Long Maliciously Poems
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...Even worse as his youngest grew bigger
he noticed things that had him quite alarmed,
the kid had blue eyes, Whitney’s had been brown,
his were brown too, he could not understand,
his facial features were not like Jerry’s,
he felt things he did not want to believe.
Jerry ignored it as long as he could,
but that dark thoughts just kept building in his head,
not long after his youngest had turned five,
to a doctor the young child was lead,
“Just for a check-up,”Jerry told the lad,
hoping against hopes the results weren’t bad.
But when it came back several weeks later
it became clear the youngest wasn’t his,
he knew that it must be Alan Price,
what other man would Whitney have lain with?
He told not the kid, that would be a crime,
but inside resentment burning in his mind.
He raged at his wife for betraying him,
and Alan Price for destroying a home,
raged at the universe for taking them,
the objects of his vengeance now were gone,
like his wife before, he stared to drink,
and as time went on even more did think.
He’d known of his wife divorcing Alan
back before they had gotten together,
thinking from her place, seeing it all a hoax,
helped him too see the thing all the better,
to be torn between two loves, both alive,
he could see the confusion born inside.
And thinking of Alan, smeared as he was,
feeling so desperate he’d take his own life,
had Jerry been there, and feeling like that,
would he turn down a moment that felt right?
When half the world thought you guilty of rape…
all based on a lie, ruined by such hate…
But understanding only goes so far,
and Jerry needed an object for rage,
this started with a false accusation,
that Jesse Malinche maliciously made,
had that lying not started this all
then none of them would’ve faced such a fall.
Jerry had never been a big gun guy,
in fact most would’ve called him bleeding heart,
but one day he walked into a gun store,
he had no record, or crime he’d had no part,
so there was no reason to stop the sale,
no reason to suspect that he would assail.
That night gunshots were heard at Jesse’s house,
the police came, saw him on the front step,
mumbling madly, his mind clearly gone,
his hands with blood were stained red, and quite wet.
They took him away, found Jesse inside,
dead in her bedroom, with glazed, waxy eyes…
CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
It’s Christmas Eve; there’s someone at my door!
But with the horrid sound outside my window,
I wonder who is knocking and what for!
Midst violent wind I see a surreal snow!
Within it’s haze, there is a grotesque sight -
gigantic and so out of place, I quiver!
A snowman leers at me, and frigid fright
goes through my bloodstream like an icy river.
Again, the knock! Whoever could it be?
This morning I wished Christmas would be gone!
A premonition now is telling me
that nothing good is out there on my lawn.
My friend had warned me that I really ought
not curse this season. Oh, what have I done?
More pounding at the door, but I cannot
go near that door; there’s nowhere I can run.
I look out at the snowman. He is more
enormous than a tree, and now I hear
a sound like laughing elves outside the door.
I stand as thought I’m paralyzed by fear.
That movie! There’s a movie I heard of.
A boy hates Christmas, wishing it away.
A storm brews suddenly in skies above,
heralding a deadly Christmas day.
A Shadow Santa comes. This wicked soul
is known as Krampus, and he brings with him
an evil that can swallow people whole.
If I have summoned him, my fate is grim.
The storm keeps wailing; now there’s a new sound
of scratching on my roof, but there is no
more knocking. Oh, who’s walking all around
my roof? I run out to the blinding snow!
At first I can see nothing till my eyes
are drawn to where a great big bag was put
beside my door. What’s this? More Santa lies?
Though filled with dread, I push it with my foot.
There jumps out from the bag the strangest thing -
A tiny man; he’s made of gingerbread!
He laughs maliciously, and starts to sing,
“Before the night is over, you’ll be dead.”
Out on my lawn, I see beneath the snow
there’s something creeping fast and right toward me!
What creature slithers underneath the snow?
I can’t escape, so back inside I go!
I shut the door and bolt it, then collapse
Upon my sofa near the fireplace, when
I hear an eerie sound above. It taps,
taps, taps. It’s something on the roof again!
Past Christmases with family go through
my frantic mind; I cower there and wait.
It’s Krampus, and he’s up there in the flue,
and soon to be delivering my fate!
Written Dec. 24, 2015/ Inspired by the contest of TAMMY REAMS
and the current Christmas horror movie Krampus.
Suicidal Ideation March 30th, 2022 linkedin...
to mein kampf insync with mine body dysmorphia
After reading articles
published within April 4/11 2022
of The Nation
I challenged the efficacy
taking prescription medication
categorized as SSRIs
and/or SNRIs.
