Long Gnawed Poems
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The faded wooden doors of the church
Loomed over me like the gates of hell.
A portal of anger and sadness,
That could consume my very body and soul,
Like a rabid dog looking for sanity
Forcing me into a typhoon of misery
And freezing me for a moment in time,
To remember a reality
That’s no longer real.
My soul, no longer a part of me,
Watching from above;
I watched my feet carry me,
With stuttering steps
Like a dying child;
Flowers of all kinds,
Roses, carnations, and ferns,
Poked their heads from every corner
Like peeping children
Hiding from their angry mothers.
Their smell no longer sweet
But reeked of death and heartache.
I no longer wanted to breathe
Panic ripped through my heart
Like a jagged knife
Tearing every ounce of sanity from my soul.
I gaped in fear as I saw her face,
A face that had once
Radiated with sunshine and laughter
Like a rainbow after a storm.
Was now filled with death and silence
To never again hold the key of life
But locked for eternity
In tragedy and despair,
Taking with her my life
And burning the bridge behind her.
I reached out for her hand
Then drew back in terror,
As her icy flesh burnt my skin;
A hand once warm and full of love
That comforted me,
Now lay motionless for eternity.
Sounds of grief and heartbreak
Burnt my ears like fire,
Causing me to glance in every direction;
People, many I knew,
Looked as if they too were in hell
Being gnawed at
By grief and pain.
My knees swayed,
Like a bridge in a terrible storm,
And buckled beneath me,
Throwing me violently to the floor;
As I lay cold and beaten,
I no longer cared to live,
My life was gone;
I looked up, hoping God would take me,
But saw only darkness instead.
Gradually, in the midst of that darkness,
Was a tiny light.
A light so bright and pure
I had to shield my eyes;
It called to me to get up
And like a broken child
I crawled to my feet;
I stood facing her
Her shiny skin gleamed in the light
Like a shooting star
As her beauty
Transcended her body.
At that moment she spoke to me
Begging me to go on;
I turned from her,
Facing the once hellish gates,
And staggered into a heavenly place
She promised to wait for me.
I reached for the handles of the heavy door
And walked out into the light,
A place where she and I
Were to live together
For all eternity.
Form:
Take heed where you receive your prophecy One may call herself a prophetess only to miss only she is the self-fulfilled sealed by her own prodigy to kill true prophets to take what is thine your bliss Like Jezebel all dressed up with nothing to show to take the life of others while she threatens to take all Painted scarlet with silken tongue only the veneer of divine gold * * By the true God and His prophets the words that came to pass The place where dogs licked the blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy blood for her whoredom and witchcrafts the land had no peace was alas Jehu rode under her window not as her Romeo to pine for her love with the words who is with me the eunuchs by her bed Her writing sprinkled on the wall as Jehu’s stead stood tall not swayed by her fleshly desires through Jezebel to her death * * The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel by the Word of Lord Jehu celebrates the call but compassion for she was a king's daughter Go bury the woman accursed but no rest for the wicked ward for the false bread will never profit nor tread upon the true waters The skull, and the feet, and the palms of her hands is all that was found
The Sprit of Jesus is the Spirit of prophecy so I do pray you heed His call prophesying from your own heart will end like Jezebel’s gnawed by hounds
I don’t think I have ever written another poem of such emotional intensity! I was bedridden for almost four months. It was at such a desperate moment that I thought of scribbling down my feelings of despair and I found words coming out like a sudden spurt! It was a new awakening! I wrote nearly 34 poems in a period of nearly two and a half months, all in bed which I included in my first collection entitled BEATS. I still believe it was something providential...! Never had I written a single poem before!!
Left alone in a dull and dreary mood,
With none to lean on and look for,
I tethered my soul to sordid gloom,
And chained my fancy, never letting it soar.
Dull were the days and sore were the nights,
Time slouched on in mechanical beats.
Mind devoid of all buoyant thoughts,
Senses shut to every cheery throb of life,
I lay awake, staring on the ceiling above,
My eyes, so lost in a fixed stare,
Never a smile lighted up my stony face,
Nor a gleam of hope brightened up my brain.
Inertia crept over from head to foot.
I had long lost my zest for life,
With life saps drained out like an empty well,
I felt nothing but the heat of scorching drought.
Nothing could move my grief laden soul,
None could lift the weight off my back,
Embers of fire sparked from the anvil of my heart,
Heaves of sighs escaped from parched mouth,
I wriggled and writhed in unspeakable pain,
My spirits sank deeper into a slithery marsh,
I saw around only a thick pall of gloom,
Or was it a projection of my own self?
