A fallow season, a time of trivial hungers.
Scissoring illuminations sheared his eyes.
Petulant lips pursed.
He laid himself down, yet again
covered himself over with a bone deep hurt.
Light cut and snipped
at the tangled hairs of a grey despair,
it swung him open
until a self-interned corpse flickered awake
in the pale eyes of cave bats
No longer were stone angel's graveyard attendants,
the world unboxed itself, he had been doornail dead,
now a gateway swung wide.
Was this life, or was this death by light?
Snails had left silver poems
on that part of his mind, he had yet to find,
yet it was near enough to dream of.
Categories:
scissoring, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The buzzes I hear coming from next door
Cause this old man's blood pressure to soar
After they waited seventeen long years
Time for the summer cicadas is here
Shrill chirping voices do not bring me cheer
Loud scissoring buzzing makes me crazy
Searching for love, they sure are not lazy
By midday I am completely exhausted
My brain is befuddled, think it's all hazy,
Next time, I won't be here to be accosted.
written June 13, 2021
Categories:
scissoring, humorous, insect, sound,
Form: Light Verse
It was a righteous hit and the silky smooth euphoric familiar feeling was racing through her veins to her encephalon.
It was an energetic stimulation to her central nervous system.
Her whole body fell back onto the foul-smelling and heavily stained mattress.
Her mind slumped into oblivion.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
The last thing she remembers seeing was a vivid shadow.
A shadow of a housefly on the ceiling.
It appeared to be eating something.
Through a purple haze, she wonders about the filthy creature.
In nonsensical supposition, she could feel the beastly fly attack.
Scissoring meticulously against the flesh of her forehead.
Scissoring against the hard connective tissue of her skull.
Systematically and relentlessly thrusting its cutting blades.
Regurgitating its vile acid fluid onto the soft tissue of her cerebrum.
Imaginable pain and reverberation of the piercing sound were consistent.
And then, the morning light faded.
She saw luminous colors of red, yellow, and different shades of blue, like cyan and turquoise.
She felt her body floating around in a large kaleidoscope.
copyright 2016 Torsional Storm
Categories:
scissoring, addiction,
Form: Narrative
A fallow season,
a time of trivial hungers,
but also a term put away
within a stone breaking age.
It was a Wednesday,
a day with sorrow sewn into it
like a prison blanket.
Nevertheless, a scissoring sunlight
sheared his eyes open.
Petulant lips pursed
with a jejune ire.
He had laid himself down
dug himself earthward
covered himself over
with a bone deep hurt.
He thought:
must I be exhumed by this light?
This will be the death of me
once more.
Even then he was unlocked.
Light cut and snapped
the tangled hairs
of his grey despair,
swung him open
while a vaporous corpse
tumbled out.
No longer was the sun
a graveyard attendant
but a door,
and at its entrance
a corroded skeleton crumbled
into another pit
of death by light.
Categories:
scissoring, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Moms beat their children half to death
For scissoring up their best white sheets
Cutting out two holes for eyes
Ghosts don't really look like that
Damaged linens is the Outer Limits
Is Addams Family crazy beyond the pale
Whiter than white turned gray
Thank you Thing!
Give Cousin Itt a comb for all that hair
To see through this vale of tears and darkness
Hand him a brush with death
A hand sandwich with mustard on it
Hand him a knife to cut through clouds
Gray beyond the pale
Beyond white sheets with holes cut in them
Blowing in the wind with ghosts still in them
Categories:
scissoring, appreciation, children, conflict, crazy,
Form: Free verse
Scissoring winds avenge her earthborn savagery
Branches recovering my instinct to climb,
Light penetrating my childhood woodland awe,
Crowned with delicate arcs
I spread my love of wooded substance
Praising horizons of silhouetted dawns
Rising above morning mists broad and firm,
Twisted and benevolent, cathedrals connected
Manifested in infinite complexion.
Rooted networks of wordless communication
I worshipped the earth reigning in her mythical glory
My soul born of her womb and wedded to her effigy.
