Suicide Riddle Poems

This land of entitlement 
entertainment and enterprise 
lost burnt broken...despised 
skeletal structures reaching 
griping 
clutching 
scraping this infernal sky!

Arcane factories sit on horizons 
haunted like...

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HOLY IS THE NEW FLESH

burning the rights of an ancient Sacrifice 
by ancestors holy and profane 
the offerings of an Intellectual ape 
hairless and Afraid...

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A chrome gun glittering 
in the hot sun raise, rays radiating 
like a heliographic rainbow,
drawn from shimmering halos 
of inferno light, hot.

White smoke from a...

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Drinking in ink
Black of raven eyes
I spy a Stars demise
Racing to Razor edge of reality
Somethings are lost in my gloom
The burn of sulfur looms
Their coming...

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Divinities of stone 
Humanity of bone
Legions march in time 
to glossy cracked clocks. 
Black Boots step to the metronome. 
Before them dark skies become…
Into it...

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WINTERS HOUSE 
Black, bare in despair 
alone to nowhere 
On a corner crossroads to everywhere
Sits a house half-forgotten 
a house full of itself and memories
Dark...

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With Blades
I have drawn 
In my restless sleep
I linger in the past
Were my souls 
Dry husks of horrors
Are cast
Each one an image in time
The dead...

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In halls of idol wind
Ribbons of rain
Ribbons of pain
Ribbons of the insane
Flying down the avenues 
Hands clutching the wheel
Eyes blur as my mind swims…
of my...

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Raising up an old book                    ...

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A Wooden Riddle

I walk through walls, 
but I'm not dead. 
(as they are unfinished) 
I try to keep the plans, 
locked in my head. 
From...

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couple on a motor
cycle with a death wish
drum drops
still pond
early morning
coolness broken

pull that poison, pull it deeply
deeply, deeply
pull it deeply
keep that breath, like memory bitter
sweetly...

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Unshakeable groggy state
plagues mein kampf
impossible mission to awaken
this comatose zombie
drugged horror - by potent

self manufactured narcotic -
oppressive tantalizing
nightmares indistinguishable
when supposedly conscious,
eyes cannot differentiate

dusky "reality" from
twilit...

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Villanelle: How many the men gone had something yet to say

How many the men gone had something yet to say
Had they not thought found they...

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