Murk Poems | Examples

Ghoulish Gear

Gears to grind, grey grimace?
O ghoulish, gold to get?
Turtle, beneath carapace!
He who sleeps forgets!

The champion of the city?
A far off challenger?
This may not - Well, pity.
O for thee, sound! Sad? Sure...

Soul in care of, portal?
A sword will sort it out?
Heart blood, pump! Pour, poor pill!
Ravine rill runs the rout!

Fire-god, in a stern tall forge.
What there will we see?
Abyssal the chasm gorge!
Flickering flock, thy fee!

Guns atop the atoll?
This strategy worked when?
Downward plunge into thy hole!
O dragon, doom! Death! Den...

Rack of lamb for dinner?
Thy supper's sorely got.
O vampire, vine! The winner?
It couldn't be thee, thought.

Cold thy core, O bonfire?
It never seems to get.
Heaven and Hell, murk and mire!
Pinned down, O my pet!

AGM

Tomorrow is the day – the day I dread.
The first of March.  Declare the dividend.
I hate a scene but I, by nature’s quirk,
endure the drama, seated on the stage.

I never met a shareholder who said
‘I know you are the CEO. My friend,
we really do appreciate your work.’
Hostility is not so hard to gauge.

Today’s the day it all comes to a head.
A thousand profit-sniffers will attend.
Their eyes will flay me, glaring from the murk,
and though I do my damnedest to assuage

the fury, ‘carbon footprint’s tread’ –
it will not help me.  Why do I pretend?
They want more money.  Explanations irk.
Their unearned income is the war they wage.

Their eyes and exit signs pulsating red,
No Confidence the motion that they’ve penned,
malicious in the darkness where they lurk,
creators (or the symbols?) of our age.

Polaris

Before the void happened to me,
you happened, or more precisely your voice
came across oceans
—Fate was feeling kind that day, I imagine,
			with your voice she weaved
			a lifeline, pulled me back
			across black water—

You happened, and the void,
while still there, doesn’t pull anymore.
The murk can no longer devour
when you are twilight, a
soft-lit haven against nihility.
In the lone, moonless night, a polaris—

I reach out with both arms
and no passage plan
			—You’d take my hands, wouldn’t you?

			Before the void took mine,
			I found you.

I Don't Remember This Episode

“Don’t go there – steer away from it!” he said.
“You’ll turn your gaze away (that’s if you’re wise).
The black hole on the screen you’ve got your eyes on,
which seems appealing, floating in the murk,
confers no blessing. Love is just a curse.
Enticing, yes – but when push comes to shove,

the only day you’re free is when you’re dead.”
The bridge fell silent. Starship Enterprise
was stalled outside the thing’s event horizon.
The science officer asked, “Captain Kirk,
why are you singularity-averse?”
“Unlike yourself, Spock, I have been in love.”

Giving in

I wrote something a while ago
I was mad that you were back
But now I feel myself letting go
It's all numb and the anger I lack

I am giving in to you again
Hold my writes out
And let you tie them
"Why can't you just figure this out"

The thought sparks in my head
And stabs through my heart
The glass shatters and all I see is red
"You can never just face the bad part"

Always need someone to carry you
Never strong enough to just make it through

Weak broken and alone
That's all you will ever be
You beg them so an ear they will loan
You are a burden and add to a load heavy already

I always go back to you
Because it's easier than doing the real 'work'
The idea tempts and I go through
You clouded my thoughts with your senseless murk

Fade

Fade into the void,
pale and unseen,
a whisper of silence,
dim murmured echo.

Unheard and unremarked,
an absent fragment,
of drifting haze,
that lingers unseen.

Fragile, easily shattered,
weightless and distant,
an obscure hollow,
of faint gray dust.

Blurred empty thought,
foggy and fractured,
like an unfelt sigh,
flickering invisible in the murk.

O veiled shadow
of former self,
ashen phantom
of better days,

am I but a fleeting shade,
doomed by fate
to wilt and wane,
and fray at the edges,

to shiver and wilt,
until vanishing,
simply disappear?

Not even a glimmer
of self remains.

Stench

Dark red, luscious apples felled from her own tree long ago
Under the beaming sun plummeted with a soft, aching blow

The sweat drips and plops, scruple over a furrowed brow
Upon the discovery of rot that blackened her plow

“Has the wind gone mad–or am I the one insane?
Dirt and grime, high dry–surely the only way to explain”

Denial among hatred, she could not face–but under the murk, bits
Beneath, the snakes–surly and shabby—placed high their bids

The heat danced faster as the days passed far less paced
Her blonde hair bleached and pruned, but left one space

The temple on her right seemed blank and bruised
As a failed blow far too long past was nearly used

The magazine fell as she begins filtering the rot past her mind
She screams, shouts, yelps and cries, sobs of an animal forgotten by time

“I never meant for this to go–go and blow up like this!
I never meant. . . I never meant for me to hurt our kids.”

Too far from gone she was, behind silken white bars and drenched in ammonia
“I know, my love, but I must leave and forget you—may heaven forbid us, Aurora”

I Got In Trouble With The Maid

I was seven, barefoot in the hallway,
nose pressed to the brass knob of the guest room—
she’d left the key out,
but I wanted to see through,
the way you want to see the belly of a piano,
strings naked, all hammer and throat.

