Best Anathema Poems


Anathema Sit

the air of
your skin is Paradise 
fingers all over
my face

your words 
push the blood 
out of my heart 

towards you

Anathema Woman

Her independence deferred
          History wipe, silenced in denial 
          Component of family unit secure
          Current form stands as emblem
          Entirety kindly quiet unheard
  

          Cleansed of horror occured
          Corpses buried won't stand trial
          Heinous parade she could endure 
          Hosts pretense without problem
          Outline dent, identity blurred


          Safe matriarch role preferred
          Sedating sandarac sent via smile
          Dizzying aphrodisiac calamine cure
          Disarming smooth cabochon gem
          Exhibits traits 1950's referred

    
          Dissolved scrag, unburdened
          Drama curtains pull closing titles
          Screenplay prosperity props are pure
          Scripted mid century holds them
          Outcast character murdered



          
           Eleventh of New Year Era

Anathema In '52

Tattoos were anathema in ‘52
on any man who got one 
after an all-night drunk

or to impress a girlfriend.
But not a word was spoken to 
a man who made it home 

tattooed after serving 
with his company in Korea.
Any man who made it back 

was welcomed whether 
he had Popeye on his bicep 
or his girlfriend's name

even if the girlfriend married 
someone she had met while he 
was digging foxholes in Korea.


Donal Mahoney


Premium Member Anathema

Ambivalence and anxiety
Motivate or moot?
Benefit or blockage?
Intensify internal indecision
Trajectory or tranquility?
Inquire into impassivity
Observe oasis
Noble nonchalance noteworthy

Mord Wraiths

Elan's word?
Zulu's sword?
Heartsichordiums-convulsive-verb
"Anabantium", O wraith of mord.

So is it, it is for Hilerides-Dales, 
which green-discourse, 
Southeast of Wales 
or some other perch 
of liaisoned Angeles-porch ? 
Is one-way with a steep of glades newly born. 
No sooner have we besmirched.
Self.
Nostra-damned-us, Astrogalus, 
Nostragus.
Nemean Lion- first-of course;
eat us- at these quatrains, 
like a double edged verse 
candlelight-consuming in a dance of 
strobelight nurse. 

Neon-Cry that Mercury-Tear. 
Filter-through, Mushroom Signage 
of Modern glares.

As is-with directions, 
one way streets to the Dens of thieves.
Dropping, dripping, burning eaves.
Robbing hoods and so also 
there was some relation at worst-held 
at bae or backwoods, back alley deed.
Err thee connection-theta warded-word 
to say in it's assumed position, 
bemusing Gaias':wraith de morgue.

Wraith de Morgana, r ape Avalons' Mist.
Undo the handmaiden with a new Word? 
Unkiss? Disrobe? Amiss?

The Nostracina  in turn be as it may.
Apologetics-Hilaridesics, 
seems originally as being male; alone, 
an Ictinopharctic poet 
(nere-accompliced drunkenly-bare.)  Was
named as for it a "Father-Door".
Now abyssmal opening, "Abaddon or Apollyon" 
for who we to christen in sinful-adornment 
of the riding of the unrepentant-whore. 
To make her implore(doors? to whom?), 
Ihttiphodar-Apath-Anamethat-Anathema, 
that fore-in the family to grow-in-swore. 

There have come much
tumidity and variety, little understanding 
nor humility of season or station.
Of which that may be confusing for some. 
Critique the weak, in terms of being. "Able to know". 
Is just in it or have you
see to it's evening-glow?
Civilization? No.

Then this, also which I'll have to explain at night. 
Among other that I have also, 
left traces from the rite,
(their language of love, 
of also of a possibly anamallan), 
is then saying, (Elan!), more is the pain.
Till that which comes, comes as that Latter Rain.
No?
All other which I cannot know 
for thee for it is hermetically sealed,
 Bibliopsysicly sown.

Das Papa Anathema Furor He Hiss Toward Patriarchal Hierarchy

Das papa anathema & furor he hiss toward patriarchal hierarchy

Courtesy mine eldest sister Amelie
Beth (thirteen plus months my senior),
whose maternal love equals heart as emoji,
she nsync with other kith and kin
painstakingly fleshed out family tree,
formerly severely uprooted, me

knowledge of ancestry
truncated, denuded..., bereft
any extended offshoots you see,
thus without doubt earned a priori
gene nee us award for peopling bee
silly decorative swallowtail and

wild asparagus coat of arms motif,
but particularly her artistry
paternal branch Harris and
maternal Russian limb named Kuritsky,
yet now unwittingly feel stumped
I ruminate, speculate, tabulate..., re:

garding one or more descendent did trumpet
objectionable bent with bias, decadent,
flagrant... haughty jarring averse trait
invariably patriarchal heir arch key
impossible impossible to hold figurative tongue
and rebuke stereotypical tendency

resigning, excluding, kraaling..., privileges
to any persons except Caucasian wealth thee
males, who fathered established, commandeered...
western civilization paradigm, I smart
with displeasure at gross injustice curtailed free
choice to acquire unshackled life, liberty,

and pursuit amidst avast booming population,
whose supposed inalienable rights blithely
usurped and denigrated creed, ethnicity,
and indisputably those with frizzy
hair still evident this late date two thousand
nineteen, I decry, grieve, lament,... particular lee

how women haint got no choice - chattel
to grand poobahs - to terminate pregnant sea
really irksome, when predicted on incest, rape
non viable offspring...violation this
garden variety poetaster recoils with knee
jerk loathsome, how young females jailed
if they undergo abortion

(with unwanted, unloved, unborn..., bay bee
thru no fault in their own stars),
punishment nasty, brutal and abhorrent
essentially enslaving the gentler sex lee
ving terror and horror, when peering into mirror
ogre looming ready to strangle gal lest she
obey mandate else...


Anathema Bloom

They measured my soul
against doctrine

and found
its constellation
too wayward
to be blessed.

Thus I was entrusted
to the reliquary
of uncanonized marvels:

an alabaster raven
whose argent plumage
bewildered midnight;

a chrysoprase chalice,
hairlined with centuries,
yet sweeter
than untouched crystal;

a black asphodel
whose fragrance
outlived every psalm;

and one bent aureole,
still luminous
where perfection
would have fractured.

I entered
the vesper orchard.

Cinnabar fruit
ripened beneath eclipses.

The wind officiated,

censing the dark
with myrrh,

until respiration itself
became liturgy.

There,

obsidian lilies
raised their chalices
beyond the jurisdiction
of dawn.

No scripture
remembered them.

Yet the stars
crossed more slowly
above their perfume.

Upon an abandoned shelf

the pale circumference
of a lifted vessel
remained.

Dust had refused it.

Time had not.

Then every relic
relinquished
its disguise.

The bent aureole
had merely learned
the curvature
mercy requires.

The alabaster raven
was daylight
remembering itself
before colour
accepted obedience.

The fractured chalice
held more heaven
than the cathedral
that refused it.

Your silence arrived

with the faint sweetness
left inside a cupboard
after a cherished vessel
has been lifted away.

Every thorn
forgot blood.

Every serpent
its verdict.

Every stone
its apprenticeship
to violence.

Then the hidden ordinance
of creation
stood unveiled.

Paradise has never dwelt
inside perfection.

Its earliest radiance
has always sought
whatever certainty
condemns first.

The universe keeps its original face

inside whatever perfection
cannot imitate.

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