Long Cauterized Poems
Long Cauterized Poems. Below are the most popular long Cauterized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cauterized poems by poem length and keyword.
This article is about the underground lyricist and outlaw musician. For other uses, see Zoltan Goliath, Brent Scorn, Lydia Fox, C. Günter Marrow, Elzbieta Bienga (disambiguation).
Otis (Trench Mouth) Trench was born with pneumonia in a black-rain steel town in Third World, Pennsylvania. He was not expected to survive and received Last Rites. His unction was so extreme, however, Death could not grab hold and he slipped away. He grew up wild, learned his letters from a ragman’s son and took off for the high country and the deep blue sea. Upon his return, he landed a job tending bar in a low life shot-and-beer joint called the Old Salem Tavern, but referred to by locals as The Country Whore Inn. He began composing lyrics as a way of minding the tide and easing the drift. It continues to be an on-going process. In a recent interview with the fashion editor of A Dim, Dark Mirror, Mr. Trench was quoted as saying:
At this specific stage of my existence, and in consideration of the circumstances in which I find myself, it surprises me to discover that rumors of my downfall have been insinuated within the chronology of my tenure, since, upon completion of an extensive and thorough inventory of my physical and spiritual estate, as best can be determined by the faculties I still retain within my possession and deemed by myself to be valid and reliable given an honest assessment of the facts of the matter; I testify for the official record, and in a fashion suitable to be notarized, authorized and cauterized, that regarding the state of my particulars, I am of the firm, unwavering opinion, despite whatever dissenting voices may be heard chiming discordantly in some distant pasture of manure-sodden earth seeking to either disturb my slumber or provoke my wrath, and regardless of whatever graying whiskers I may in fact possess, I aver assuredly that in contradiction to all appearances and any other details not withstanding – my ass ain’t draggin’ yet. In consideration of my prognosis, would you hike up your skirt a little higher, honey?
Unexpectedly, I heard she was still alive.
She had been living (as a flame),
in a room
I had made for her in my mind.
I had kept her there tucked away,
sedated and forever young.
Now I hear she is alive, though a little arthritic,
and living in Sussex with four cats.
Of course, the affair must now cease.
The fantasy cauterized,
her body heat squeezed out of my bloodstream
like a spicy toothpaste.
I should hate for her to see me as I am now
besides my own youth has become a ghost to me,
but perhaps just one more time
I will enter that secret place
where I know
she waits for me, still smiling seductively.
Destiny demands that we be the debtor
that we sacrafice for the skin of our future,
We left the cradle of the Caucasuses to explore,
to plant the dreams of our Creator,
venturing into the virgin chaos
where the tiger tears apart the trespasser
We made the way, we made love with our Cause,
following the highway of the emerald pasture
from the Euxine to the shimmer of the Yellow Sea
finding war and wealth in the weight of adventure
subduing savages with frightening ferocity
managing frontiers with a proud mercy,
leaving behind our blood's legacy
trading safety for salt, vanity for victory,
Trading safety for salt, vanity for victory
coming home to the Black Sea
introducing steel smelting and a taste for head hunting,
scalping Cimmerians with glee
assailing the Assyrians
extorting Egyptians
respected by Hellenes
dominating Asiatic Indians
cabletowing Celts
and pouncing on Persians,
Phoenicians filled their boats
with exotic Scythian goods,
We were collectors of civilised throats,
our empire needs no roads
Our empire needs no roads,
Saka, Sauromatae, Massagatae, Tocharians, Scythians
We are One, ancient craftsmen and warlords,
our women were the Amazons
Cauterized breast and soldier slayers
Tomyris taught Cyrus
that bloodbaths belong to the losers,
the Scythian wilderness of war jeered Darius,
Zopyrion was made carrion
Alexander wisely just carried on,
to the Romans we were Sarmatian and Hun
Scythes being ancestors to the Gothic Confederation,
a culture canvassing the breadth of all civilization
migrating ever westward into the echo of the sun,
Migrating ever westward into the echo of the sun
bringing our wagons, warcraft, and women
custom of the blood oath quietly open
the wine, and honest blood spun
the two of us swearing in between a lifelong stare
will you be there
when I'm scared,
will you care
when death is there,
will you wait for me
when the war barks near,
will you honor me
when the fire becomes just a whisper,
our oath is our soul keeping
J.A.B. 2020
I'm thinking I have a disease
Despair has gripped me by my feet
Dragged me down to the cold floor
And used me until I couldn't take it anymore
I found a cure to eternal life
Slower and longer than a rusty knife
But it hits me just the same
Cauterized with a smoky flame
My throat is burning
Fingers turning
Over a lighter and a smoke
And my brow is soaked
How long til something finally breaks?