She watching over communities of species, adorning dwellings,
Inhaling she collectively sighs at our detached human forms
Observing, indulging the naivety of our sobriety,
Chopping at her elementary heart.
As seasonal leaves come and go, she grows
Whilst various flavoured versions, us a people
Our blood stains the earth her roots would drink
Before our timely capacity to flourish
As rich narratives evoking ancient stories
Of fermented lives born out of the sun’s burdens
Upon etched chasms of a dark moon’s texture
In trunks of gnarly un-pliable fixtures, there we hang
Stories of our unsolicited lives upon her sacred boughs.
Categories:
scissoring, tree,
Form: Free verse
I looked in the window and what did I see? Huma was scissoring with Hillary.
My, oh my, what some hairy thighs. These beasts were coming right before my eyes.
There titties were a handful and sagged to their knees.
For some degenerate libtards they were sure to please.
It wasn't really so, but it seemed to be. Huma was scissoring with Hillary.
I looked once again and to my disbelief, Hillary was Scissoring with Meryl Streep
I fought back the gag as Meryls tongue went deep. You just cant unsee that, I may never again sleep.
Their escapade was disgraceful as they squirted like sleeze. Their hemmoraging vaginas smelled like dirty sock cheese.
It wasn't really so but it seemed to be Hillary was scissoring with Meryl Streep.
I looked in the window and what did I see?
Rosie was scissoring with Hillary.
My oh my what gigantic thighs Hillary had vanished right before my eyes.
Rosies vagina had engulfed her and half of the sheets. Rosie left a snail trail as she walked down the street
This time it really is so, at least it seems to be,
this nightmare is over with Hillary.
Categories:
scissoring, corruption, crazy, funny love,
Form: Free verse
I can see myself falling,
Falling from the peak of the mountain right in front of me.
I reach out to myself,
Reach out to catch myself but my palm isn't big enough to cushion my fall.
I'm witnessing my own death,
Witnessing my own death, and there's nothing I can do about it.
It's an endless cycle,
An endless cycle that sucks the life out of me with the Reaper's own fangs.
Each time my body slams against the ground I can see the pain in my own eyes,
The pain in my own eyes that nobody else knows enough to see.
Every fatal fall dims the light in my soul little by little,
Little by little until there's nothing but darkness in this world for me.
As I slip down between my own scissoring fingers, my own skin cuts sores into my body,
My body that doesn't even feel like my own anymore.
I could probably catch myself if I wanted to, But do I want to?
Categories:
scissoring, depression,
Form: Free verse
Scissoring branches cut ribbons of wind
As the wall of the distant dawn
Paints itself gold
A few fugitive leaves scurry away
While their fellows cling to the bough
And whisper papery lament
Fingers of frost cake the roots beneath
And trapped in the stiff ground
Lonely seeds await
Cold and steady beneath heated hues
Of the hands and veins of the fallen
Succor to the next season
The new sun's bright yawning shout
Makes the ice on pond sweat
The hoar turns to dew
The knowing seed, the patient seed
Puny seed nestles in the earth
Its parent droops its cracked nudity
At last spry green tendrils peek
To read the eyeless braille of spring
Out of softened soil
Immortal soil, rotten soil
The life-giving rot
The rot giving life
Categories:
scissoring, autumn, earth, life, nature,
Form: Free verse
You are sad, ill-suited to the late autumn sun
Resting in a light blue sun as wisps of cloud
Are blown gently along, only just moving.
Wanting to reach out and touch you,
But afraid I will only make things worse -
A speciality of mine I think, even managing
To mar the beautiful afternoon with words
Words repeated too often, words
Hollow and empty like the cracked acorns
Which I tread on, feeling them through my shoes
Selfishly destroying nature
Typically selfish...this started off about you
And ends with you standing by the wooden gate
Looking. Watching. Searching?
Trying to seek out something in the warped form
Stood before you,
Crumpled and cracked like the acorns
Which the dog clamps merrily between her teeth
White and smiling, unaware,
Jaws scissoring around the tough outer
In the hope of finding something better
Inside.
Categories:
scissoring, animals, family, hope, autumn,
Form: Verse