Anguish gnawed my nerves and sinews,
Flames of pain danced within my spine,
I felt my head so heavy and beginning to reel,
And the heavy weight of lead all around my neck.
I felt being pushed down to abysmal depths,
And the octopus tightening its tentacles all around
Who on earth will set me free?
What on earth can lift me up?
With thundering force, the question shook my weary self.
I sprang to my feet and broke loose my chains,
I found I was but in self – exile,
A captive entrapped within boundless space.
I saw the door opening to infinite lengths,
And the arched horizon looming larger than life,
I spread my wings and propelled up,
And darted through the clouds to distant shores,
Never to come down, where I thought I could dwell forever.
Are you ok?! Matt, asked as his eyes searched the dark. Fear gnawed at his spirit. “Yeah, I’m ok…wait!, I can’t feel my legs!”. His girlfriend cried. “I can’t feel my legs, Hon! It’s like they’re not there!” He leaned over, holding on to her, feeling for her legs. Then he breathe a sigh of relief, that they were fine. “Just lean on me, Baby”. “Where’s everybody?” she asked. One minute there were others walking, driving in cars, street and car lights lit the streeet, now they stood in pitch black darkness, confused and afraid of the unknown.
“I think we should sit right here, out of the path until we figure out what’s
happening”, he suggested. “Yeah, I guess". But what's with my legs?” “I
remember there was a bench a few feet back just alongside of the sidewalk, near
an oak tree”. He took out his cell phone, it would reflect some light and nothing
happened, it was dead. His nerves were rattled by the situation. “Look, we’re going
to have to feel our way towards that bench, Honey. Can you feel the street
beneath you now?” He asked. “No, I can’t”. She replied, her voice shaky. “Ok, here
we go.” Matt picked her up in his strong arms and with ginger steps, began to walk
in the opposite direction, using his left foot to feel alongside the concrete for the
wooden bench. With electricity this would take a few seconds, however, this
seemed like it would take forever. Finally his Nike touched the edge of the bench
and he turned to place her down gently.
Grateful that was over, his mind began to focus once more. Standing up, his eyes
searching the darkness seemingly endless, he realized that it would be
impossible to walk back home, as maneuvering the streets was something he could
do by himself, but not if he carried her in his arms. Silence ruled the darkness
with each passing moment. It felt like they were in a vacuum. None of the usual
cricket sounds you hear on warm summer night could be heard. He could tell she
was scared by her voice tone. Her whispers were hardly audible; just enough for
him to hear as he stood close to her. He sat down finally to rest. He'd lost track of
time and hours seemed to pass in dead silence, without one flicker of light.
~*~
For Matt's "Finish The Dream" Contest
Cont'd on Pg II
feeling his vitamin injection a new adventure begins
a slapstick epic of unfathomable implication here unfolds
as the rat gnawed curtain rises at Ye Bone and Gristle
among the clattering of wooden pints of bitter ale
the floor show a fatigued and spent collegiate symposium
a haggard attempt at ecumenical largess aimed at
raising the unwashed to an occasional and transient grasp
of the larger dimensions that haunt our daily addictions
Prof. Zlotto emeritus deluxe brooded over his maps
summoned by the tedious self-appointed constabulary
to pry somewhat delicately into a mystifying case
of good judgment deferred with a view towards
an increase in immediate cash flow revenues
wagers placed on foul play or the whim of ill fortune
were the options undergoing fuddled prehension
we have before us opined Z expansively from center stage
an antebellumite absolutist abandoned by fortune
skirting the Queen's tariff crushed white and cold
by a bulging bale of contraband Carolina cotton
observe the eyes fully crossed the smirking grimace
while grasping a message in a mangled scrap of menu
none of the Bone and Gristle's brain trust could
tease rhyme nor reason from its random hatchings
Sumerian birdclaw temple cypher went our Professor
fragments from the time of the Great Watery Peril
the gathered lumpenproletariat gasped and murmured
Zlotto's flawless command of forgotten history
was the object of awe and an untidy fealty
my appraisal shall go no further than this room
insisted Zlotto drawing his finger across his windpipe
aye wheezed the unsteady avid archivists of civilization
the hearth's peat flames glinted off Z's gold tooth smile
a million dollar asset with the neighborhood gorgons
fluttering hearts batting about the succulent stamen
Z pondered aloud over the runes inscribed in red ichor
my certainty was never under hazard went Zlotto
what we have here beneath the lantern of exposition
is a blighted invocation of the Blind Mother of Witches
the tenured and tweedy astigmatics drew breath as one
a petition of supplication borne on ancient trade winds
Zlotto's hard gaze scanned the struck dumb congregation
It says only this
as one body the throng leans a full inch closer
only this
fill in your blanks
Remember me well ....and remember my God.
