think …
of the abyss …
unimaginably, unbearably cold
pressure that turns bones (and flesh) to vapor
eight tons - sixteen thousand pounds - per
each … square … inch …
a darkness quite unforgiving -
blacker than black
and yet …
LIFE …
burgeons in multitudes
otherworldly creatures that create their
own light in rhythmic patterns
fantastic organisms that
are so strange and striking they look alien
such an inhospitable world
yet things thrive …
I …
am such an abyss
intensely cold
a darkness beyond black
deep and desolate and bleak
compressed by encumbrance and a disquiet
that can turn bone to vapors …
pain that has no nerve
unbearable wretchedness … without origin
acerbic tears that do not drip -
they burn … and fester
but …
things live
odd creatures exist here -
freakish beasts of indeterminate shape and ire
that feed on joy … and purpose
they crawl and creep
and shiver …
and wait.
Yet another vestige of love lost
whetted cheeks and swollen eyes
life's cruel moments wreak havoc
within the softness of one's heart.
A heart stops beating with malice
the breath gone in a rattle and hum
final whispers and the brain quivers
dormant pulse and a bluish pallor.
The tempest roars insatiably loud
a body can be lost, never to be found
great ships disintegrate upon granite
lives are left, penned on parchment.
The Reaper stares jubilant from rocks
as a grand lighthouse loses once more.
Clothing and splintered wood float by
as rubble and rabble left on the shore.
In a stormy gale, glows a freakish orb
slapped by the tail of a golden stingray
harbinger doomed in a soulless sky
tears in the torrent beget a dark night.
Of time when thoughts,
Wander to school days
When we were just kids,
Blissfully unaware,
Just fun days.
Worried about monsters
Living under our beds,
Running away from
Nap times.
Now,
Years later, just wishing,
Wanting to go back.
Shadow thoughts,
Clinging, never leaving.
To hunting waking nightmares,
Worried about
Monsters in human skin,
Praying for nighttime
To come faster.
Now, just trying to survive,
Just another day.
And then- "I looked at something so unbelievably beautiful, so very attractive in every possible way that I just completely fell into or under some kind of freakish and magical wonderful spell. I was over-taken by her classy style, her sassy sass, and her gorgeous, and her perfectly shaped, fit to a T... Red hot - "Ass"
Thank you, Lord, and thank you Jesus...
you sure know how to surely please us!
Frazzled freakish freckled Flo
Generously gives gifts on the go
Huckster Hugo has eyes for Flo
If they get together, who will know?
Just Jeremy, Jenny, Jimmy and Joe
Kindly crazy kin set up a glow
Lighting the meadow for Hank and Flo
Midnight merriment, a fireworks show
The relentless enemy, from a trench,
Wages psychological war.
Against the barrage, your teeth clench
As he fires shots you can't ignore.
You are not good enough; you must do more.
You are inadequate, for sure.
Better yet, don't get up from the floor.
You're bound to fail, simple and pure.
Your foe escalates with a hand grenade -
You are a pathetic case.
No one could ever want you, I'm afraid.
Stay home and hide your face.
Your brutal antagonist now drops a nuke,
And you freeze inside your core.
In this world, you are a freakish fluke.
There's no place for you no more.
Oh, the pernicious, insidious dread -
It's the voice from the trenches in your head.
Matrix: Red pill please
By Michelle Morris
26/06/2020
Do you see me?
Am I real in this world?
Or am I a being in a matrix
Of controlled hysteria?
Please give me the red pill -
Take down the maze of pretence
and obfuscation;
I want the truth and my freedom...
To choose -
To live
To hope
To dream...
To be anything I want
In between the light and the
Shadows...
A warrior or saviour or
Freakish gamer...
As changed or unchanged
As I choose...
With the red pill
I can't lose...
Do you see me?
Am I real in this world?
Or am I a ghost in a
Matrix
Not of my choosing.
© Michelle Morris, 2020
Johnny jonquil jerry justified jilly’s jeu jeu bee
Dilly dally Doolittle dodged debonair simon legree’s degree
Freakish freddy frogmouth forever frolicked footloose and free
Michigan mike’s handy hardy heart hovers over a wild monkey
Photogentic photons prance prettily in posey’s poignant plea
Sparkling sprinkling sprockets on a special soupy spree
Verigated visiting venomous vines vying for an upside down vee,
Neopolitan negativity knicking nora, knocking knibber’s knee
Tricept’s trepidation tripping towards tutu bubu trees
Hampton’s heavy hyenas heading home with loud heehees
I should hate to lose them in a freakish accident.
