jakecaller Posted January 13, 2019 Share Posted January 13, 2019 two dark poems from my college days published in Rosset Maleficarum https://rosettemaleficarum.wordpress.com/2017/10/30/depressed-morbid-nights-by-john-cosmos-aller/ Depressed Morbid Nights One of these depressed, depraved, morbid nights I shall awake to the God damned game of life And sit under the graying light Of the foolish full moon And laminate upon my luminance And chew up the garments of past lives And cry my soul But no one will hear the plight of my mind On strike for better wages And more love Thus, I will sit, and think and dream Dreams that no one ever before dreamt It is so very lonely being a foolish lunatic But then as I drink to oblivion I begin to think Of all those things that I have not experienced And wonder with a vengeance Why God hates me so Or is it only an illusion? When will I awake Or do we just sit waiting for more beer To cover up The stench of putrid rotting flesh Waiting for death to take us away To the Cosmic garbage dump in the sky Trying to communicate across a gap That is light years’ long And will never close For man was not made to know The real thoughts of another Man was made to suffer, cry and wait For the party in Hell afterwards Shit, let’s us die and be done with it Or live without our God damned dreams Running our thoughts Into pits of depraved madness Early Morning Thoughts Early in the midst of a chaotic frenzy I caught the fragrance of her sweat grin And my heart did a swirling spin When I saw that vision of erotic delight There I stood Alone in a somehow too dismal room Full of vibrant people I knew not what to say So, I spent that dismal day Thinking dismal morbid thoughts of lugubrious doom Thoughts what might happen that day And what might have been if I had the courage to say Hello Thus, it went Years after ever melancholy year Days after ever gloomy days Nights of self-induced torture Months of nightly rancid beer There it went Now I am sitting and thinking Thoughts so gloomy I still don’t know Life belongs to the living Not to the morbid mystic dreamers Nor the poets dying Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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