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To Sting the Beekeper (2022)

Made each slight sting

A swarm of bees.

Polluted the pollen

By poisoning the seed

But claimed my garden

An inhospitable ground.

Plumped up the flock

To fatten the bait

And let your beasts

Bite their teeth into swollen necks

But said what do you expect

When you let them all roam free.


Gluttony (2022)


Where there are open wounds

You pour in my demise.

A thick sludge seeping from

Slices deep, stings more than salt.

Dead sea flows in veins

To submerge a heart in waters, ice cold.


The new world you built

From the scraps of mine.

Buildings tearing through the sky

Like gaping flesh

While homes are caked in

Mud; dust; ash,

And house no more.


Living rooms fragments

That protrude from the ground

Like sweating warts on cracked skin.


Bedrooms infected with

Maggots and flies and crawling insects.


Kitchens festering rotting food

And bags and bags and bags

Of rubbish piled up like towers.


Greedy to take it all

And leave me with nothing.


A selfish appetite that

Cannot be quenched.


I will go on hunger strike

And disintegrate into bone


While you continue to eat the world.


Angelic (2019)

one day feathers did sprout

from her shoulder blades

that parted like the red sea

besides her spine.

oh, how they grew.

matted with tissue, blood, bone;

interweaved with threads

that pumped with what life was left.


in their growth

took the air and space

that cocooned her flesh.


tendrils of calcium and red

seeped and moulded together

to form two shapely limbs;

two halves of one whole.

in those separate parts

scarlet plumes fluttered.

leather-black scales

carved in the cavities between.


the wings could hold their own

and take the violent winds

that gusted through the brisk.


on the morning hour

a pounding of thunder

echoed in the sweat of her forehead

where openings in her skin

bled through like the nails of sin.

two points as sharp as serpents’ tongues

curled upwards and spun

from her aching wounds.

the horns of a lustful goat

in the face of the sun.


more days poured by

like the fractured hands

of a tired clock

mending the passage of time.


but the wings grew in size and strength

taking to skies and beyond

the blackened silk cloth

that hid burning stars,

and clasped secrets in fingertips.


the night the sun

transformed to a red moon

she felt her fancies hunger.

she tore through horizons;

sore splendid distances.

but her body only cried

for a feeding

that would never tame.

and she cried crimson tears

and coated the youthful glow

of her cheeks

that would mark her

for eternity.

but the longing had only



a parasite where love

had once consumed her.


at sunrise


she had caved


to her animalistic appetite.


and in her gluttony

mangled his neck.

snapped his skeleton

to feed off his soul.

a wicked meal

of raw meat.


her eyes glassed over,


red dripping

from her grimaced mouth.

crazed in ecstasy

as she took his ugly spirit

into her stomach.


she danced around

his silent corpse

till sundown.

She charmed the moonlight

to cast a lustrous kiss

on the curves

of her angelic face.


and disappeared

into that eternal pitch

to one last time

steal the night.


I Am Home, (2021)


Don’t tear me from my wilted throne.

To splendid rule I shall rule alone,

and without much as a crown

shall bend the will of powers downed.


To have spit in a corpse’s mouth

and fill its vacant skull with doubt

as poisonous as Hades’ touch.

I shall love death just as much.


Where there is lighting, strike

the ground, blue at heart.

Enough electric in my veins

to turn those living shards to cinders.


And as you cannot bear to watch me stand

Without faltering to your wavered steps,

I will bite at the ghastly winds.

Hope the thunders snap your neck.


If perchance, you survive the rains

I’ll wish for drought. A deserts’ kiss

to dry the coarseness of your throat

so, your screams are but drowned out.


Then, only then, as you lay carved in stone

I will take to the underbelly. Drag

your moulting hair to feast upon

your bones and soul.


I am home.


Tears Are My Delight (2018)

Why are you telling me to stop crying for no reason?

Do you think I'm crying for the feeling?

Love the suffocating on my lungs,

just breaking till I'm numb,

the panic doesn't stop until I'm done.


Don't be fucking dumb.


You think I love the tears,

cutting into my cheeks,

salty sweet.

The taste familiar-wicked sadness;



A delightful treat of madness in my mouth.

My psyche split up and served upon a plate.

My palette engorging my mind.


You think I can be sustained by such a meal?

Oh, flesh and bones so deprived they cannot grow.