How long until it's more than I can take?
I'm too exhausted to even talk
I'm being worn down like the smoothest rock
I try to strike the match again
Burned my fingers and my smoky brain
A sudden fear comes back to me
Won't you come help me lose my memory?
It's getting easier
To fail to please her,
My addiction to despair
Is stronger than for air
I'm a victim of my own design
I am my own executioner
I'm a victim of my own design
I am my own worst enemy
A battlefront benefactress,
She has her fortress, a fortified Princess, inside the dungeon of distress,
Tiled with the bone chips of ingratitude colored in pigments of black bright & rugid red,
An arrowhead chandelier illuminated by wicked tears, wet with woe,
Everybody saw her wedding dress, they all knew the warfield wardrobe,
But how many cared to touch her sorrow gown, how it hung on those exhausted shoulders,
The lilac one piece she wore for private pain,
Gain gauged by perseverence of self defense, vengence on Victory's tombstone,
How many visit that ceremony, where love is isolated amidst jealousy's cackle,
Do any of them frown with sympathy for the debt of her crown,
For every jewel in the tierra there exists a bruise upon her beautiful body,
An assault levied by the 'learned', the rape of a writer wrought by the wretchedly wanton,
Honors earned ransomed by pitiful rivalry, kindness taken in the grip of disingenuous delight,
Some say her very name is a curse, an anethema from some God foresaken moon,
Poet Destroyer, 'Too much nerve, too much passion' they exclaim,
Its only natural for her ingrown throne to be a thorn
In the fingertip of the editorial 'elite',
They know we will bleed for her grace like the children of wild sport,
The Poet Destroyer shall not hurt us as educators of deformity do,
She will not impose false limits on our brows,
She will not strike our eyes with rotten ink,
And look now you vultures of vice, we are Legion,
We are Brothers and Sisters of the Quill, raise your sight and behold our Worshipful Queen,
She rests not long in the sanctuary of her inner star, here we are,
Leading the war march towards you with captured & dried quills
Of imposter poets lashed to her sheild of cauterized parchment
Imprinted with the blessings of all literary Titans who have warred before,
We step forward While chanting in crazed concentration,
Oh woe to you,
Victors of vanity, victims of sanity!!!
This composition has been made in honor of the Poet Destroyer, aka. Linda,
A beautiful woman, a guiding Light, a warrior of liberated and Divine Art.
J.A.B.
We set foot on dry grass at the cockcrow
of a nascent union.
Cheek to cheek as Cupid towers
over the rose inside my heart,
shooting arrows at a dyad draped in fire,
gliding through the tundras of charred weeds,
fin-like petals quake beneath our feet.
The sun unloads its savage heat in torrents,
thermal downpours drench the wedded seam,
blisters left on Sinai soul mate psyches,
rain shadow or bajada by the bye!
Aphrodite’s children from the pampas,
teether on phlogiston’s manic figment,
cauterized, rock-ribbed, raw emotion rivulets ablaze.
Firebrands of first flush in all but name.
Plumes of tropic passion wrap, us madagascan parrots,
trill and troll sidekicks one and all, showing off our feathers
high above the arid air. sweat soaked garments
reek of clammy cuddles, shredded, torn,
strung loosely round the limbs of new born flames.
Cindered patch exposed on lover’s skein without a balm.
Soaptree yucas proudly fence the rapids giddy gurgle.
Frothy sidemen serenade the cherry blossom sweethearts,
lilting love notes found in every strain.
Knotted woodlands understory,
nuptial suite propped up by swollen nodes.
Eternal palms outstretched,
love puppets on a compass point astride the boundless needle.
Viola viscera, songbird incarnate, bow to my enchanted fiddle.