They have brought me so much pleasure
wandering as they do like shell-less crabs
between the waymarks of self.
I love to make them dance like windblown leaves.
Leonardo da Vinci was fascinated by hands,
he understood that if you could capture them
you could shape cathedrals out of air & water,
they are often more eloquent than words.
I like to turn them over, as I would turn over
a page of scripture.
They are almost weightless.
every ounce of flesh takes the strain
working cantilevers, pulling ropes
lifting them above gravity.
Shamelessly they openly appear naked
in public
When I recall how they have been abused
I ask them for forgiveness.
At times, I want to clean them
like seabirds caught in an oil slick.
Then I remember that they are my art,
also the mute witnesses
of my many fumbled catches,
yet they wash me every day
as I wash them.
Saturday Bang
By Craig J. Burt/Jimmy Boom Semtex
All those freakish skinheads take a hike
Hey Hey Hey
Rock and roll and crash this pub
All the men grab your ladies
Cheers!!!
Fill up our mugs with fresh cold beer
Happy weekend everyone
All back to front take the pub!
Steal their beer kiss their gals
We are the lads we own this town
Nobody messes with us
We mess them up bop them
Ladies love a ruffian
They smile and wait we Kings
JIM N CRAIG POEMS BOOK 3
Joint poems by Craig J. Burt and Jimmy Boom Semtex
out in 23
Feverish flowery flippant freakish fantailed floozy who needed grounding
Flimflammed, flashed, flipped and flinched a fabulous frugal foundling
Fortuitous flexible frazzled French flamingos flash-mobbed a fernlike finch
On Friinge of this freakish failed flopped frenzy, I received a friendly pinch.
Happiness comes to those who cultivate friends
Mapping out a future, knowing their destination
Do not fall victim to freakish fads and trends,
Taking life as it comes without undue hesitation.
Mapping out a future, knowing their destination
They never seek approval from unsavory thugs
Taking life as it comes without undue hesitation,
Find comfort and peace in warm, caring hugs.
They never seek approval from unsavory thugs
Living the good life filled with pleasures galore,
Find comfort and peace in warm, caring hugs
Always taking the time to adventure and explore.
Living the good life filled with pleasures galore,
Relishing good relationships with their family, too
Always taking the time to adventure and explore
Adhering to cherished values, avoiding the taboo.
Relishing good relationships with their family, too
Do not fall victim to freakish fads and trends
Adhering to cherished values, avoiding the taboo,
Happiness comes to those who cultivate friends.
Written January 31, 2022
Freakish Fanny fled fine Finland
For far-fetched Formosa fields,
Forsaking fantastic fiords forever
Forfeiting flourishing forests,
Frigid fertile farmland, festivals
Forgetting feared future fighting.
written January 22, 2022
She listened to him grovel,
realizing he deserved no mercy
she recognized him from another time
the court was watching
so she pretended to be considering his plea
all the time plotting a slow unnatural painful death
for this conniver, fraud, and freakish abuser of women
Glad to be the power of the throne now,
holding herself back from instantly cutting off his head
for she wanted him to have a very slow demise.
True, a Myth-and-a-half ever since dim Antiquity
“Breathes there the Man with Soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said
This is my own, my Native Land”
True, a myth-and-a-half ever since dim antiquity
Who breeds and holds the brood in binding sanctity
Isn’t s/he who sows and let grow blood ties in family
Don’t leaders all use the ruse of saluting country
La Patrie is never the suffering Peoples’ victory
They lay their lives down for their leaders’ greater glory
The plot of land’s where the Soul ignites anonymity
In the au-delà is not country mere pure vanity
Leaders lay wreathes at monuments for tv publicity
Upstarts win lone battle or two through freakish strategy
And let expanding borders be besieged by many enemy
Yet end-up somehow by losing the Imperial Army
Shouldn’t he who seeks to foist himself on a polity
Be required to pass the test of Ego-immunity
No vaccination nor re-inoculation would be free
From an overdose of megalomaniac frenzy
© T. Wignesan –Paris, April 9, 2021
Sub Categories
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.