Best Golem Poems
unholy earth, dark with stein
unformed loam at birth;
a worded child of mud,
fingernail skinned blacklack eyes
peek out of a ball of wet slam,
a groundling that waves like a black branch
across the sleeping fields,
see a shadow under the cold grass,
near in sight under a crust of frost
Ghosts, Hosts’ with the mostest
In the House of the dead, Ghost's roam their home they once lived before becoming spirits.
Crickets serenaded near their catacomb; Tree's creek buried deep in loam from the breeze.
Serving Cores light and blue cheese balls to Fairies visiting from the mores.
A Burmese python chasing mice on the splintering wooden floor.
Gargoyle's crash through a trap door causing an uproar as witches with big sores riding brooms zoom down the fireplace.
Unicorns give chase to Gryphon wearing lace around their chins.
A Golem and an Ogre sit quietly talking to one another giving off a stomach-churning odor.
Centaurs fought a banshee shrieking so loudly cracked a marble column.
Gnomes decided to make this place their home with the phoenix in the attic away from the combated Leprechauns living near their garden dome.
The host Ghosts bring out the last of the wine and served pickled swine having a fun time their orbs twinkling like disco balls down the halls.
2/13/2021
sponsor Julia Ward
Transmogrification into hideous golem like beast...
Seeks to lavish adoration,
especially after freshly deceased
cuz, upon yar flesh I will voraciously
devour thee asthma Christmas feast
mee haint not a cannibal,
cuz this humane anthropophagist
expresses love daintily, hungrily,
and with lips smacking and creased
devours thee charbroiled,
chargrilled, raw or greased.
The above worst case scenario if you
ignore serious warning
and interrupt my sleep
particularly during
rapid eye movement phase,
cuz vital to dream unconsciously deep
if left alone (meaning no awakening me
into foggy, groggy, and soggy state)
lest I manifest into a creep
more horrific (think)
by Dickens Uriah Heep.
Ordinarily mine Hyde bound diabolical
persona non grata
kept under wraps
dramatic malevolent manifestation
only appears only,
when requisite precious dream snaps
courtesy when some wise acre
foolish enough upon me noggin
doth drums, joyfully raps
itty in Blue knuckles (think drum),
cuz as An American in Paris
on permanent holiday courtesy lapse
of rhyme reason
(thank prefrontal lobotomy
to alleviate oppressive
anxiety linkedin with)
absence of necessary cerebral apps
induces predilection to relapse
into atavistic Geico caveman perhaps,
with courtesy bonafide frayed jockstraps
suddenly pops, crackles and snaps
in my body whereby sanity doth caps
eyes, that mashing monster aside,
ye ken count me mandate
fiend in Southeastern Pennsylvania
look no further then bleached lovely bones
formerly missus (sob...sob...sob...)
who thankfully no longer zaps.
Thus allowing, enabling,
and providing yours truly,
not ordinarily unruly
a bachelor Matthew Scott,
(but never known as Dani Boy) duly
available as coolie
cooking up house special wooly
mammoth and side order of tabouli.
He was in love, deep, romantic love.
She was standoffish, aloof, above,
no need for pointless ideas thereof.
It was forbidden, like fox and dove.
His clay a gritty earthy mixture.
Hers a sweet creamy marble picture
of comfort, a permanent fixture.
His secret love a proscribed stricture.
So he sat at her feet each long day
writing the love words he could not say.
He greatly feared from her side to stray
lest someone come and take her away.
He searched for the same magic by night
that brought him to life and gave him sight.
Hoping that her stone wings would take flight
and sweep them from this piteous plight.
I carry vials in a pack on my back
containing the remnants of my past
desiccated into dust
pulverized into powder
At the side of the rutted road I stop
at intervals as I aimlessly wander
Carefully choosing one, mixing the contents
with muddy water from puddles, drops of blood
I prick from the tips of my tender fingers
creating clay I attempt to sculpt and mold
into something more than before
A life I was not allowed to live
A golem of a me that will never be
A form pleasing to your finicky eyes
that favor petite perfection
blind to the beauty that resides beyond
that time cannot touch
transcending the transient physical
She cracks and crumbles in my hands
before I can complete her
as I do not know the name of God
He has never cared to know mine
Truth and death in art
but a letter apart
Soon, O toil? Take, tamarisk?
Athlete, hurl disc!
Flickering fog in fine-kept frisk!
Blessings in the brisk!
Amiable heaven, hell:
What to do about?
Blood congeal and ichor gel!
Set fire to the spout!
Yes, indeed. And human need?
We don't share their greed?
Apostate, dost thou still bleed?
Masses, doth ye feed?
Taken, look at twilight?
See lights as far away?
Shark and kraken, at the fight?
Squid colossal, stray?
Woe in state of torment?
Yes, and who to blame?
Queen of Carthage, thy lament!
Aryan King, the same!
Atoms, split! O judge, acquit!
Blind to what was bit?
Harpsichord cube, take that hit!
Cobra, will ye spit?
Halo on the harpy? Yes.
That is what we bless!
Bitterness and doubt! Duress;
Should we second-guess?
River made of tentacles;
What ore here doth lie?
Blossoming the brazen bulls!
Silver soar the sly!
Yellow flake in ancient creek;
What lends thy mystique?
Barbarian, learned thy Greek?
Turned, taciturn chic?
Toil, turmoil, trite, terror?
Miseries of the box?
Blame beset, O boiling burr?
Penury, thy phlox?
Thanks given to traveling tale?
Bill of slave, thy sale.
O salvation, ride the rail!
Haymaker, thy bale!