Archive for dark poem

Tourist

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on August 27, 2010 by dc

Outside your burning house
Where I tried to douse
All the flames with tears
I carried all my fears
In a holy bucket,
Took it like I’d sucked up
All my fleshy pride,
Tried my best to hide
All my nightmare sides,
All the lightening tides,
Smells of pesticides,
Dreams of suicide,
Such a shame
That I walked it like I talked it,
Should have just gone
And bought it like a tourist.

Inside a waiting cell,
Brain a burning hell,
Smells of petrol
As I tell on those
Who should have
Stayed inside the shadows,
Should have flown like sparrows,
In the blackened sky,
Dying all the time,
Life is colour blind
If you read the signs,
Telling you your spine
Is the holy shrine,
For all the people praying,
“Save me ‘cause I’m awkward”,
Talked it, walked it,
Then I bought it like a tourist.

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The Peripheries

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 13, 2010 by dc

Patio handshakes,
Glass stares and parasite smiles,
The peripheries.

You’re vile like hot tar,
You’re municipal grim ghosts
Raping the almost,

Your words carry scents,
Practised lies and old pie charts,
We hate you and pray.

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Library Cabaret Brigade

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 1, 2010 by dc

They tap into the hope
Of the biscuit dunking
Library cabaret brigade,

They make them think that they’re saved,
All tombola tin rattles
And welcome home parties

For bodies in bags,
And the prayers that they kneaded
Into cakes are now bleeding

Through the baking tin corners
That have long since served purpose,
Like broken toy soldiers

Alone in a loft,
Snapped up in boxes
Estranged from their tears.

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A Darkened Birth of Fright

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2009 by dc

A sky of sheeted ravens,
A void of deathly quiet,
Tonight the sights seem grave,

The endless bend of sycamores
Down lanes that smell of spunk,
Past the houses of children
Chicken scratched and toothless,

This is the conclusion,
A full stop that stinks of whisky,
A darkened birth of fright,

We were jokers till this moment,
The dead lie to our right.

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City Gin Song

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2009 by dc

It’s a race to hide my misery
As the rattled foxes scream
And the soot faced children scatter
To homes more dead than alive,

The city gin song of an old bag
Stings like nettles down the alley,
Half eaten sandwiches turn black
And slugs slide over bins.

“If you plot out your future
Like you’re laying down gauntlets,
You’ll forever face let downs
And bruised heart mirages.”

Loud breaths catch echoes,
They are mine and I’m crumbling like coastlines,
I am caught by the pavestones and pebbles,
I fall down and my head splits the future.

Poetry.net

Nature Has Chilled My Bones

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 20, 2009 by dc

The morning sun
Is a wet, shaved peach,
I watch buzzards
And choke like a stranger.

Horses buck in the garlic rain,
Rabid foxes sprint into fence-posts,

I grab a moment from the runny sky,

I peel back my thoughts
And get lost in the skin.

Weasels dance hypnotic and lithe,
Weaving tight turns
And head-bending their prey,

Decaying hedgehogs
Float down streams,
Trembling pheasants
Cough up seed.

The clouds expand
And then tighten
Like a huge concertina,

I step forward and sink,
I taste the dew on my lips
And the soil on my tongue;

Yesterday was Tuesday,
Today is Thursday,

Nature has chilled my bones.

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Minotaur

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 23, 2009 by dc

My tongue became an acidic whip
Of orchestrated frustration,

My eyes became centres of blood lust,
Disappointment and spite,

My walk the bullish strut of the angry,
A minotaur crashing through mazes.

A graduate of devotions turned sour,
A stranger in a land of spent words,

Wrestling hope like a farmer with barbed wire,
Coiled spikes puncturing pity,

In the scheme of things I am just a dirt cloud,
A yellow grass scar,
All the tree leaves ignored,

No one heads out to the garden these days,
I am blunt and the World’s become bored.

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