CemeterySound Poetry

[o'queery]

I dug up
Your letters
from
the mortuary
of my nightstand

Behemoth piles
mocked me
with it's
obsidian print

Bold
Cruel

Each envelope
I fingered
rippled my heart
with
earthquakes
as the subterfuge
of verbs
destroyed me

Covered the Raven
in
Dust

Like clockwork
I follow sick
protocol
Shoving and screaming
them back
to the tomb
of my drawer
Aching for release

But I
am
cursed
to hold on
for just one
last
read

[o'queery]

Another night in
the Cemetery

Snow drifts
down like a sea
of white noise

Enveloping Your
silence..


my fears



I rub
my fingers across
Your name

The colours have
faded so much
like your breath

And

The tears just roll
icy velvet curtains
down my dirty
cheeks

Broken shovels
lay at my feet
abandoned

From hands
too splintered with despair,


to keep digging
up his shame

This murder
of you falls still..


lifeless against my
words

Your essence touches this air so much

It's cold and I
fúcking miss You

[o'queery]

You opened my chest

prying apart skin
and
bone to get a
glimpse of my heart

The scalpel incising
the love
within me
coaxing the beat to
thump and
thump

Red ripe and sweet is
my lust and
with no menu of choices
You order it raw

Hands reach inside
and Oh! What a
lovely pull
on the strings
that hold all of my
secrets

Your beautiful crimson
smile dines
hungrily on my passion
and dreams
tucked inside of
Your fist

Eat my heart out

[o'queery]

The walk here was
perfectly
painful

Each step reeking
of wells
and the Daffodil's You
sent out of spite on
a Tuesday of last winter

My eyes fill with
the ruddy bricks
of yesterdays anger


Splintered Runes
fly beneath my wicked boots
that helped me run
away from You

Without sound


Devoid of panicked
teary goodbye's
I won't let you see my
coward heart as
I pass you by


Hot cheeks flaming
with the Phoenix
I promised you'd be
if you only trusted in me

In you

In us

I raise my middle finger
to the lightless sky
A gesture that I'm known
so well for

(My M.O these days)

I suck in stale air
as I quicken my footwork
Jumping on the # 7 to pray
I won't break into a million little pieces


Maybe next time

[NitroChrys_Butch]

Originally Posted by o'queery

You opened my chest

prying apart skin
and
bone to get a
glimpse of my heart

The scalpel incising
the love
within me
coaxing the beat to
thump and
thump

Red ripe and sweet is
my lust and
with no menu of choices
You order it raw

Hands reach inside
and Oh! What a
lovely pull
on the strings
that hold all of my
secrets

Your beautiful crimson
smile dines
hungrily on my passion
and dreams
tucked inside of
Your fist

Eat my heart out

Brings new meaning to "I've got you under My skin." To know someone on this level only happens once in this lifetime. I do believe.

[o'queery]

Trapped inside the
feathered silence
of Your smile
I falter

Shaky trouble and
clefts
that refuse to hide
his excuses
anymore

A cage of
metal mirrors
nestled
between
broken sunshine

Putrid rain that paints
Your corpse upon my hands
in hues of canary
yellow
and blood
orange dead

I am blinded by fear

and

filth

and

cemetery birdsongs

Tripping on
a beak
full of foul notes and
haunting whomever will
listen to me
and my pain

In those unhinged sighs beaneath the bars of
Your dirty fingers is
where I will find
rest

Touching the wings of severed harmony
and
explode into the
sky

[o'queery]

It's morning again sweet self,

Sitting at the
crest of this beach full of heartbeats
I wonder what ever became of love..

The space between
those
tender moments
of
frustration and glee

Where I dropped my tomb linens

and


sang to You by
the fire of
my verbs

I saw it all

Like the tattoos
on my
forearms speak
volumes
in pictures
of depth to fragile for most


But not
You

I give love
like the wave that crashes
it's body to
the sand

And for once

I would like to be loved like that too

Always reaching into
empty oceans


but still finding shells/
dollars made of sand-
orange stars of acceptance for who I am

It's liquid my poems...

A beacon of hope in wasted times where
love doesn't come first
or


last to some

I eat the air
A delicious consumpiton
of strength
to empower me

and


Eyes wide as the escaping Moon,
hungry as ever I smile

Good morning boy

[o'queery]

For You have
been
a brilliant star

my own
beacon of white
light upon
some
of my most
darkened painful
winter hazes

Consistant
in Your
craft of support
enabling me
to grow

from beneath
the megaphone
of Your praise

Each word pushing
me
into wanting to
be better

Than I already
within
my heart
know
that I am

In this.. I aspire.

[NitroChrys_Butch]

Originally Posted by o'queery

It's morning again sweet self,

Sitting at the
crest of this beach full of heartbeats
I wonder what ever became of love..

The space between
those
tender moments
of
frustration and glee

Where I dropped my tomb linens

and


sang to You by
the fire of
my verbs

I saw it all

Like the tattoos
on my
forearms speak
volumes
in pictures
of depth to fragile for most


But not
You

I give love
like the wave that crashes
it's body to
the sand

And for once

I would like to be loved like that too

Always reaching into
empty oceans


but still finding shells/
dollars made of sand-
orange stars of acceptance for who I am

It's liquid my poems...

A beacon of hope in wasted times where
love doesn't come first
or


last to some

I eat the air
A delicious consumpiton
of strength
to empower me

and


Eyes wide as the escaping Moon,
hungry as ever I smile

Good morning boy

Love is a powerful thing. It can hurt. It can heal. It can make you feel worthless or it can lift you up and show the One who returns it what a precious thing you are. It is powerful. And it certainly does make one "hungry".

[NitroChrys_Butch]

Originally Posted by o'queery

I dug up
Your letters
from
the mortuary
of my nightstand

Behemoth piles
mocked me
with it's
obsidian print

Bold
Cruel

Each envelope
I fingered
rippled my heart
with
earthquakes
as the subterfuge
of verbs
destroyed me

Covered the Raven
in
Dust

Like clockwork
I follow sick
protocol
Shoving and screaming
them back
to the tomb
of my drawer
Aching for release

But I
am
cursed
to hold on
for just one
last
read

I, too, have re-read letters. Reading slower hoping that when I ended, the outcome would be different. That somehow the words would have been changed with time. That I was mistaken and did not read what had been written. Time changes nothing. But we are stronger for it.