~brethren misguided~

03/03/2012

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~damned to be rabid dog bitten~
~the twisted vein at the business end of a needle~
~molested by someone’s older sister~
~or was it your own~
~alone in the bathtub~
~the only one in the room~
~cryptococcus in the tomb~
~c’mon l’il girl~
~got somethin’ for ya~

~brethren misguided~ 
~the woman has broken his heart~
~says she loves him too much to love him~
~unable to say goodbye~
~she refuses to say hello~
~the mystery of gender is elusive~
~islands are free as they stand~
~defenseless in the face of tides~

~the loss of love is a nearer death~
~as its constituents are breathing still~
~a double suicide as it were~
~grief, a shifting wall of shadows~
~the pallbearers were blindfolded~
~united in their stilted, stiff-gait stride~
~a corpse enters & owns any room~

~he longs to be the last man standing~
~the whole damned world has gone to sleep~
~the refrigerator and tick tock clock~
~growl through his sleepless insomniac mind~
~is a wizard buried under a dead tree~
~whose roots strangled the life from him~
~when he attempted to ingest its seeds of knowledge~

~he is the prefect of loneliness~
~a crowded voice in an empty room~
~ten-penny wishes on saturday night~
~the tinsel voice of the woman says I love you~
~as recorded on the telephone machine~
~so long as you promise to stay away~
 ~& realize I need not to need you~

~his flesh is onion skin stretched~
~o’er the starched bones of mediocrity~
~a spider web bouncing on his eyes~
~whose maker has seen who he is~
~& eaten her way through his brain~
~is a thin masque veil of death smoke~
~rising from the fading ember life~


~she told him & his brother~
~tostand up & act like men~
~they argued, fought over bananas~
~chased naked women up & down halls~
~life gets swallowed by alleys~
~mad dogs on the moon~
~he said he was glad she was dead~
~either a lie or the tears in his eyes~

http://wordwulf.com
WordWulf
Inquiries: tracy@traceliteraryagency.com
& wordwulf@wordwulf.com
©graphic artwork & words conceived by & property of
Tom (WordWulf) Sterner©
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~Brethren Misguided~

10/09/2011

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~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: IV~

~damned to be rabid dog bitten~
~the twisted vein at the business end of a needle~
~molested by an older sibling~
~alone in the bathtub~
~alone in the room~
~cryptococcus in the tomb~
~c’mon l’il girl~
~got somethin’ for ya~

~Brethren Misguided~  

The woman has broken his heart, says she loves him too much to love him.  Unable to say goodbye, she refuses to say hello.  The mystery of gender is elusive.  Islands are free as they stand, defenseless in the face of tides.

The loss of love is a nearer death, as its constituents are breathing still, a double suicide as it were, grief, a shifting wall of shadows.  The pallbearers were blindfolded, united in their stilted, stiff-gait stride.  A corpse enters and owns any room. 

I have a longing to be the last man standing.  The whole damned world has gone to sleep.  The refrigerator and tick tock clock growl through the mind of the insomniac.  The wizard is buried under the dead tree whose roots strangled him to death when he ingested seeds of knowledge.

I am the prefect of loneliness, a crowded voice in an empty room, ten-penny wishes on Saturday night.  The voice of the woman says I love you, as recorded on the telephone machine, so long as you promise to stay away, realize I need not to need you. 

My flesh is onion skin stretched o’er the starched bones of mediocrity, a spider web bouncing on my eyes whose maker has seen who I am and eaten her way through my brain is a thin masque veil of death smoke rising from the fading ember life.

She told us to stand up and be men.  We argued, fought over bananas, chased naked women up and down the halls where life is swallowed by alleys, mad dogs with moons in their eyes.  He said he was glad she was dead.  Only I saw the lie in the tears in his eyes.

http://wordwulf.com
WordWulf
Inquiries: tracy@traceliteraryagency.com & wordwulf@wordwulf.com
© artwork & words conceived by & property of Tom (WordWulf) Sterner ©
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~Tempered By the Woman Without~

10/02/2011

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Picture
~Letters from the Monastery of My Heart: II~

~there are times you wake up~
~when you haven’t yet been to sleep~
~lost to the moon’s dictation as tides~
~murder in your blood~
~riding the storm~
~the bad sister’s face in the mirror won’t drop~

~Tempered By the Woman Without~  

Memories call my attention to the moon.  Reluctant to follow my heart so recently exiled to the roam, I stare at a single blind window facing east, imagine mad dogs in the yard, consider the other portal door, icicles’ frigid need to pierce my feet in the night.

My heart is a lonely wanderer.  It listens to the howling voice of winter wind threatening to enter the room.  It was cold the day I left her in the tiny city of the owls.  Wisdom has bitten my love dreams in half.  I am lost in a labyrinth of pain. 

The teacher warned her students, “Beware that your noodle poems do not bite you.”  She knew a man who drowned in the soup of himself.  Photographs are mind whips to the lonely, reminders of that other reality.  I have gathered my tablets in piles, an impenetrable wall of words. 

Digging through papers, a card fell in my lap.  It was a note from my mother begging forgiveness and too late now.  I speak desperately to her box of ashes.  Is it shameful for a man to weep?  There are seven levels of revenge the winds of time disregard. 

There’s the moon I shared with her.  It captures my eyes, draws them through a wintry haze of clouds.  I have stood too long in the yard trapped ‘neath this masque of ice.  Where have they taken my princess, the lightning of our desire.

When eyes close and hands reach, what nimble creatures of habit they are, open on empty and holding without.  Their disappointment is a near-step to misery.  They torture the mind that made them so.  A spirit of darkness invades and slips away with our dreams. 

http://wordwulf.com
WordWulf
Inquiries: tracy@traceliteraryagency.com & wordwulf@wordwulf.com
© artwork & words conceived by & property of Tom (WordWulf) Sterner ©
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