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Poetry Magnum Opus

Shadows of the Subconscious


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Sun drenched alleys,

spaced between blinds;

a man removed from himself in the

dark ridges below.


Landscape of a room pale in view,

blankets made of mountains, walls of trees

interrupted by darkness of a walk-in urinal,

porcelain and white, unimportant in detail.


This Leviathan among its mountains,

head swallowed up by fault lines showing its years.

Who could this be?(sure as hell not me.)

Wrong room, wrong sheets, time and space have met,

conjugated a burn among someone faceless and in the shadows --

certainly not the shadow of the bed.


"What are you doing?"

"Go back to bed already?"

She shakes Its leg waking It up, jeans still on --

phantoms, no one at port-side where the anchor lay.


Stumbling, seeing faces rush by.

"Hi.""Oh, hey I was wondering where you went!"



Who are these people?

Faces now melding like molten coming up from the earth

becoming one with silt and igneous.


It threatens me, reaches out;

extending its reach two fold, then three.

Run --

Darkness of a room that's interrupted by a dying sun.

"That's where you went,"

this woman I don't recognize either out of darkness previously unimportant;

blonde, medium tan, naked, slim build, petite breasts.



Cut to bed, fault lines have moved,

mountains decrumpled, desolation its new pandemonium.

Glassy-eyed like an under-nourished pup bordering on scurvy.

Anemia at dawn of a new Leviathan,

this one much more violent, ragened flares counteracting alleys between blinds;

its hands at my throat, new threats to constrict air.

Turn it from Oxygen to Sulphur with its eyes and enraged touch.

Panic --

Panic --



Cut to me curled, eyes blank,

rain next to spread, somehow worse then melted faces that stare-

wake up.


by Jeremy Swyck



"Unbearable, isn't it? The suffering of strangers, the agony of friends.

There is a secret song at the center of the world, Joey, and its sound is like razors through flesh."


"I don't believe you."


"Oh come, you can hear its faint echo right now. I'm here to turn up the volume.

To press the stinking face of humanity into the dark blood of its own secret heart."

"There's a starving beast inside my chest
playing with me until he's bored
Then, slowly burying his tusks in my flesh
crawling his way out he rips open old wounds

When I reach for the knife placed on the bedside table
its blade reflects my determined face
to plant it in my chest
and carve a hole so deep it snaps my veins

Hollow me out, I want to feel empty"
-- "Being Able To Feel Nothing" by Oathbreaker


"Sky turns to a deeper grey

the sun fades by the moon

hell's come from the distant hills

tortures dreams of the doomed

and they pray, yet they prey

and they pray, still they prey"
-- "Still They Prey" by Cough


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I like where your work takes me, A-C. This one makes me think of myself on certain sun-drenched afternoons of days gone by, wondering where they went and why I'm here not there.



Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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i enjoyed how you set this scene. good job.

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