Unpleasant side effects
such as earth shaking dreams
and/or especially hefty weight gain
linkedin with former
comprising my daily cocktail
of approved prescription medication
courtesy nurse practitioner.
Deliberation about courting death rooted
throughout mine psyche
fueling sinister chortle
at least since bout with anorexia nervosa,
but... maybe ginned blood,
sans umbilical cord transfused in utero aortal,
though long since recovered, the intractable,
haunting specter, sans grim reaper
intertwining within every fiber of this mortal
rooted, grounded deep, and branched out
into each nook and cranny portal.
Said notion provoked,
when made painfully aware
youngest daughter (aged twenty three)
plagued with similar thoughts,
damn genetics did maliciously engineer
clutching telephone while
seated at edge of chair
did apologetically, despairingly,
grievously... did air
pestilential, penitential, plenipotential... scare
re: distraction and understandable fear,
she might unwittingly plunge
into hopeless abysmal despair
falling prey into irrevocable
deathly hallows lair,
though kudos for her
from me, this sole Harris heir
to communicate, (albeit
hesitantly) into mine ear
suddenly wishing thy
Shayna Punim to be near,
but residing (about three hour drive
southeast of Portland, Oregon)
with my kid sister, attentive to welfare,
a sibling whose persona
doth show tender loving care
and concern, this papa
felt reassured there
would be every action taken
with sixth sense to beware
lest progeny exhibits
pointedly obvious lurching career
dramatic slide in tandem
with Old Rotten Gotham
into behavioral sink
emergency measures sibling
immediately would commandeer,
hence somewhat relieved thee dear
beloved progeny receptive to hear,
this dada expressed his unconditional love,
and grateful psychological intervention
offspring boldly did declare
indicative professional help volunteer
really asserted necessary to stave off
how dice throw of fate unfair
to said lass, whose demise,
would abruptly kill this sonneteer!
Had a moment to collect the tickets
Punching out the timecard to the apocalypse
A striptease stripper with syntax and enjambment
Graphic designer's valviloculus pleristaminis in an ordinary garden
Many try to pluck me as a weed
Aforetime rose from a park of simplicity
Frozen in a piece of sap, timeless; the shears remain
Closing their fists to pump in the air polluted with rabble
Always aiming fingertips at me
They never hear the caoineadh at the end of the block
Now I sit attentive, straight because I want to, and middle fingers up
Voice echoes that silences their babble
"All that power, and you aim it at the one helping others"
Shift in their stature but rictus in their feature
Unlike most times my voice is softest
"I've watched you let something beautiful die for the hue
Our ténèbres shade on the petals flew
Now it is alabaster, what say you?"
A murmuring mobster-made man moved maliciously
"You write horror that terrifies people
We don't want to be afraid anymore"
My feet slid on that cobblestone sidewalk towards him
"Then use your gifts as a weapon like you did in this moment
Why do you think you're afraid of my writing?"
The wind picked up speed and the sky became nightmarish
Rain poured in tidal waves, a bloodbath
"You killed poetry... and I'll never let you all forget that
You're afraid of failure... can still do something to save literature"
He shook his head side/side slowly
"We choose empathy"
"... well I choose Hurricanes"
Lightning in violet flowers above
One by one mechanical snakes slithering up, anacondas
Any that approached me were met with plasma
For a moment me that man and I made eye contact
Before he was wrapped, slowly squeezing out every word
Then swallowed whole and absorbed as data
Serpents hiss dial-up before leaving/leaving behind entrails
What was left for ourselves, for our children's children?
Pandora, I'm sorry, it can't be closed, hope is tainted
It keeps rising, waist, chest, neck, sanguinary baptism
My thoughts as the taste of iron kisses my lips
Was there anything but darkness, where is the light?
... It never existed, a myth that never came true
... I'll die knowing I did what I could, my hand remains unethical
"Astramentous inkling in a crystal bowl"
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
In air of awe,
...I write the pain of my heart,
each beat of tumult,
each throb of incite,
...which merges with my tears
in release of woe.
A cry of tragedy unheard,
...the final words of a dying bird
with clipped wings
called sanity.
For far off people, never met,
I have wept,
...enough tears to fill a desert,
a trillion tears a scattered
as ink on paper,
by my pen.
I co-mingle my tears,
our tears join hands in the river
...as the time's stream grows thinner
their tears and mine,
become the ink
...and our pain becomes paper,
hereafter.