The stay of my soul was the strength of His Word.
The Heathen, the Godless keep shouting 'Good God!! '
That's not blaspheming; that's praising the Lord.
How often I've heard them - they cry out ...'Thank God!! '.
If only they knew - they're now saved from The Sword.
My unflinching faith, shows a Marvellous God.
I truly am blessed by His Staff and His Rod.
And though you have seen that I spread the Good Word.
I rejoiced as they scoffed, and my spirit high soared.
For a man that saves souls, this surely seems odd.
But the Scriptures don't lie!!! ... men will forsake God!
So I marvel at God; how He fashioned Creation
He furnished a globe with no form or foundation.
The balance of nature in a six-day construction!?
I marvel indeed; That's from 'odd' to 'perfection'!
I marvel at God for His Gift to each Nation.
Despite our weakness to the evil Seduction
He sent us His Son, who granted Salvation.
I marvel indeed; Here's an 'Ode To Perfection'!
I marvel at God that He gave us 'decision'
Some call it 'free will', no God-intervention.
Few have the wisdom to choose the God-option.
I marvel indeed; must be 'owed to perfection'!
I marvel at God for the Worded Prediction.
Within this Good Book lies the Sacred Solution.
But many still doubt and lack predilection???
I marvel indeed; ......I am 'awed to perfection'!!!
So remember my God and remember The Lord.
Agnostics and Atheists you're welcome aboard.
We broke the First Rule and severed The Cord...
Which bound us to Nature - and also to God.
We purchased a God-wrath we could not afford.
Now suffering and pain in abundance is stored.
Why do you lay blame at the Feet of my God?
The fault was all yours, and your judgement was flawed.
You did not heed warning as you gnawed at that gourd.
You craved for more knowledge - instructions ignored.
That serpent was wily but did not defraud,
We did not drop dead ...but we'll die! That's assured!!
We ate of that Fruit - and now we're like 'god'!
That 'knowledge of evil'? .....our dreaded reward!
in a morning swim the beaver made his route
out early and then had a breakfast to boot
after which he worked on his abode
by floating logs to help ease the load
tree by tree he fell them just so
they would end up all in a row
worked long hours all by himself
was in top shape and had good health
he was an eager beaver to get things right
all of the wood was snug and tight
no tools, no nails, he knew his trade
no one could say it was only man made
it was starting to rain but he was done
his cabin was finished under the sun
he heard some men say they’ll be a flood
then he thought his home would be mud.
US Army of engineers came to save the land
brought in machinery and loads of sand
they built a dam with lots of concrete
they could not afford to have it leak.
the beaver watch them every day and grinned
he knew that it wouldn’t hold, it was too thin
he called in his fellows to build a levee
we need to make it wider not heavy.
the dam had cracked and the water poured in
all men scrambled before getting in a spin
the town folk were alerted and left in a hurry
all the beavers remained during the flurry.
they flapped their tails and made loud whacks
like sounding the drums to call in more packs
in groups of ten they worked the line
tied ropes to pull timber getting it to align
some gnawed logs and brought to the river
others on the banks assisting to deliver,
they swam with the logs, to avoid a jam
they stacked them up evenly to build this dam
more joined the brigade to get it in shape
they just knew no water would escape
the chief beaver thanked his regiment
I’m damn proud of you, the town is now content.
when the town folk came back they gasped in amaze
who had built this put them in a daze
A raven from a tree limb said I saw the whole making
but I will tell you it was astounding but heartbreaking
it was something to see and it all happened so fast
building a dam is not a thing of the past
I can tell you the story but I won’t let it out
will just say ‘leave it to beaver’ and that’s no doubt
I wait for the words to burn within me, like flames licking the edges of paper,
To erupt from the depths of my stomach, raw, gnawed by bones,
To make me lose nights, turning in the darkness,
Tangled in my own thoughts, like in a net of broken dreams.
I do not write if I do not open up, if I do not bleed onto the page until my hands tremble,
I do not write just to impress a girl, not for a beautifully wrapped but empty gift,
Not for applause, not for approval, not for the spotlight instead of the shadows.
The words must come from the place I fear to approach,
From the place that hurts to touch, like an open wound that does not heal,
I wait until they carve their way out, until they scream to be born.
