hell – Opinions Of Eye

Hindsight

“Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you’re allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It’s like killing yourself, and then you’re reborn. I guess I’ve lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.”
― Charles Bukowski

skins

The morning after, it’s plain to see,

the drunken mistakes, you did to me

Your eyes are teary, with stains of sorrow

I’m hardened to that, it’ll happen tomorrow

As the sun sets fear, sings lullabies

Soon you’ll be home, bringing hell and goodbyes

Again the saddest story is now told

I’m becoming a drunk too, as I grow old

You stained my mind, with intoxicated words

Breaking my soul, with your scourge

this morning tells a story, of my final plea

I lay this bottle down, because you have become me.

Spark Of Life – Your Touch –

“I’ve told you the four thunderstorms – disappointment, frustration, unfairness and isolation. You cannot avoid them, as like the monsoon they will come into your life at regular intervals. You just need to keep the raincoat handy to not let the spark die”

– Chetan Bhagat

spacefairytales

Seen it come and seen it go, many days high, many days low.

Something about creating, lets me see.

Something about feeling it come over me,

Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.

Without your touch those words will die were they fell.

Without your touch those marks are lost in gray hell.

Without your touch those plans are hard to tell.

Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.

Seen it come and seen it go, many days high, many days low.

Something about creating, lets me see.

Something about feeling it come over me,

Bringing a spark of life to everyday things.

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

01062011

Exception –

“I cannot be bound to the confines of your rules. I am the exception to them.”
― Truth Devour, Wantin

Exceptions are not always the proof of the old rule; they can also be the harbinger of a new one.Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/exceptions.html#SPifiytmmLA6GPDe.99

“Exceptions are not proof of the old rule; they can also be a harbinger of a new one.”

– Marie von Ebner Eschenbach

jennifer-sixx

We were together for years it seems

but those days are just part of a dream

Heaven sent but hell bound

for my blood scent a female hound

Things left a confusing scene

broken scars all part of the sheen

Your memory still at midnight prevails

for all that is wrong, it still leaves trails

No more tears, their long gone

buried in the shadows of woman’s song

When the afternoon’s sun turns to nights wrath, I’m left with nothing. But God.

There is way that seems right to man, in my broken mind it’s a fallacy. But God.

Lust consumes and passions lead on into the gray of a twilight future. But God.

In vain chasing the white clouds that bring relief from this insanity. But God.
But even the high stacks of fortune’s thievery leave me alone. But God.

No way out of this green mile of hell’s gauntlet, cheered on by devils. But God.

In the desperate flames, drums of throbbing nights beat my soul. But God.

But God

will destroy contradiction

will make a way of escape

will break sadness with a smile

will set the solitary in a family.

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

10192013

Permutations

“The life of the dead is set in the memory of the living.” ― Cicero, Philippics

taliesyne

There’s something hidden, a suffocated wish tucked away in a forgotten cobwebbed corner. The gray green tints of death work their magic in transforming the wonder to a wasted sticky mess that’s never the same. A smell of the once alive, again persuades the living. We’re fatefully committed to the peer pressure of dead things and that without prejudice. A moment that died many years ago…it lives still, kept alive by the artificial respirator of my mind. It then remains that the only way to kill it, is to kill me. Damn the longevity of dead dreams! Of dead love! May death release me from their vice, and if they were to live on, this will be the hell of the underworld.

Also published in Wingposse

02192014

Nemesis – Stalked From My Youth –

This poem depicts the spiritual entity that from my childhood, stalks me. I know him, he knows me, and the battle continues. I have one refuge, that of prayer. Wouldn’t you pray after seeing that the enemy’s power is far greater than your own?

xbloodxforgottenx

Prowling, eyes alert, glowing red’s the sign

That what stalks me, is a spiritual kind

All it’s attentions, frothing tongue a tell

With growls preaching, at me from hell

When it comes, the dark is it’s lair,

No matter where I go, it finds me there

Words of religion, it does completely despise

I’m never away, from those deep red eyes.