What fool sees war as sanity?
Murder as rationality,
children's tears become a game.
A sadist's game.
What fool made up these reasons?
humanity's treasons,
...against their own,
where profit is life
and life is for sale.
A sadist's game.
Where the innocent are killed,
...the field of dreams without remorse
where the psychotic mind becomes reality
...and there is no sanity in which to hide.
We go with the tide,
we go with the moon,
the sands of the desert
are like the hourglass,
manifest
...and red sand replenishes
the white,
in endless cycles
-where justice ceases
...and the pain shall never heal.
Yet there is still,
my tears,
my heart,
the throbbing pain
...in which I feel
as someone's pain
...attacks me from afar.
I run to my desk,
...my pen is leaking ink
as if stabbed maliciously,
...I grab it and the pain increases,
someone shot me,
someone stabbed me,
ripped out my eyes,
my ears,
my heart.
My fingernails are missing,
my lungs are coughing blood,
someone killed mother,
...but who?
The pain attacks me,
it rips at me
...and I have no choice
but to write it all.
Reality is two dimensional,
a stack of realities that burst;
...and information,
emotions,
the history
...and lives of life
in general,
leak through the cracks,
for those sensitive enough
to feel them
...and inherit them.
Yet those tears shouldn't be,
...the river of time a flowing.
The paper thin reality,
in which we live,
which rips so easily
without slowing.
Those tears flow into Nature,
...and Nature's heart will break.
Because it's children are cannibals...
...and life is a sadist's game.
Form:
I lie - what wife mine’d been saying (our solidarity betraying)
Was in fact much more dismaying: “Why have you not come before?
From our lives you’ve been absented – with your coming, I’m contented.”
Would I could have this prevented: wife her mother fawning o’er,
She (my wife) that harpy-banshee-gorgon hybrid fawning o’er,
Who’d maltreated us before.
I, a welcoming tone feigning, asked her, “How long are you deigning
To be with us, oh thou, mother of the woman I adore?”
Pondering on her length of staying, (I for brevity was praying),
She gave hope to me when saying, “For a week or two – no more.”
‘Twas less than I had feared, but still to me ‘twas rather more
Than I had been hoping for.
She in first son’s room decanted (he to younger son’s supplanted –
Neither happy with their roommateship), good night bid we Lenore.
We the fortnight did long-suffer – no cohabiting was rougher,
(Wanted I betimes to snuff her) – then after ten days and four,
Make up her mind to stay with us did Lenore the Yuletide for…
Then for New Year’s Day and more.
“Wife,” said I, “Your mother’s evil! – Chase she could from Hell the devil!
Tested she’s for months our mettle, and through patience mine she wore!
Our world ere she came was placid, love life ours, once firm,’s now flaccid,
Every word she speaks is acid, and walls tremble to her snore!”
Our kids ne’er come home ‘til bedtime. Our friends visit us no more.
I’ve born much – I’ll bear no more!”
Wife with me then started pleading that her mom more time was needing,
Back-and-forth ours nowhere leading. My decision ‘bout Lenore:
“It is high time she departed.” Yelled wife, “Don’t be so cold-hearted!”
Spewed I, “Do not get me started.” Downhill went from there e’en more.
Ultimatum wife me giving: patient be with mother or
Pack your bags and find the door.
Well, Lenore (as is befitting this Poe-poem), she still is sitting
On the sofa from Ikea, choosing torture hers du jour,
Her Hadean eyes e’er seeming to maliciously be scheming.
I my family dearer deeming, did not find my way to door.
And ‘til daisies up she’s pushing or the hills is headed for,
I find peace will nevermore.
Part two (written by Jack Blackman) 0792059
Luth: I turned to gaze into my sibling's evil eyes of spite,
For fate had fallen on this forlorn night
To my delight.
I ceased my merry tune, a somber grin split wide my face,
My fangs gleamed in firelight as I stood framed
by the fireplace.
My amber eyes held his a moment
before I spoke aloud,
"I kneel to no one, I flee from none,
for I am far too proud."
I drew my broadsword and braced the steel
till blood dripped from my hand.
Then, nice and calm, I drank from my palm and said,
"I will kill you where you stand."
My brother then chuckled, hate danced in his eyes,
And he said, "You have no chance but to die!
I will slay you as I slew your flock,
and leave your intestines strewn on the rocks!"
I thought to myself, How vainly he boasts,
but surely he is a damn liar!
