ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

A Series of Abstract Poems.

Updated on October 15, 2016

False Profit

I saw a golden calf lay a golden egg, which hatched into a golden ballerina
She held a chalice full of blood, as she rode that bull into the China shop
But it gored her, and it all caught on fire

Skeletons With Makeup

A pile of bones walked by.
She winked at me with those eyeless sockets,
a blue hue at the edges, blush dusted about the cheek bones.
A bone-angel, an angel of death.

She said she was pretty.
I was disgusted with her tone of voice.
I winced as the crystal teeth ground out a harmonious melody.

The thought occurred that I might not be human,
but frogs kept coming out of her mouth.
We stood there and watched the frogs dance.


Torn to pieces with laws
By paper lions
Crying isn't useful now
This is not a Haiku
Don't tell me how to be happy.

I put the barrel of philosophy to my head...

And pulled the trigger.
The hole it made, out came all the profane,
Made me feel whole, like a gray and mundane sound.
But couldn't satisfy, I myself and me.
Terrible on purpose, to catch them in a lie.
Prowling just beyond perception, a cruel deception rings like a bell,
Blood pouring out upon the toll.
Pavlov would be proud.
You're not being deceived, if you conceived being pleased when received into a creed untrue.
How doesn't matter, only why. (Why?)
Arise! Cry out in the night, for the lives of your children in the streets,
Who hunger and thirst, but are never satisfied.
Yet you do not care or blush.
Yet you will when it is too late.
Yet forever, existence will cease,
Yet only for you.

Words to live by

If you could swim in a sea of light without time and just enjoy
not having to worry about the space between the photons, is
ignorance bliss if we don't know?

What if buying it is not possible, and the sound cuts through
our consciousness, like the taste of ripe fire coming out of our

I tell you, it is the greatest feeling, being pushed in the shopping
cart and not having to worry about melting ice-cream.

The stench overwhelms me when they say it isn't possible, or
try to tell me that you can get there some other way.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.