Monday, June 15, 2015

sanitarium compositions #5

Two more fragments:


Untitled #2

There is a shimmer of diamond dust
A glimmer of something that placates my wanderlust
If only briefly, hope takes hold
Chiefly because of the glittering cold.

Then I see no more dazzle, no brilliance
Although I await her with patience-
Like a daintily potted daffodil
Standing stoic on a predawn windowsill.


Untitled #3

It takes but one goose to lead the flock
And one wolf to turn them loose
Upon pastel skies.
In a flurry of sanguine fangs, a frantic
Tumult of down
They fly, southbound,
Much to the delight
Of the most
Predatory race
To ever walk
This storied Earth

Sanitarium compositions #4

Entry number four of my musings from my time in the asylum~

Untitled

Within this labyrinth
I eagerly whisper, to no one,
Of the brilliant luminescence
Emanating from the nothingness.
Like a moth to a blinding torch
Like sheep to a billboard
Above the deepest morass
I reflect upon
The finality of my excursion.

In the further beyond,
A dozen ballerinas mingle,
Eagerly, within a boneyard
(A painted exhibition of spite).
Within this spectrum,
A maelstrom circles
The arterial junction
Within a raven's swelling breast.

The raw momentum of the stars
Cunningly undoes my composure
As a golden morning engulfs
My hardly tended soil-
It panics and flowers,
Reminiscent of young souls.
On my chariot, I will venture
To the depths of this abyss
And combust with the vicious kingdom.
Is this unspeakable,
Or a beautiful cycle?


Sanitarium compositions #3

Another entry of poetry composed in a mental institution.


Psilocybin and Skeletons


Bleached curvature of bone
Jutting skyward
Toward the wayward crescent
Of the heavens,
As it runs,
Fettered by physics,
From the sun.
It speaks to me in foreign tongues
Babbling on about pasts
And futures alike.

The sanitarium compositions #2

Some fragments of poetry written while under lock and key :

View From a Sanitarium Room Window

The gleaming clouds, in their gyres
Leer, askance, at the verdant,
Daintily beckoning spires
Titillating by chance in lofty air currents.
The goddess herself, in her strength and her frailty
Stands before me, in my shame and my heresy.


View From a Sanitarium Room Window #2

I stand, peering
From a first floor window
As transparent as my longings.
Leering at my captors,
Abhorrent as they are,
I still wish them no harm.
Many sneer back,
Showing a lack of empathy
Those meager examples
Of humanity
Judging me insane
For staining the glass
With my palms

The sanitarium compositions #1

This and some posts to follow are poems, fragments, and other assorted bullshit that I wrote in my most recent incarceration in the asylum. Here's to never going back.




A dropper of crimson watercolor sits
Beside an empty chalice
And a blank canvas
Such disservice!

But nothing expressed
Means nothing
To lose, and
Nothing missed.

The reality is different
Verses pass my lips
Like shards of glass
But crowds hold their roses

A release in defeat
An expressive sigh
Try again
Set me free

My scythe of words
Cuts deeply enough
To spill soul
Onto floor

A plague of metaphors,
Uncertain meanings,
Absurd ideas
I know them well

Born alone
Amongst the billions
Die unknown
Forever unheard