Together forever, alone at last
No torrid steel rod cauterized my wounds
I could not lick the festering gashes clean
Your sharp-bladed tongue bit too deep
fangs plunged with each vile cursed scene
No mere prick or scratch did you inflict
as thorns draw drops from a finger laid bare
You severed our dangling cord with a stare
Without gauntlet thrown before you swayed
I was waylaid in the pitfall of vows betrayed
I sat weeping upon moistened ground
faintly hearing from ears, a snarling sound
a vile bitterness in your laughter as I stirred
If you have a conscience, I shall be its burr
You turned your back and sidled away
basking in glory; your cruelty had been done
but there is no victory for you, nothing won
for a man whose feet were molded of clay
How often you preyed on weakness of others
while you played at being sanctimonious
Liquid courage brings death that smothers
but I escaped the hold you once tightly held
before my life had been snuffed and felled
I still breathe and I've no fear to speak
I've been set free, and I'm no longer weak
My tongue holds daggers of its own
whetted on the grind stone of your deception
I was hungry for strength, parched with thirst
to take vengeance as my anger grew
emotions that were long past due
Felling you would then label me a doer of evil
which is something I would never desire to be
Vengeance will never be mine to take
knowing this is true is what set me free
Years will pass but I shall never forget
that I was true to you, yet I sorely regret
not realizing the kind of person I loved
I've moved on and no longer grieve
while you still swim in the fiery waters
of your besotted world of make believe
I was born underwater with lungs oversized,
With gills immature in a world full of smog,
I'm filling petition to be cauterized,
And end other chapter in life’s fragile log.
I was born black and white with extremities gray,
The plaintiff accuses what I might hide,
It's nothing but SOUL constantly at play,
With spoonfuls of turquoise rolling down off life's slide...
Implosion of rainbows will probably be
The cause of my passing unknown and alone.
When thrown overboard and deep into sea
I'll finally return to my home long time gone...
I've moved in a place with no windowless chamber,
Where time has no meaning and waiting is painless,
If I had any hopes, I swear - don't remember...
And don't recognize him, his sorrow is senseless.
I have died underwater, reborn in blue nights,
Don't need oxygen to play with the whales.
Remember when watching those great Northern Lights
That Mother is smiling behind Nature’s veils.
for Constances contest "Mother"
SATURATED IN SOLITUDE
The sweat and toil of snowflakes fall like great big oaks.
Silent when no one’s around to hear, but I hear them call.
I sweep the bounty flakes with the soul of my boot. Folks
absent from this flight of serenity, solitude of downy strokes.
The tip of my tongue cleansed. Soap petals after the brawl.
Shivering satisfaction, saturation of snow queen’s court.
My hair ribboned in whitest white of purity and regal right.
Eyelashes gather wisdom’s chill, woolen hands wield forte
of legible knowledge. My sacred head cauterized in port.*
Saturated in solitude, my bruises and scars see the light.
4/16/2018
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time 2
Fictional account
*port - sweet wine
No torrid steel rod cauterized my wounds
for I couldn't lick the festering gashes clean.
Your sharp-bladed tongue bit too deep,
fangs plunged with each vile cursed scene.
No mere prick or scratch did you inflict
as thorns draw drops from a finger laid bare.
You severed our marriage cord with a stare.
Without gauntlet thrown before you I swayed
when waylaid in the pitfall of vows betrayed.
I sat weeping upon tear-stained ground,
covering my ears not to hear the snarling sound
of vile bitterness in your laughter. My eyes burning
then thought... I am the one who should be spurning
You turned your back and sidled away
basking in glory; your cruelty had been done
but there is no victory for you, nothing won
for a man whose feet were molded of clay
How often you preyed on weakness of others
while you played at being sanctimonious
Liquid courage brings death that smothers
but I escaped the hold you once tightly held
before my life had been snuffed and felled
I still breathe and I've no fear to speak
I've been set free, and I'm no longer weak
My tongue holds daggers of its own
whetted on the grindstone of your deception
I was hungry for strength, parched with thirst
to take vengeance as my anger grew
emotions that were long past due
Felling you would then label me a doer of evil
which is something I would never desire to be
Vengeance will never be mine to take
knowing this is true is what set me free
Years will pass but I shall never forget
that I was true to you, and how sorely I regret
not realizing the kind of man, I once loved.
I've moved on and no longer grieve
while you still swim in the fiery waters
of your besotted world of make believe.