Here is a batch of dark/horror poems from my early days, with original publications given.
simple torment
Torment poured from every chord
Torment poured from every wait
Torment poured from wait forever
Torment poured wait forever and
Torment wait forever and you’ll see:
Someone will come and there will be magic,
But first the torment …
pouring from every forever.
: Published in Glossolalia #9 (12/96)
drowning
I woke up to find an image of me
rippling on the waves,
It faded when I rubbed my eyes
to writing on the wall,
I turned about then to face my clock
rolling to see when,
I’ve been in the sea for too long now —
I shall not rise again.
: Published in Dreams & Nightmares #9 (10/86)
the shape of things to come
1 1 1Square things, round things,
Oblate spheroids all impaled and
Glued together by shifting wires
That grow themselves to spawn
Further complexities yet.
2 2 2Gears with buzzsaw teeth,
Bees’ heads in waxen molds,
A row of babies crushed
Paper-thin under a screaming train,
All imbedded in a flowing
Salty gelatin of no particular shade.
3 3 3Icicles hanging from
Drainpipes hanging from
Lacy gambrels under a crescent moon mood,
All features overlapped in shining crystal.
4 4 4All three scenes are now
Toasted on a spit to a
Charred, formless lump:
The shape of things to come.
5 5 5You can change it if you try:
Just choose the babies,
Break the proper icicles,
Stoke the fire, and wait.
: Published in Dreams & Nightmares #19/20.
pacing myself
Every now and then
I get up and pace
About myself muttering
What it is I don’t like,
(Every now and then
I watch myself circle
And feel I’m too harsh a critic)
When I float over my bed
At night and look back
I hate to see myself
Drooling on the pillow
(When I look up wildly
Between the nightmares
I prefer to be alone)
We sleep together
Back to back in a midnight sky.
: Accepted by MIDNIGHT WINE, 1987 (folded)
helium planet
Jesus brought the world home one day,
It was golden and floating and fun,
But slowly the helium went out of it,
It sank low, lay crumpled and unloved.
“I’II take you now and blow you up,”
He said from the kindness of his heart,
But he inhaled accidentally,
And now he sounds like a mouse when he speaks.
: probably published in ALTERNATIVE fiction & poetry #6, 1987 (I never got a copy)
The First Flame
The First Flame still lives
somewhere in central Asia,
He is concerned with His children —
They weave such large fires,
He used to travel abroad
but it’s all too dangerous now,
He runs from the people,
he hides and He cries,
The summit of his mountain
is bathed in steam.
: Published in Golden Isis (spring 1987)
Standing at your door
Standing in the rain,
My shirt a trickle upon my skin,
My hair has fallen silent,
A tiny river rules my neck,
Cold condenses my shoulders,
Like the sun my heart
cowers behind a veil of gloom,
Unable to break free,
For fear of touching the rain,
Restless in its uncertainty
and separation, I wish
only that you should return
to touch the cold with your
willowing warmth, yet I feel
so certain so afraid
that you never lived here at all.
: Written 8/5/86, Published in Poetry Break (9/90)
The Art of Acting
In acting some people excel,
Excepting themselves for some other role,
Resisting reflexes to realize the part,
Playing praise games with the director,
Daring endearing diverse, but unreal,
Unknown away from the confines of stage,
So steeped in the play there is no solid form,
For fears and fancies build the actor’s nest,
And circular stages reflect in their eyes.
: Written 8/5/86. Probably published in Pink Chameleon #4 ?
My Creator
Somewhere in a dark place
where shadows never go,
He sits spewing forth children
who walk the earth for him
and whisper his name.
: Written 8/16/86. Published in Starsong #2, 12/87
force of writing
Force pushed my mind
to the pen and
through the paper to
reach with my scratches to
distant minds of
my own language yet
my work has no meaning to
these hordes of others …
I shall not rest
nor should I need to
until they all share my gift
and speak themselves
and then each other.
: Written 9/7/86. Published in The Creative Urge, 2/87
baggage claim
Claim your baggage …
Material left unclaimed
will be stored for 60 days
then sold at auction, so
Claim your baggage now!
This arm must be yours,
and this torso, yours.
You, sir, should put some
eyes in that thing.
Claim you baggage now!
: Written 9/7/86. Published in Scavenger’s Newsletter #50, 4/88
At the Lake
Something down there
under rippling waves
scraped your foot;
Imagine now,
had you stepped more firmly,
what forgotten thing
might choose to recall you.
: Written 9/9/86. Published in Starsong #6, 1/89