For I believed not that he killed my whole flock,
My beloved family of vampires.
"If you do not believe they are dead," he said,
"Then call out to them with the thoughts in your head,
and you will then see what I speak is the truth,
Use your telepathic powers to retrieve your own proof -
I killed your children and your wife, Luth."
My confidence faltered at his bold proclamation,
For my brother's mind worked by a sick fascination,
with a desire to be the last vampire,
He would maliciously murder our own grandsire.
I closed my eyes and sought with my thoughts,
To reach out to my wife's lovely mind.
I fought through the void and called out for her,
and silence was all I could find.
To my great horror, my children neither seemed to be there
or replied.
Full of righteous anger, I opened my eyes,
and tears of blood I cried.
My brother was stronger, but I was much faster,
and faster than thought, I brought his disaster;
By darting across the room at a speed
that left no seam on his neck there to bleed.
He laughed and thought himself unharmed,
but then began to cough -
when a crimson stain spread in a line at his throat,
and then his head fell off!
I stood above his corpse, eyes glowing as if twin campfires,
and in my heart I knew despair,
For I was the last vampire.
My dearest Levallan,
By now I had fully intended to be miles away,
But my weary feet forbid me from moving on,
While my even wearier heart beseeches me to stay,
By now I woefully assume that you have either completely forgotten me,
Have moved on to a more receptive lover in my absence,
Or that worst of all you are so racked with anger and grief that I'm the last person you want to see,
The possibility that you could perceive me as maliciously apathetic to you and our love devastates my conscience,
For that could be no further from the truth,
Without you I aimlessly wander in circles,
The rays of the sun appear cold and pale while the light of the stars can neither guide nor soothe,
My thoughts thrash cacophorically in my skull,
My words plaster themselves to my tongue,
And drip from my mouth like mercury,
What I am trying to convey my Levallan is that trying to live without you is like supporting yourself on a falling ladder by desperately clinging to the last rung,
Consider this letter my most desperate plea for reconciliation and my most heartfelt of apologies.
Forgive my solemn goodbye and sudden departure,
And my habitually callous nature that prevents me to write,
But you must understand that I never expected something like us to occur,
For with you I have founded neither pleasure as sweet nor bitter as goodbye,
You illuminated my world with the brilliance of your eyes and the richness of your lips,
Your silver hair shimmering in the afternoon sun,
When it cascades like liquid silk past your supple shoulders down to your graceful hips,
your spirit invigorates my body in our nights of passion,
And rejuvenates my heart with your loving morning gaze,
By your command I would traverse any world of fire and brimstone,
For you have wreathed exquisite colors into my life of grays,
And while I am further away than any bird has flown,
You have no need to seek me,
For if you only look at the ruffles in your sheets, the clothes on your floor, and the tears in your eyes,
You will find me.
-With all my love,
Solas
Life, where? Everywhere, never pulled back
Go on, live on, wildlife soars in the world,
Further, the ship swirls, sinks, vanishes.
A circular waterfall, something pulled me into the depths,
a woman pulled me to death.
The spirit of evil laughs maliciously at my life, it has swallowed me up,
Absorbed, drives my being to death, desires to kill, element,
That's why he found, saw my weakness, life awoke in her,
She woke up, she woke up, her soul afflicts my life, which has already been forgotten.
The sight of my suffering is joy for her. She knows it's the meaning of evil.
It is the essence of her inclination to harm.
Emma, change, your life will be bitter.
By the time you figure this out, I won't be alive anymore.
Please change.
I will never forget your beautiful name.
Have a secret from me, a word...
It will not be revealed.
I lay my death at your feet.
Emma, I feel bitter now, my life is slow,
Already in me, because of you, it was completely forgotten a long time ago,
Because my mournful life was forgotten, bled and suffered.
The scent of my dusk's cheerful flowers wafts far away, down from the sky, to you in farewell.
It's a pity that it happened like this. I don't want you anymore, but I loved you even without seeing you,
I wanted it, but I didn't need my love
Sickness took it from me. I didn't want it, but you're addicted.
You already know, I wrote, if there is no psychology, then you are with me,
Consign your future life to those monsters, and my past your past.
It's not our fault, it was created by psychology,
They won't even realize that they are ruining destinies.
I would like to close my lines, but there is more to come,
Given to you from the past, the present greets you from the future,
But it's too late, fate has decided me so far.
You no longer have anything to do with this, as I am writing dead from the future.
I found my country there. I'm shining a light on you from the future.
June 11, 2022