Slava Ukraini!
shroud the gallery's glass doors,
a solitary scene of grazing goats,
greets the guests along with music.
Confident, brush strokes curl muted
colors of rustic farm houses
behind broken, split-rail fences
on a cloudy Carpathian
day drawn by an artist sitting
in ruined, ravished Kherson -
a limping dog of a city
with patches of bare skin showing.
Other pictures, different story;
dark, dreadful, desolate people
in burnt, battered, bombed-out cities;
children clamber over charred wrecks
in streets strewn with bricks and debris.
Is the first picture - real or dream?
Drawn by an artist 'neath fiery missiles,
scene the artist pretends exist
to get through one more day of war?
1886 BROADWAY BETWEEN 62ND & 63RD STREETS
Advance Tickets – badseedcinemas.com
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DIRTY WORK
12:05, 2:15, 4:35, 7:00, 9:15PM
FOUNTAIN OF TRUTH
12:55, 5:10, 7:25, 9:40PM
CICADAPOCALYPSE
11:00AM, 1:00, 3:15, 5:25, 7:45, 10:00PM
ROTTEN THINGS
12:00, 2:05, 4:20, 6:40, 9:05PM
MAKING MANDY BEG
1:30, 3:30, 8:00, 9:55PM
CARPATHIAN OBSESSIONS
12:10, 2:30, 4:40, 7:05, 9:30PM
MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL
11:10AM, 5:30PM
UNLICENSED P*RN*GRAPHY
11:05AM, 3:00PM
MUSICAL SODOMY: IN CONCERT
6:30, 8:30PM
HARD ROAD TO EASYVILLE
12:00 MIDNIGHT
THE COMPLETE JACKASS COLLECTION
24/7
MR. SUNSHINE - LIVE
BY APPOINTMENT
BADSEEDPROMOTIONS
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I have fashioned my desire from Carpathian obsessions,
Indulging in the calm between extremes.
It’s a blood and iron promise that sets my soul alight,
Embarked upon a pilgrimage of dreams.
Standing on the foredeck in a silent, moonlit trance,
Sipping from a chalice rimmed with stars.
Knowing when I find her, I’ll be three sheets to the wind,
Branded by an irony of scars.
all we do is talk about the weather
in our own cellar language
and I want to accept
the truism of your perceptions
mainly to untangle the plot
but I ponder through seasons of augury
the intent of seven sisters
is perilous like tangent lines
and turns us into oblivious receivers
overcome by the haunting remorse
myths are lost with quiet humility
in another rebirth of blue moon
the uncontrollable power of destruction
is slowly getting into our penetrable thoughts
and strangely I'm your artificial hero
god lowered by the stage machinery
the elemental barricade of transitional gateways
even your tormented vision of love
dancing through the fourth dimension
we're chasing the unstable happiness
fighting the wakefulness of irrational age
we're awakened in self-sacrifice universe
born under the sign of the rabbit
we're expecting the divine intervention
by precise creation of water and metal
we collapse to each other as weeks go by
At the Borgo Pass I met a coach and horse,
And the villagers warned me not to go,
They were worried about a supernatural force,
But I had business in Transylvania, though.
The coach rumbled along the Carpathian mountain road,
Through the lightning and pounding rain,
We arrived at an old, darkened abode,
And I thought this trip was all in "vein".
But then opened the great castle door,
And the Count bid me welcome to his house,
He cast no shadow on the floor,
Where scurried a bat and a mouse.
In the mirror he cast no reflection,
On our dinner he did not dine,
And upon my curious inspection,
He drank no water or wine.
Then late that night I awoke with fright,
As something hovered over my bed,
Then I felt a quick, sharp bite,
From a vampire who's eyes glowed red.
Then cried the children of the night,
As all at once, there shined a beam,
I awoke to see a ray of sunlight,
And realized it was all just a dream.
(This poem was my tribute to "Dracula" by Bram Stoker)
The light of the moon serves as source
For my once beating heart, now still
As I wander the lonely corridors of time
Eternal, to grip my breathless, lifeless chest
Each day’s a seductress, but surely my death
For the awaking moon is my life, my morning
To then search high and low for fulfillment
Only to be left with blood of life, not my own
Oh, the pain of the never aging flesh I retain
It serves as the captor, the origin of my demise
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.