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Best Poems Written by Solus Mcknight

Below are the all-time best Solus Mcknight poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

A Flavour To Remember

On a recent Monday,
at 
an ice cream parlor
I found 
chunky pieces of clay,
in my
olde fashion sundae,
that weighed
like a tonne of bricks.
As I excavated
with my wooden spoon
I found crumbs 
of an asphalt driveway
with a blond toupee
and three tokens
for the New York
Tokyo and Montreal subway.
Several inches further
I discover racecar pj’s
with toes 
in full decay.
Swollen green 
blue 
red 
yellow 
black
purple
white
gold
bronze toes
laid on top
of a half cooked stingray.

Even my slush
had undergone
metamorphosis.
It contained
an unlikely flavour.
Instead 
of a flavourful 
cherry slush,
the drink was 
thicker than usual.
I found 
my entire cup
was filled with
``Grade F`` 
dog and horse pooh.

This encounter with
the weird and the bizzare
has taught me,
to take caution
when something 
is
free.

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Inside a Drum

I dreamt of a washing machine,
In colours so obscene,
Of shades of caffeine,
It washed everything that was clean,
To a shiny muddy unclean,
It was part of it's routine,
It was never to fond of hygiene,
I found an old tureen,
In gross shades of lime-green,
With a three feet sardine,
And I counted one of sixteen,
Tiny little soybean,
I found something murine,
Frosting sunscreen,
Between,
A pair of nankeen,
And jeans that were lean,
With a 10 pound bean,
Covered in fleshy dentine,
As well crushed strychnine,
Mixed in with liquid morphine,
With a hint of codeine,
To create a used vaccine,


I excavated further into the drum,
My left shoe stepped into gum,
My hands found bottles of rum,
As well a skull of a pilgrim,
A sock with a 44 magnum,
Guarding the used sock kingdom,
Hear muses singing like a threesome,
The kingdom’s national anthem,
I saw a shadowy possum,
Come out of a rectum,
And I became bum,
When it proposed a threesome
Between it ,me and my right thumb,
I started to have a symptom,
That began to blossom
And needed a valium,
Or a serum,
To rid of this irksome,
Three things made up an outcome,
I had a possum,
Who thinks is handsome,
My thumb,
Excess sucking of sheer gruesome,
Melting feelings to a num,
And pressing against my sternum
And now I feel really dumb,
Stuck inside a drum

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Ars Es Longa, Vita Brevis

Ars est longa,
vita brevis.
Art is immortal.
Art is infinite.
Pictograms tell a story,
of Man that have past.
Terra cotta pots and cuneiforms,
Depicts their details of Lives.
Paintbrushes and canvases,
bring history alive.
Statues of stone or metal,
Remind us of the legacies,
That people left behind.
Art is history,
And forever it will be,
The story of Life
as we see it.

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

All Along the Watchtower

All
along the watchtower,
little babies
line the tower 
curled up 
in a foetal
in the cold.
They live motherless
as 
little snowflakes fall.
They live fatherless
as
the wind
sweeps,
every minute, 
the weakest cry
into a better world.

High pitched cries
from frail bodies
weaken
by miles of seconds
Passing by.
As more fade
a multiplicity
of babies 
are dropped off
along 
the watchtower.
They're colder
and more shivering.

No one to feed
poor souls!
No one to fade
their cries
No one to give
them attention
No one 
who cares
No one
at all.
It simply
difficult 
to feel 
helpless.

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Liquid Fears

I cry,
When I cut and bleed,

I scream,
When soap make suds,

I whimper,
To the sound of flushing toilets,

I thunder,
When my cereals are wet,

I yell,
At seeing a clear drop of water in a mug,

I faint,
In the wettest of weathers,

I curl up in a foetal,
When the janitor mops the floor,

I wish I lived in a desert!
Beside sandy weather,
And have pet vulture,
Picking the best parts of me!
Because my life,
Is not a day at the beach

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Enlightment of Reality

Ah!

It really blows
living sorely below
breathing in
Nauseating amounts
Of fumes
which leaves me
light-headed
which ultimately
plagues me
like an infectious cancer.
I’m oppressed
from all 
viewable sides.
I’m like caged
with 
76 straight jackets
bundling me.
It is 
kind of stuffy.


I just wish the heaven’s
Wouldn’t intake
So much beans
Because it truly reeks
Between the cracks
Of life.

Ah!
Not again!!

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Lady On the Vine ...

Lady on the vine
branching out 
to the world.
Rummaging
through mountains
and valleys 
across the plains
and bodies of water
for some
rejuvenating peace
and away 
from the
werewolves 
that lurk around 
her woods.

Werewolves 
of a paranoid nature
increasingly 
ravaging life.
Crucifying tranquility
in search 
of a fresh prey
to feast 
and pick clean.

It’s always havoc
and chaos
breathing down
the bridle branches

Will the werewolves
go away?
 
.

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Rainy Night In Montreal

Heartache of angels
crying 
on the shoulder 
of Mother, 
on droopy skies,
of vanilla grey.
Fruits of light
dangle from trees,
Lighting 
the vanilla 
of the night.
Highways 
filled with horns,
stuck in traffic.
Everyone 
chats in whisper.
No piping 
from the whistler,
moving carts 
for hordes
in the caves,
rolling thousands
by minutes.
Plenty talk 
with paranoia
some read,
some knit,
while others swear.
Air is rusty 
and cold,
vapour like,
To the breathe 
and form ice.  
On a rainy night
in Montreal

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

Knocking On Heaven's Doors

I’m knocking 
on heaven’s doors,
for I need
to complain
to the All Mighty.
No one cares
to answer me.
I’m left
to ponder
with my
drizzling 
drenching 
drips and drops
of tears.

I intensify
the pace 
of my knocking
but eerie silence
of quietness
greets me 
with a complimentary
bouquets of black roses.

Yelling
and vociferating
my anger 
in a pouring rain
of words
drenching 
and flooding
the world 
with layers 
and coating
of fresh pain.

I’m knocking 
on heaven’s doors,
for I need
to complain
to the All Mighty.
No one cares
to answer me.
I’m left
to ponder
with my
drizzling 
drenching 
drips and drops
of tears.

I intensify
the pace 
of my knocking
but eerie silence
of quietness
greets me 
with a complimentary
bouquets of black roses.

Yelling
and vociferating
my anger 
in a pouring rain
of words
drenching 
and flooding
the world 
with layers 
and coating
of fresh pain.

Why 
did 
you take 
my father 
away? 
What 
pleasure
does it make
you feel
to see 
eyes cry?
What 
sick 
and 
twisted
pleasure
do 
you 
get!
from 
killing
the only thing 
I had
as 
a family?

Tell me!
Answer me!
Why won’t 
Anyone answer me?

He doesn’t belong 
to you 
so give him
back to me!!
Now!!!!!!!!!

Details | Solus Mcknight Poem

9 To ?

Three little bodies
of three little strangers
that looked like
three best friends
posed with a
slump poise
next to an open 
cylindrical
garbage container
that had it lid
kneeling against
the feet 
of the can
and weeping sadness
fine drenching mist
of red tears.

Red tears
shaped like crosses
that bear
inscriptions 
into the infinites
of victims,
who’ve splashed
their own mist 
of redness 
Against their wills
in factories
fields
and as 
probing objects.

It won’t be long
till
three little interviews 
will commence
for this position.
.