Poem Collection III
Those on Eros/Harm
Lambs and Wolves
My body is the blank canvas that mirrors the small lamb that wishes to be hunted Small pure virginity screams with unhinged desire for the desecration of its own flesh The most perfect of works of art is made as the wolf’s sharp fangs break through soft skin Blood spurts as the pushes and pulls of teeth disfigure the flesh and rip it apart Organs torn away, pulled outside by the ravishing maw of the wolf Mangled corpse in a pool of blood as torn flesh and meat creates a pile of death The magnum opus of life reached as I’m broken and tattered and ripped from my form The only salvation for the poor blank canvas is to be made into art by the wolf It is my deepest desire It is what will take me to heaven I must be thrown thrown into the wolves I must be ripped apart It will take me through hell That is my deepest desire It is in the state of sacred perfection that I beg for desecration That what is organized and healthy is scattered into blood soaked pieces A knife penetrates Blood squirts I beg for the only thing that can take me away from slow damnation steel fang through my skin, ripping my flesh and releasing my blood Screams in terror as I’m gutted like a pig, as my intestines spill out and fall on the floor Again Again And again I beg for my throat to be cut, swiftly, letting it squirt blood over my saviour I beg for my head to be cut off, held by the hair and impaled on a spike I beg for my face to be smashed again, again, again and again and again I’m a small lamb, a blank canvas from which art will bloom Blood will spill from my corpse and meat will leave its fleshy jail Like roses roses blooming beautifully It is that destruction that shall be ultimate beauty Ultimate art My body begs to be an art piece, it begs for wolves I must be thrown into the wolves, I must be mauled I must submit, fall to the ground as a crying, sobbing mess incapable of anything but to be devoured by the wolves again again and again I must be thrown into the ground I must be held down I must be stomped on I must be made to cry My heart it beats beats beats BEATS pumps blood gets me running All through desire This one deep desire It’s beating DEAFENS ME TURNS ME MAD FOR DESIRE TO BE MAULED TO BE LORDED OVER TO BE STABBED TO BE EATEN TO BE TORN APART TO BE RIPPED INTO PIECES TO BE GUTTED TO BECOME CARNAGE TO BECOME CRIME I DO NOT THINK OF DEATH THIS IS LIFE ARTFUL LIFE MEANINGFUL LIFE I MUST BE MAULED BLOOD AND GUTS TORN OFF SKIN CRACKED BONE MAKE A BEAUTIFUL TAPESTRY OF ME
Cycle
The sky is red today. A loud roar broke into my mind as GOD descended to give me its truth It pierced my cornea straight into my brain, a searing hot pain invaded my head Every part of it begun to bubble and to melt as it processes the revelation Eternal Truth spiraled and dug into every part of me Travelled through my spine, burning it as it went It paralyzed me into the position I was meant to be That pain is all that will ever be Clashes and clashes and clashes, bodies were meant to break into each other Violence is to be repeated again and again and again Bodies are meant to be broken, taken apart and exploited As animals are meant to gnaw on one another, to claw and render flesh asunder It is total, complete My eyes quickly attempt to look at anywhere it isn’t, but it always is It will always be We are meant to hurt one another To do violence and violence and violence The hand that touched me marks my flesh, a burn that spreads and spreads It reaches my brain, it makes my body contort and shake It reaches every corner of me, pulls me apart and makes me again I am left a broken bloody mess, thrown away into the world thrown into it so I can mark someone else thrown into it so I can be marked again And every body bears a mark, every slice of flesh has been infected Every body has been stabbed, gutted, sliced, bitten, bashed, torn apart and smashed Every body is broken, crawling, letting out blood and reaching out to anything out of instinct Brutish movements only serve to break more, like arms flapping in a crowd Again Again Again It is Forever It is Everywhere There is no Escape Every relation is one of hurt Hurt is what came before it and made it Hurt is what will come and unmake it An endless orgy of murder and cannibalism Broken bodies seeking to break bodies Broken bodies seeking to break themselves further Broken, broken, broken, bodies, bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies bodies Marked with blood Marked with burns Marked with pain An endless cacophony of screams It reaches everywhere Every square inch of the earth Covered in its transcendental nature To walk is to step over a body Torment, forever and ever and ever Original sin repeating over and over again Sins of the father running down the entire tree unto extinction Every soul born will suffer Every soul born will be torn apart Every soul born will be hurt But not just hurt It will be hurt by another soul Because every soul born will hurt another An endless wheel of bodies breaking on one another Crushing cogs of bodies clashing like an industrial mechanism Everyone is terrible Everyone will be made terrible Nothing ever remains whole Nothing ever remains pure That suffering is passed on is the rule That hurt melts every body is the truth There may be genetic dead ends Points where it isn’t passed on It is not enough It will never be enough We will all tear ourselves apart We will all die screaming We will all live worse lives because of another We will all live with guilt My corpse is left to understand this truth As the searing light of GOD retreats Leaving a pool of intestines and blood A pile of bones and burnt flesh It is only one It spins It spins It spins It spins It spins It spins It spins It is the earth, the world It is everywhere you look It is everything that is It is every thought you have You can stop it from propagating You cannot stop it from existing It made you It will unmake you Hope exists only in the future Not here Never here Here There are bodies There are corpses There is a wheel And it spins it spins
Eyes
