How dare you the gall to define this wretched display of affection
“love”.
You are utterly incapable of feeling or understanding what you have been doing to me for so long.
You make me so angry sometimes,
And the concilliatory process is so mentally draining that
I don’t know how much longer I will care to tolerate this
Or how much longer I can even pretend to bear it.
How can you still claim to be devoted to me,
Or that this proves such?
But somehow, perhaps in my own deluded world,
I still believe that you care.
That in your heart of hardened hearts lies the passion we once knew.
It is not always evident but I refuse to accept that you,
Whom I once loved so dearly,
Have become such a disgusting human being.
I know that it exists, the love you had for me.....
It is just hiding in the shadow of the vile poison of the Morton Girl.

2
The searing pain rushes through my body and I laugh.
I laugh and smile.
Red life gushes from my wound
and slowly slithers toward my wrist
where I should have made the cut in the first place.
Like warm bath water I cleanse myself with the glory and solace of my own blood.
Its dark red stain on my pillow a constant reminder of
my mortality.
3
Receive, all you of dark and noble hearts,
The gifts which I have given.
Gather in the blossoms of pain and hatred.
Reap the fallen angels I have struck from the firmament above.
harvest the ripe stalks of immortality that I have nurtured from seedlings.
Rob me of the emotions you are not fit to feel or capable of retaining.
Seize vicious hold of my spirit, deadened to the mortal world of life and felicity.
My soul does not inhabit this earth.
My heart does not reside among the sentient.
It abides in its own surreal universe,
as the Cimmerians dwelt in their land of Stygian darkness.
Take what you will, pillagers and plunderers,
Though a Pyrrhic victory will it be.
For I shall tear from you your valiant heart and blessed essence.
I shall drain you of your life-giving blood and wrench from you your
pitiful, worthless passions.
I shall leave you in a bottomless pool of your own self,
Alone, to discover your true predilections.
You shall be overwhelmed, inundated, by yourself.
And you shall realise, o wretched one, that you are no different
than me.
4
Happiness is so fleeting,
Yet misery seems to be infinite.
Ecstasy is an ephemeral emotion,
Lasting only until it is replaced
by the terrible grief that manages to survive a lifetime.
A brief smile is but a weakness,
A temporary lapse of the perpetual frown
that shields us from ourselves.
A twinkle in a laughing eye is most often washed away
By tears laced with sorrow.
You can cling to hope in vain
Only to be drowned by melancholy and sadness.
There is not option but to surrender,
To give in and be taken under
By the black current of despair.
Destined to lead a pathetic existence
In a world of blinding darkness.
5
I dance with joy, or as much joy as I am capable of feeling.
I am shrouded in the deepest black robe
and I slither beneath the moonlight like the serpent offering a bite of the apple.
I cannot be resisted.
You are drawn to me, you cannot help but come near.
You stare at my undulating hips and your mouth drops
as you consider their potential.
From behind my veil of shadows I see your eyes bulge
as you notice my swelling chest,
my breasts shimmering in the moonlight,
heaving with passion.
The soft, bare flesh of my stomach excites you
and you dare attempt to discover what is hidden beneath the robes,
in the shadows behind the fans and scarves.
I softly moan your name,
though I do not know it.
You come closer.
I take your outstretched hand in mine and I let you feel
the gentle curves of my body.
You yearn to see, straining your eyes in the darkness.
I pull you into my shadows, where nothing is real.
Not you.
Not even me.
6
I stand before you and before the waiting world
across the river.
I am one with the sky,
invisible against the backdrop of the starless night.
No twinkling balls of fire dare grace a night like this,
deign to bear witness to such a spectacle.
I stand upon the precipice of cement
built by men who dare encroach upon Mother Earth.
I stare into the inky depths of the river before me.
I imagine the secrets it holds, the hidden world it harbours.
There is life down there, and it is not right that we cannot share
in its miracles.
I intend to.
I turn to you, my outstretched arms begging.
You take my hand and climb up beside me.
You are frightened, I can hear it in your breath.
I raise my hands to the Goddess
She hears my call.
We dive fearlessly off of the ledge,
knowing we are never to return.
We are surrounded by the darkest black never know to any man
but us.
There is a flicker of white light that pulls at us,
tugs at our souls.
Once it has taken hold there is no escape.
We belong to it now.
Only to it and to each other.
We spiral ever downward into the dark pit of eternity.
We are alive at last.
7
dirty laundry, filthy floor.
band party posters on the door.
lonely girl in the chair
somber girl with bright red hair.
and she speaks with quivering voice
she asks the question, she has no choice.
she seeks the answer so hard to find
she hears the words that are not kind.
she shuts her ears, lies on her bed.
shuts the voices out of her head.
she cries softly with gentle tears.
she is frightened, they know her fears.
she goes to sleep, she needs the rest.
she locks her feelings inside her chest.
8
I tripped over something today.
A bag of somethings perhaps.
I believe they were my marbles.
I have been looking for them for quite some time.
They rolled out from underneath the couch.
They were almost as dusty as they were when I had them.
I don’t know how long they’d been there.
