Luminous jewel,
sphere illustrious
an imminent charm,
bright glow of love enamored
morning or evening star,
nebula’s composition redefined
named of the goddess who
by she enveloped our thoughts,
quotes, desires and hopes
ambiance eternal inferior
no moons for comfort,
only soft wispy, sulfuric clouds
enshroud and protect
in her celestial dance hall
ebon silhouettes abound,
volcanic pillar’s interior
Venusian mistress
Venera, radiant planet,
orbits and swirls about
Influencer, wife, sister, mother,
always a lover all in one
gracious and graceful
epiphanl presence,
astro star, Keats "Bright Star"
forbidding essence,
she plays in another’s
intrinsic magnetic field
for she has not one of her own,
grant her repose
from the hot lava lamps
of her orb’s abode
Written By: D. Collins 12/9/25
The world has become inedible meat.
So, fowl even vultures refuse to eat.
Resevoirs of toxic streams and lakes.
Filled not by rain but words of hate.
With air that is full of unsavory scents.
Targeting those who possess melanin.
It's a putrid world in which we now live.
Lacking of love from any perspective.
The entire globe has turned rancid.
Dipped into a barrel of sulfuric acid.
We can't digest what's being served.
Or a painful death is what we deserve.
There's whispers deep in my soul
Secrets guide me through the darkest night
A hidden poetic gem shines whole
This gem calms my inner fright
There is a light dancing from my dreams
Leaving stars twinkling in my eyes
A sweet spirit within my soul beams
As the crack of dawn begins to rise
Within a poem begins to form
As hot lava bubbling
I need a chance to pen my storm
All those confused thoughts troubling
If only my whispers wouldn't leave
That molten lava in my dreams
Maybe a volcanic work I'd weave
I must write or molten lava streams
It will explode shooting into the air
Ash, steam, sulfuric acid pours
From horrible words, you I'll spare
If only I didn't have so many chores
Blight,
Growing,
Toxic seeds
Festering deep
Within cracking souls,
Shaded beneath blackthorn,
Watered by innocent's tears,
Blooming like demonic cancer,
Thriving on infinite misery,
Dissolving veils between conflicted worlds.
Faltering, earth trembling, Demi-Gods raise
The pyres of hellfire, hauntingly glow,
Among backdrops festering hate.
Eerie silhouettes reflect
A macabre ballet—
Twirl, twist, contort sin.
Sulfuric rain
Snuffing out
Hope's rays.
Blind.
When silence speaks in broken dialects, to harmonize hurt,
I ponder, would the sky unravel synonyms for serenity,
amidst piercing thunder that strikes through raining regrets~
upon flowers, swaying forsaken, to butterfly ballads?
But will oblivious eyes, roaming the blackness of selfish spheres~
where prayers are abandoned as meaningless metaphors,
ever feel the darkness we carry, when tears no longer flow in lakes with swans, to be seen?
It is in melted muteness, we reveal realness of suppressed pain,
as childhood fears scribbled as forbidden secrets~
rewind on repeat through holographic lens of life,
mirroring bloodstained fingerprints etched across linen of chastity…
So tonight, when blue moon in my mind ascends in insomniac stillness,
listen to the sulfuric sins scattered as flashbacks of an onyx rose,
as vandalized veins scream in helplessness,
awaiting a sculptured sunrise that bleeds balmy ointments for burnt blisters,
while I remain, in mists of misery, weaving prose,
to erase tattooed torment that stole starry symphonies within my soul. ..
House of cards, no agent can sell
Sulfuric regret all I smell
Laid flat with quiet violence
By one soft breath of pure silence
Building it shouldn't be so hard
The joke's on me with no discard
Loyalty my own worst penance
By one soft breath of pure silence
Was told triangles built strong things
But the most coveted are those rings
Stand them back up in defiance
By one soft breath of pure silence
Vows it seems, forgotten notion
My breath not soft, nor pure silence
Sulfuric dew sonatas, rustling in a bobby reek
Vermillion of umbra and debased conundrums
Rosemary pulp extracted from the pulpy bosom.
wilting amid the cranberry tackle
blubbering irises with a tinge of snow
Crimson lava that has solidified.
painted with the scent of murdered love
No longer a viable supplement; prohibited.
Lilith's spells were drenched in blood hype.
In crisp dears, a neolithic Pandora box shivers.
It drizzled a steely dolefulness across my core.
Written: December 12, 2022
Animal on the outside.
Slay away all the bad times.
Get down and say your goodbyes.
Pick up all my insides.
You say I have to break bread forever.
I'd rather drink blood as thin as water.
I'd rather you didn't lead me to slaughter.
You say if I don't do this I'll die a martyr.
Demon in my fantasy.
Shy away my apathy.
Hallucinate with dreams of ecstasy.
Choke and kill my empathy.
Drowning in pure raw emotion.
Breathing in hot water vapor.
Drinking from this sulfuric potion.
An opportunity once left to savor.
Candles lit to bring forth comfort.
The mood is set to change.
Wait until I see my cohort.
The moment seems kinda strange.
Creatures chasing after me.
Stabbing me in my sleep.
Awaken from this eternal slumber.
Finding out I'm the monster.
Creeping at a low speed.