The maid caught me,
her voice full of linen snaps and starch—
What are you doing, Miss?
I lied. Said I was looking for the cat.
There was no cat.
Only the shimmer of her hair under her cap,
and the broken goldfish bowl of my curiosity,
spilled on the carpet of my chest.

That night the sky turned dark like a locked door.
I thought about the keyhole,
how it had looked back at me.
How secrets sit still like fish
in the murk of people’s lives,
waiting for someone small and stupid
to come tap the glass.
And I,
with my hollow hands and soft mouth,
wanted only to know
what lived behind things.

Samsara - May 7

Now quiet, settled, easy, leisurely
through life’s affairs,—say, couched in everyday—
and sipping being’s sweetest, freshest ray;
Sunshine!, Sunshine! ‘midst winter’s coldest glee! 

Now troubled, disjointed, uneasily
fumbling, scrambling through dumb frowning time.—Gray-
-haired night’s murk weighs down gay light’s mirth filled play...—
tumbling through summer’s scorching cruelty!

An inescapable alternation
of gloom and cheer,(to be—and—not to be),
wheeling circles and cycles—infernal,—
recur, relapse, return through all creation.;
Remember, though pain’s but temporary,
vacuous suffering is eternal.

Testament - Feb 21

If unexpectedly I were to die, 
then this at least is here for all to see -
something of mine, a collection of what was I;
to survive the flesh, what could beat poetry?

Hubris begs me "Don't leave this world unknown!"
In secret I agree, but as for pride,
it tugs my sleeve and beckons with a groan,
"Are you worthy of such a haughty stride?" 

Thus, I compromise, only my best work 
will here be shown. The rest I’ll bring along,
gravebound for that eternal gloomy murk
beyond the mortal, to the ghastly throng. 

Alas, the end is nigh, the poem closes,
I only ask my tomb be strewn with roses.

Some Where - Apr 12

Toppled by a bottle, collapsed upon
her painful past, asleep—but well awake!—,
unmoving, but for her mind stirred aquake,
the girl is yawning before her black dawn.

Alone, couched by a burning blanket drawn
over a conscience guilty at the stake,
slipping into the sly hands of the snake,
she sees not clearly the sickening con

which lures her slowly to her deathly state.
Unknowingly, she’s dozing, edging deeper
into the dreamrealm, into the hazy
murk of the promised land. 
					Her name was Daisy—
until, unexpected, said the reaper,
“Poor thing… if only you could now change fate.”

Thinking about Nevermind!

Thinking about Nevermind!

Skinny dipping soaked in bleach, albino by design 
Eyes burning, -Something in the way- future gives a sign
No pacifier needed, when remuneration’s on the line 
Keep calm it’s just rehearsal, will sink lower another time 

Born too soon, umbilical’s frayed by a toothless bite
Lure instills urge to swim, bypassing baptismal rite
-Come as you are- take a breath, be sure to stay airtight 
Nevermind the grunge, it’s less dirty with a soul of white

Zero in on bait, the watermark hides a sell by date
Perhaps-stay away- not much change at going rate 
Don’t lose sight of legal tender, it won’t always sate
Take a breather, rest assured, if lungs don’t reinflate 

Swimming in circles chasing what is never truly ours
Set in ripples, a reflection of mankind’s weakest hour ?
The dollar breaks, revealing depths we’ve yet to scour
In the murk, no god we trust, just a bill we all empower

Television News Reporter

Cinnabar remittance ailerons squall federal cobblestones. Lank alpine squint modest. Nectarine grimace, cloys toothsome.
Coiffure chain rod composure anemic, primogeniture Swedish cotton murk optics

Rodeo riding maiden broadcaster network metaverse falconry. Boreal voyages legalese.
Simper treacle blanched anecdotally. Goofy balm, beardless tease, healthy as a horse, real bee knees.

Scatter Brain

 Scatterbrain, I refrain from learning, yearn for better days.
 But alas, I feel dumb and dull, like unused clay.
Refusing to mould into something you desire.
If only you knew the struggle I bear, all you do is point and stare, I do declare that this worlds just unfair.
With each shame and blame, I regress in my fight.
With each shame and blame, I regress in my murk filled mind.
 Just a dark grey cloud debating aloud in the night.
 I scratch and I claw, amidst living yet dead.
 Fearing the glares that leave me filled with dread.
 Pointing and poking, awaiting for my fall.
 Hoping i bow out in disgrace to it all.
 My inner demons whisper cruel, careless words.
 Berating my spirit, leaving me unheard.
 Yet here I lie awake, seeking a break, from this scatter brain maze that 
       makes my heat ache.
 Searching for peace in the chaos I've spun.
 Yearning for light, for the battle to be won.

Eternal Verge

ravens croak
      applauding twilight	
larks churr
    saluting sunrise
		
a last dance over
an inverted verge.

a perpetual encounter
    the last mesh of murk
         against gleams of glow

held in abeyance,
    opposites wrangling
         like birth and demise
asking intricate questions
     preserve or discharge
          uncertain anxieties

ravens claim temporal flesh,
     their ravenousness relished,
dominant despotism
                     it seems.

yet our lark’s song resonates
                    stirring our species
influencing our intimate impressions,
     channelling subconsciously 
          our choice
               around that inverted verge 

        eternally guarding us

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