They seem to have made some good friends with a few dust bunnies.
My marbles wouldn’t come back if the bunnies couldn’t come too.
So I let them in.
I have little rabbit footprints inside my head now.
The bunnies like to play with my marbles.
I think that’s why I get headaches.
9
I will concede that I’m unstable,
I’ll swear that I’m not well.
I live best as I am able
until I rot in hell.
My brain does not function as it should,
my grey matter is tarnished black.
If I could help myself I would
and get my marbles back.
I tell you that it’s not your fault,
You are not to blame.
I’ll take it with a grain of salt,
and I alone the shame.
By now you think I’m crazy,
you think my brain has fried.
My memory is hazy,
but, I tell you, they lied.
They told you that I was insane,
they swore I’d flipped my lid.
I was truly ill, I could not feign.
This disease could not be hid.
Who cares that I’m not quite right
or not all there in the head.
It doesn’t matter in the dark of night
and certainly not when I’m dead.
10
We are One. They are Many.
They are against Us.
We do not fear Them.
We do not hide from Them.
They want Us to die.
They are not Our friends.
They smile at Us and We laugh together.
But We hate Them just as They hate Us.
We can kill Them.
We so not feel remorse.
We can kill them because We are Them.
11
I have nothing left to say.
Nothing more to utter or express.
Like so many uninterred corpses deliquescing upon the Earth
my thoughts rot and dissolve within my brain.
Yet I have not been given the opportunity to utilize their treasures.
At least the human carrion has served its purpose and
outlived it’s usefulness.
It can offer no more.
My thoughts were mere infants, barely able to survive on their own
when they quickly tumbled down the endless gutter of my mind
to their unfortunate demise.
Their ends came too soon.
And so shall mine....
12
the voices speak
but have no ears
with which to hear
me screaming.
13
she opened her mind, now her heart is his. she does not know why, she does not question how. she lets him embrace her soul and revels in the cold bliss of ignorance. she sleeps. the fierce winds rip through her skull, and she is wrenched from the comfort of his warmth as reality engulfs her, seeps through her ears and nose and drenches her brain. she starts to leave, starts to return to where she has been told that she belongs. she packs her thoughts and ties her feelings into a neat, tight bundle, prepares never to go back to where she is. perfectly dysfunctional now, she dares take one last look, to slightly turn her head and remember him as he is. her eyes meet his, sparkling with the sadness of clear blue tears that flow from his heart. powerless, frightened, unwilling, she collapses into his open mind, surrounds herself with his breath. and sleeps.
**Warning! Warning! The following poem may offend some readers. You have been warned!**
14
I want to talk to you about sex.
Do you think you can handle it?
Are you man enough?
You want sex so badly, don’t you.
Think you’re gonna die without it.
News flash, buddy, it’s essential for the survival of the species,
not you.
You lie alone in your bed, so very pathetic,
magazines under the mattress (how creative),
a skin flick in your VCR,
your little fantasies traipsing through your head.
You stare at these women that society had decided are perfect,
so plastic that the tops of their heads are Tupperware lids
protecting their precious skulls full of nothing.
You imagine running your fingers through their thick, (dyed) blonde hair.
You want to kiss her, feel her tongue agains hers,
her sweet honeyed saliva in your mouth.
You can picture yourself helping her out of her clothes,
gently sliding them down her body,exposing skin
already glistening with perspiration.
Or perhaps you take her t-shirt in your teeth,
tearing it violently and ripping the seams.
Yeah, that’s it.
You take the soft flesh of her firm (implants) breasts in your hand,
her nipples harden as you gently kiss them.
You squeeze, just a little bit.
She gasps delightedly
(or is that just the air leaking out).
You admire her thighs, lick them, nibble them even.
You don’t think you can contain yourself any longer.
Your mouth wanders to the wetness between her legs,
it’s all for you (this time).
Your fingers explore her, inside and out.
Your tongue follows, licking her where you know she likes it most.
(You don’t know a damned thing.)
You suck her gently, she must love that.
You massage her gently, maybe a little roughly,
slow, then fast. Slow, then fast....
You’re such a tease.
You suck a little bit more.
Maybe there’s some whipped cream involved.
Some whips and chains??
Who’s wearing the handsuffs this time?
Now it’s her turn to suck, isn’t it?
(Men love that, you know.)
All you can see is the top of her head between your knees
(it doesn’t matter what she looks like now, does it).
She sucks and licks and strokes.
She knows what you like and you know you like it too
as you feel her hot lips wrapped around you.
Now you’re ready.
You take her, feeling yourself inside her warmth.
You rock back and forth,
you thrust and push,
she scratches and claws.
You bleed.
So does she.
You push against each other as she pulls you
deeper inside of her.
You are there, you have reached your peak.
You send your gooey fluids rushing through her insides.
You have finished and she disappears.
No morning after, no phone calls.
That’s the way it’s all gonna happen, right?
No way buddy.
Not in a million years.
Hell, you’d be lucky if you could get a hooker,
you pathetic perv.
Hooooome
© 1998, 1999 Insult me here

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