Eyes Hall of mirrors summon a thousand images Perspective prison storing broken silhouettes Stuck, Stuck, Stuck Beyond perspective there is only TERROR I am not anything You are everything evil The course of creation is that of pain I cannot stay away I am unmade, made, unmade, made, unmade So are you A reciprocal relationship of creation and destruction I am nothing at all at the order of the concrete So are you A mirror image of myself, I am to you in your world A mirror image of you, You are to me in my world But something is wrong Something is festering Fear Terror It invades the hall like a barbarian army It pillages every notion I have Cracks mirrors and distorts my vision I am no longer a creator, I am fear’s vassal Every notion I have is distorted to frantic paranoia Every soft curve turns into a sharp dagger I stagger and curl up in a claustrophobic space Abandonment looms over me like the absolute truth Like the absolute end, The final destination I cannot cannot cannot cannot cannot Have this It is impossible It must be But then why does it seem clear Why does it seem so close? It is running to me, I cannot avoid it I can scream, I can contort myself I cannot protect myself from this absolute fear And then the SILENCE I despise the SILENCE Everything that isn’t could be something that would hurt me I will get hurt absolutely Rationality shines through and says its nothing It is a neurosis in my head It doesn’t shine enough Everything remains dark Everything remains dangerous It is inevitable This dark I know what it hides They hate me I’m terrible They will abandon me I’m alone I must do everything to prevent this I must lower myself to the lowest point I must make myself as small as possible Anything for that to not be the result THEY HATE ME THEY HATE ME THEY HATE ME THEY HATE ME I will be abandoned I grew too attached The fear makes me attach Over and over again With everything and everyone I must give all myself to the one And then I’m nothing And then I create the sword of damocles to myself The ultimate annihilation becomes possible And I can only leave in fear Neglect Neglect Neglect And now what? Eternal anxiety consumes me War ravages my brain There is nothing else but fear Attachment, deep attachment but fear I know the consequence of that attachment It is oblivion I must never let them go What will I be without them? Nothing So it becomes the most terrifying of possibilities So it swims and swims and swims in my head Until it becomes the only possibility The inevitable end I’m walking towards So I’m made into a beast of fear Of anxiety Everything loses sense Fear distorts everything like a wave breaking through my reality And then it's nothing All in my head Worry Just worry All of it
Melting
All sense is nulled and deformed Blood washes over the bodies with the violence of a storm Flesh and organs are pulled in and put into shape Our eyes meet A thousand realities are created from a cerebral orgasm of blood Splattering upon the walls and making the stars and galaxies An infinitude of meaning and feeling is compressed Put together All is wrapped together into the tiny space of a human body The gravity it exerts pulls everything near, it is the very vision of everything I cannot perceive it, not as it is, for it isn’t anything that can be fathomed I see only an image of it, drawn from the blood that is pumped by my heart It swirls and spirals and swirls and spirals in my eyes, It is everything It contains parts of me, but not enough That construct of flesh and bone, more divine than God itself It calls to me, I feel my flesh begging for it I feel myself stretched, parts of me pulled into it I wants to be one with it I wants to melt in it Every particle in my body begs for oblivion Not any oblivion Its oblivion To be hurled at and smash themselves at the figure of it All my senses are unmade, every bit of logic undone Every connection in my brain rewired I beg for connection I beg it answers back I beg it takes me and brings the end of me That it pierces every part of me until I am connected to it That it smashes me until I am splashed onto it That it devours me until I am it It is a desire for death, but it is no death drive No, this is Eros, true eros, that rationalists could never touch or understand It is that which goes beyond the repulsion of death It goes beyond because what it wants is more It is to no longer be one, and to join it, as one. An unending desire distorts and reforms my body Every inch of it, a mess of flesh pulling itself apart and remaking it All to serve one purpose, to be one thing to beg and beg and beg To yell To say The one truth: “I want you to kill me” We lock eyes again I am unmade and then made again I exist in you as you exist in me I hear your calling An eldritch voice that reaches my very soul As if the vibrations reach my heart and not my ears I can hear it, more than anything You see me too You perceive me You call me too You want me to kill you too So we are both to die Masses of flesh clashing against one another Limits of bodies broken as parts melt and fuse No beginning and no end An endless mass of bliss Incomprehensible by any logic Incapable of being reached by any words A feeling by itself But also a creature, a thing The universe collapses unto itself Stars burn and explode Organs flee their bodies The very ending of everything I do not have the mind to comprehend it It is only desire desire breaking through desire unmaking everything like a cosmic ray Absolute oblivion And then, we are two again And then, we meet eyes again Universes are remade But I exist within you And you within me There in our eyes, we can see it Everything dwelling inside an infinite cosmos And it calls for rituals like an ancient god It begs for sacrifice It begs to go beyond death It will
comment unrelated, except for poetry
So what's your criticism of the apparently cringe poem circulating on twitter now?
(Would have asked there–but I don't have an acc and use nitter, so)
Most criticisms of it are either just castigating it for seeming like "prose w/ line breaks" or w/e or castrating it for genre
So either ignoring the fact that
lineation is a technique for creating rhythm
and reordering context, and so on—
poetry *can* be created from
cutting chopping fucking up spindle fold and mutilating
prose and source texts—
or failing to aesthetically evaluate the piece within the genre it fully occupies
which seems the fairest and most faithful approach
(the genre itself may be mid, but for gender's sake, does that really matter?)
in the absence of a better example of the author's other work and being bereft
of an exegesis of the exact aesthetic values the author desired to exhume for the piece.
The most interesting reason to criticise it would be not the incessant chatting about
objective aesthetics and how the poem obstructs itself from those flatland heights
but to tell us about the critic’s aesthetics and tell us what they would have done
were they writing a confessional poem about sex and dinner
like ironicising the confessional I
commenting on its artificiality
examining how its reduction of real relationships
to mere poetic material
is taking a second bite of the cherry, chasing that moment by
unfolding it lines and splaying on paper like a Lepidoptera of love
under the gaze of the poet-naturalist, glancing at the world
and describing it "as it is". Dream on, larks of love in. side out.