Related Post: Hour of the Wolf – Wrestling With 3 A.M.
012412

Last Dance

“It is one of the considerable privileges of art that the horrible can be transformed, through artful expression, into beauty.” – Baudelaire

“Nothing burns like the cold.” – George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

sinkinginsociety

The tombstone, angled slightly askew,

tumbled out of bounds

with a weedy surround

Miss Daze stood, in wind her hair flew,

in tears from all the sound

coming from cold ground

Flames they shot, forked vehemence,

voice from grave beneath

a mouth without teeth

A door revealed, viewed with vengeance,

Swaying she was sure to be

chanting a nether decree

A demon red, he stood in great haste,

and with a beastly shove

grabbed Miss Daze from above

Sinister the dance, in smoky and hellish taste,

Passion’s rigor is restored

Forcing open Deaths door

Pee – The stain never fades

“PTSD is a whole-body tragedy, an integral human event of enormous proportions with massive repercussions.” – Susan Pease Banitt

dirtifulmind

The stain spread across her crotch and down her legs. Not sure why, being far past the age when self control is learned, but her young body seemed to respond this way. She knew what this meant, the beatings, the torture, the hell that came by the hand of adopted dads and step moms who didn’t understand why. Did they consider that maybe something’s wrong? Did they know that a babysitter used the bathroom to defile her innocence, violating her with fucked up fantasies? No, she was left to deal with the severe repercussions, searching for a remedy. The diaper she wore in public (embarrassment being the rod of chastisement her step parents thought her worthy of), locked her in stocks of shame that forever took the pee stain, and engraved that young mind with its stench. She prayed often in those days for the God that raised people from the dead, the God that made blind men see, to just do a simple thing and dry her stain. Of course, the wetness never dried until it was to late, and her young faith died after many unanswered prayers. Let this be a warning for parents everywhere, pay attention to your kids, there are reasons why.

Firestarter

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” – Albert Schweitzer

Fire starter bring your primal heat to my place of safety

Tall are the trees that will burn in your fury of heated infamy

Crackling sounds call as newborn flames lick through my glory

Living smooth tongues of burning passion consume and cleanse

The glare’s captured essence of your fires reflected in my eyes

The power to destroy is close to power to create in chaos

My joyful sorrows light is this forever hellish glow on earth,

My pleasure reborn in an ember embrace of fiery vitality

05192012

Slamming Doors – The sound of violence

“A door slamming makes one jump, but
it doesn’t make one afraid. What one fears
is the serpent that crawls underneath it.” – Collete

“Starting when I was a kid barely four,

I knew the beating was coming

by the sound of a slamming door

Picking myself up from off the cold floor

His bruises held my mind in fear

by the sound of a slamming door

Older now and wiser but still my soul abhors

the awful things that come and anger shown

by the sound of a slamming door”

– DMW

How can I describe the feeling I get when a door slams? Hundreds of heartbreaking moments all carry that signature. I can tell when lives carry the heat of anger by the condition of the doors. Splintered frames, stripped hinges, door knobs shattered with pieces strewn around the room, the bottom of the door scraping the floor. I’ve locked doors, only to see them broken down by a significant other – be it a drunk father, jealous girlfriend, or some random hell bent soul. The sound impacts me psychologically now. It initiates a vigilance and tense anticipation of impending doom. It makes me mad, really mad, like a rage that crawls over me with it’s claws out. There are doors inside my heart as well. You can’t hear them but I do. Women slam them when they betray me, kids slam them when they reject me, and men slam them when they threaten me. I can’t turn off the feelings quick enough when I’m energized by the sound of the slamming doors. I long to live in peace, and right now, I feel real peaceful but wait, did you hear that? Nooooooooo!!!

Related Post: The Tub

Slamming Doors – The sound of violence

“A door slamming makes one jump, but
it doesn’t make one afraid. What one fears
is the serpent that crawls underneath it.” – Collete

“Starting when I was a kid barely four,

I knew the beating was coming

by the sound of a slamming door

Picking myself up from off the cold floor

His bruises held my mind in fear

by the sound of a slamming door

Older now and wiser but still my soul abhors

the awful things that come and anger shown

by the sound of a slamming door”

– DMW

Related Post: The Tub