You cannot be so ignorant to tell me that

it is hunger I do not know.

Then take over my body, walk in my footprints-

I can assure you, you'd fall the first step,

trip over and break your leg.

Amuse me-walk in my shoes.

Let's see if you don't bruise

and falter in the place where you stand.


And tell me (after enduring that path),

when you reach the end, the bitter end,

if you'd choose to walk that path,

that very path, once again.


Confession (2018)


Do you know what it's like to have the superpower of words

But the inability to use them.

Unless on paper with pen

or structured; rhymed

Or intertwined in prose.

The pen is mightier than the sword;

The words are sharper

and cut the inside of my mouth.

Get caught in my throat.

Get stuck in the scars when I speak

That never will close.

My words, they can heal me.

They can




But in the end

will kill me.


Fear (2016)


You are the fear, in all its likeness.

You cause destruction to all that you see,

Like a lightning bolt in a storm

That seeps its power onto the weak.

You are a flower

But you not by its graceful blossoms,

But rather its deceiving thorns.

And if you were an ocean

People would not wonder at your possibilities

But tremble at your unknowns.


The Shattered Glass (2016)

In the mist, some months have passed

Of looking in the shattered glass.

A disfigured reflection greets your eyes.

Who do you see?

A stranger? No.

The face familiar?

A friend or foe?

Not quite so.


It cannot be.

This mangled figure is quite your own.

With eyes of piercing black of night

And lips curved in fearing fright,

With cheeks coloured poison rose

And skin scarred and growing cold.

This beast

How can it be?

In your skin

Breathing free.

Is it unknown?

This intruder? No.

This beast has a name

And this name, you own.

Withered and faded, memories

Entombed in the cracks of your mind

Seeping out in their darkened cries.

And then, like that, it came to show

What happened those dear months ago.

We saw the truth

You knew the lies

Hidden? No

Just not quite known

That everyone

In this dear, dear world

Both future, present and the distant past

Is the disfigured beast in the shattered glass.


Darkness (2016)

Where there is darkness, they reap and seep with haunting eyes that glow in sadness. Hunted down, beaten and ridiculed by their own madness. Of such strange delight in peering through broken glass, to be bearing of a shadow that vastly lasts in your heart. Yes, the black pit you call your heart, which could not be further apart from reality; the reality that ceases when you are upon it. Do you exist as a figure of your pleasant dreams? Or a beast of crawling nightmares that frightens peace? Where in the world does your wilting, whining whirl of a soul perch itself? Admit its fearing unknown onto us all?

In this vast existence, plagued by entities of far wide breaches into sorrow, pain is lasting beyond tomorrow. You are the pain of yesterday, days to come; past hits and miseries, tortured down to fit. Yet you could not fit, not like us all. An immense omniscience of lifeless stance and where you glance, those would shatter.

As if you matter.

Not at all. Don't even think it, or feel it, or wish it. Don't even believe it for a minute. You are worthless in all degrees of humanity; no beauty resonates with your smile. A half grin that seeps upon your face is madness for the rest of us. Don't forget: you are in darkness, when we are in light. I would not forget that you are a cold stone amongst the dazzling ablaze of fire.

Don't forget.

Don't believe.

But remember: the reader of this poem is you.


Red (2016)


A calm collected breeze passes through,

To which she hears a sudden, sadistic whisper

Heightened by the fury in her mind. It pierces

Into her skull and she hears it solemnly.

Then ignited, fury burns in her eyes like a

Furnance, burning, burning, burning.

Its scorching glow a warning: to strike a

Match is to strike one’s heart quicker

Than a tiger leaping through the grass.

Dead. The prey is caught,

Caught between knife-like jaws

Dripping in what only can be

described as crimson brass, the prey

Is dead, the fire lasts. And to what knowledge

Did her prey not see? That it was the cause of

Her wrath, and tempers burning free? Oh, for

Ignorance is weak, one must know better than

To bring oil where flames do grow; now nothing else remains.

But the ashes in her soul.


Vow (2016)


This I promise you,

to you I swear.

From the bottom of my broken heart,

from the corners of my blackened soul,

While you are richer and I am poorer.

In sickness and in death,

In pain and in sorrow.

To have and to let go,

because you could not hold on.

Never for better, never for worse.

For as long as I am dying,

until my breath do us part.

For as long as there is no God,

I shall make this vow.

I will have your life.

This I solemnly swear.

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