Waiting for my chance.
You won't get away this time.
You don't know my plans.
Sulfuric acid
Contact lenses blinded
As my eye see it's not
Pupils dilated as my spinal cord
Begins to rot
Skeletal remains where is my brains I haven't been chopped
Gordon Ramsay reminds me what's all the fussing and yelling about
Is it problematic would it be ever so this plan on it Disciplinarian
Vegetarian
and where are the way ward zombies
They want to kill and eat me this is the apocalypse
Where's my face and who stole my lips
Nevermore ravished
I can no longer kiss
Cannibal common human toast remains
zombies eating every part of me even my brains
This is the death
My last breath
The Horror Story
It's so boring
And gory I travail
I relish
I am just
Decayed flesh
Served on top-of a hay stack
Where is the ketchup in the mustard
Shed no grief for me
They dun are my feet
Make it so squiggly Wiggly screaming" where's the beef"
4/26/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
Empty bottles scattered across the linoleum floor
Just like the futile coke bags floating in your toilet bowl
Both still congested with the lost memories that occurred last night
Blacking out under the twilight
Stars crashing down on the rooftop
Where elitists stare unoriginal
Doesn’t bother me much
I’ll try and find their stash and share it with worthy list souls
Sh*tty party on repeat
Cliques tapping their feet simultaneously
Soaking in the sulfuric summer heat
Drinking and grinding your teeth
I wouldn’t trade any of these moments
Trying to remember what shoes I wore
What f*cking hat she had on
I want bottles and bags within my reach at all times
The best lines written went up my nose
Carved in my initials
Choking down piss warm beer with the knot in the back of your throat
Pour a shot
Make a toast
To your fruitful dissociation
And, ghost everyone
Recover your faculties in social isolation
I accidentally let one loose -
like an egg bomb laid by a sick goose.
It smelled like a place where they mass produce
sulfuric acid for nostril abuse!
I got out the spray can to introduce
sweet smell to the air. It couldn’t reduce
the odor! The stench was so profuse,
a cop would have fined me for the misuse
of weaponry – which was my caboose!
“The dog did it,” was my lame excuse.
“You bad dog, get out of here now. Vamoose!”
July 11, 2018 for "I Accidentally let one loose" Contest
Now for Jesse Rowe's Second Chance For The Unloved Poem Poetry Contest
Their masters
Whenever they talk
Emit sulfuric acid
Into the crowd of scrambling books upon the imagination bubbling thoughts
Ticket of talks tail the sound of burglar fist the bottom most mistake to
The military base.
I try to stand suddenly snow of imagination cover my entity the stone rolls
Under my feet see my enemy smile to fish scent the wife wiped off the tears
In the morning wet sand swallow my hope to tuck.
I never give such thought to tomato garden, crystal night morning pain I
Preferred to swallow the night like broken bottles where Pharaoh pays his
Nemesis. The smell of rainbow stitches on my nose needle prick.
The velocity of my mind and eyes travels billions of miles in seconds
searching for the truth. Milky boy incompatible with my poems the sound of
Hate can't take me away from winning the award to alumni shape shocked the
entire anti-social.
The night wattle cock crown brown ideas like iodine morning with sulfuric
Scent gas in the air answer to the telephony booth master group of
Manipulators sucking fake fable tricking to marmalade taste that drew
People’s interest by the side of couch coin stunted ideas.
In the scheme of things I want to believe that everything is gonna be alright, nosferatu has his hand on the switch and he's about to turn out the lights. That evil grin, the stagnant sin of letting life pass you by because the fear of your future which is looking more bleak than bright
Where do you step off from here when the stones beneath your feet are falling further into the abyss and the monster churns the screams. Sucking you into its gullet, we are nutrients to the machine, metal spokes and sulfuric smoke constantly needing to feed
Hand in hand we take our stand like sloppy spaghetti strings, fighting for all the wrong reasons and needing a spotlight just to see
But the appendage we clasp is cold as ice when we melt into the fray, waiting for the only feeling you get from the burn of a razor blade
Ignorance is bliss and sealed with a kiss then silently tucked away, the fear we feel in darkness, unjustified I must say
What you can't see won't hurt you or is that what I want you to believe? Take a moment to make your decision, it's the only way out, you see?
Writing this while entities, ghosts are present --
Not able or willing to make themselves appear.
How could I know? You might, rightfully, augment.
I've always been able to sense when they're near.
But, alas -- time after time, there is nothing there.
I said, "they're," a lie -- you knew I meant "she,"
Didn't you? Why would I otherwise be so concerned?
At the peripheral of vision, mad treetops shake free.
In those shuckling movements, the wisp is returned.
The room I light, windows sealed, mirrors all turned.
I call friends and toast a garlic grilled cheese on rye.
There are occasional pests of undetermined colors
Scurrying to escape my wrath and condemning eye;
And, a sulfuric, rotten egg odor like old car mufflers.
I want to leave; but, am wary of moonlight shufflers.
On the roof it is peaceful, quiet. I am alone -- for now....
It is frustrating to not be certain if a person is tethered
Or crossed over -- a condition not only does death endow.
A face flashes. The phone rings. Her page is weathered.
Too few glimpses, hearsay, rumors -- I am surrendered.
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