August 25th, 2004

Cthulhu Joyce

Nightmare

I am greeted by dead women
and crusted sleeplessness
in the morning. She is lying there
being violated by a man
with a long beard - a Rasputin
envious of the death his worship
has obtained. He would rather
revive her in Ray-gun Gothic atmosphere
than sleep normal hours with her.

I would pump coffee
extra strong through dead veins.
At least then
when I suckled at her extremities
they would be warm and wake me
from this horrific nightmare.


Inspired by this post by mistersleepless
  • Current Mood
    sick Ick
Cthulhu Joyce

Inverted Obsession

A stern voice uninvited
tells me to change my life.
It's amplitude is larger than I
and demands tithing of my ability
to stand. I would rather fall
like the unprotected gargoyle
to a spectacle of a death
than admit that anything
has power over me.

You are not the boss of me,
I am the boss of myself. A free spirit
without shackles, tethered only
to emotion and intellectual pursuits.

This defines your boss.
Seeking anything gives it the power
to control you.
I am controling
your tethers- swaying you.
I am as powerful
as you are free to pursue life.
I am your downfall.
Ambition brings subjugation
to that for which we strive.

Get on your knees
I am that I am
your addiction.
  • Current Mood
    enthralled enthralled
Cthulhu Joyce

Tunkashila

You are whispering.
Even in the quiet places
where we danced between the veil
your voice is subdued.
My ears were well tuned
to your rhythm, thunder drums on the plains.
That was before an ice age passed,
glaciers thoroughly ripping us apart.
Now, standing on the tundra
with my fire burning dim
I fear for us. There
are no places for crow to perch
and I cannot sheer passage,
my silver knife dulled
and green with corrosion.
I have not copper to give,
nor the courage to redeem it.

Rip my body to rebuild me
in tunnels through which
I have suffused.
Trauma is snake magic
and gives the euphoria of facing
the dauntless dawn.
Speak to me and mend my broken ears
  • Current Mood
    blank blank