Every night, like a witch enchanted by her own incantations,
Thoughts surround me, spinning like spirals of smoke,
And memories burn, like falling stars in the darkness of my mind,
I let myself be carried by their waves, lost in the tide of endless emotions.
I write only when my soul is a volcano ready to erupt,
When my heart is a forest on fire, when my blood is ink,
And every word is a spark, an explosion of light and pain,
I write only when the words tear my skin, when they make me scream.
In sleepless nights, with eyes open to an unseen sky,
I search for that hidden place within me, that place full of shadows and fears,
And I dive into its depths, into the abysses where light does not reach,
There, in the darkness, I find the words that burn me, that tear me apart.
Every letter is a part of me, every verse is an open wound,
And I write only when I can no longer endure the silence,
When words become a necessity, a call from the depths,
I write only when they scream to be born, when they can no longer be ignored.
I wait for the fire to consume me, to transform me into ashes and flames,
And only then, with trembling hands and an open soul,
I write, like wizards do, magical words that burn and heal,
I write because I cannot not write, because the fire within me cannot be extinguished.
Ecstasy:
*an overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling.
* slang 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine; MDMA: a powerful drug that acts as a stimulant and can produce hallucinations
Some time after midnight, a change in the noise
The bitter white pill cleaves the men from the boys
Only the most hardcore of party heads gather
So hungry to fly without sprouting a feather
My clammy hand trembles then moves to my lips
I swallow it down, I wait to lose grip
I'm waiting for death to grip me by the throat
I wait, for you promised my body would float
My skin feels so cold I'm convinced it could crack
So why is there sweat dripping down my hot back?
My eyes scan the room, they jitter as they move
I can't find one person not feeling the groove
And why does my head seem to turn in slow motion
My brain swims around like it's lost in the ocean
The cramps in my hands, have they already died?
I throw back my head and laugh til I cry
I love this, I love it, Oh where have you been?
Who knew nights could hold such rapturous dreams
These people, once strangers, I cant comprehend
How every last person became my best friend
Red, sweating bodies, bouncing together
The DJ ensures the tunes last forever
Your face oozes steam and your jaw won't stay still
It shudders and flutters against your own will
I fight down the nausea but I'm to late
Why didn't you tell me this room can rotate?
I don't care coz I love you I LOVE YOU
who are you?
A realisation I don't even know you
So this is the comedown I heard all about
I fall back to earth with a cumbersome clout
My body feels swollen, exhausted and battered
The gnawed, raw remains of my mouth are in tatters
I felt such a big girl, had nothing to lose
Thought I'd walk for miles in my new grown up shoes
I thought I could play at your wild games too
All I've learnt is I'm still a child. Like you.
Jodie Williams for
Frank's Coming of age contest
5th Feb 2012
“It’s time,” she said in a deep throaty voice,
She picked him up and carried the preacher who had little choice,
He hung over her shoulder as she walked with ease,
Her blistering flesh when she touched him could be smelt on the breeze.
Now and then, she would let out a whimper from the pain,
However, a pain she was all too familiar with, she carried him to her ultimate gain.
She reached the old wooden building and opens the boor at the back,
The building housed the crowd as they parted once again for the man in black.
The people, stared shocked to see that he was alive,
Their mummers were as if it were bees in a beehive.
Then a man shouted, “His supposed to be dead, ho can this be?”
She lashed out slicing his neck, and he dropped like a freshly felled tree.
The crowd stirred into a panic and tried to smash down the door,
But, there was a powerful presence locked them in for the long awaited gore.
When their efforts of escape were fruitless, they turned to face the girl
Who’s flesh bubbled, and the stench caused many to hurl.
She dropped the preached on the elevated stage,
And clawed at her burning dead flesh like an animal enraged.
She shouted angrily in a deep throaty voice, “Who is in charge?”
A man walked toward the front, seven foot tall, muscular and large.
She flew through the air and gave him a talon embrace,
As she stuck a finger nails in his neck and gnawed off his face.
The crowd screamed some came to his aid,
But eight died too in her deadly crusade.
She walked slowly back to the front stage,
“Who is in charge?” she screeched ever more so enraged.
She fell on her back and wriggled, screaming in pain,
Her body split in four forming creatures hideously insane.
The merciless creatures hungry and wild ,
Pared not a soul skinning man woman or child.
They left them skinless but alive, to slowly die a gruesome death,
Then squelched through the blood cover floor toward the preacher who was next.