literature

Death to the Poet

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Daily Deviation

April 6, 2014

Death to the Poet by Emerald-Alexandria

Featured by inknalcohol

Suggested by SavageFrog

By

Emerald-Alexandria

Published: Jul 30, 2013

3.7K Views

Literature Text

"Death to the Oracles, Gypsies of Light
Who see through blindness of man and his infinite night
Through the lies of the Fates and their wriggling tales
And hear oncoming days through time's shrieks and wails

Death to the Sorcerers, Gypsies of Force
Who weave fire from breath and sing winds off their course
Who lift Earth from it's patterns and craft boisterous rain
And trap stars in their palms, and suck suns in their veins

Death to the Mothers, the Gypsies of Life
Child's Deus Ex Machina, the hunting man's wife
The bearer of Futures, the giver of Souls
Who find shadows of crisis and swallow them whole

Death to the monsters shrieking in the mind
Of the man with whom tragedy and God are entwined,
Manipulating old words to invigorate youth
Death to the Poet, The Gypsy of Truth"

Some of my other work ^_^:

Nothing to WriteI have nothing to write today.
I sat down with a thought and a pen,
Flourishing with the idea
That few things are as definite
As death, taxes, and the loss of symmetry in freshly tweezed eyebrows.
But soon, the words ceased with a skid,
And the punchlines came flat.
Here I am,
Sitting before the brisk view of the red Arizona mountains
With the sun in my hair and the sky in my smile,
Still completely dumbfounded and void of inspiration.
Perhaps I'll type a soliloquy
On the philosophy of a cactus,
And on how the sweetest fruits
Always seem to grow on sharp, dry, government-protected plant-life.
Maybe a sketch will form in my brain
Of a sonnet on the juxtaposition
Between the hummingbird's hum
And the highway's roar.
The sidewalk burns of scorching summer,
And the heavy heat deflates a sigh that sings my frustrations.
There is no poem to be seen and no prose in the winds.
There is absolutely nothing to write today.

Taboo Tattoos and LesbiansMy mother used to tell me,
As she took a long drag of stale nicotine,
That I should stay away from lesbians,
Because they would make me take up smoking.
What she didn't know
Was that I thought cigarettes would make me skinny.
And thus,
My unfounded and irrational
Fear and attraction to the utterly beautiful was born.
I had fallen for breasts before I grew my own,
and took to the internet with my misguided teachings,
as so many seem to do.
And there, in a ten-year-old's Google search for “sexy boobies”,
I found my first love.
A nameless ivory queen with a butterfly under her chest, and a tree branch on her ribs.
Similar to her explosions of fury at the idea of lesbians,
My mother had warned me about tattoos,
With threats of cancer, the plague, and the death of my first born over my head.
And as a girl with her shoelaces always untied,
who only looked one way before crossing the road,
I lived on the dangerous side of life and was naturally smitten.
The

If Shakespeare Had a Facebook PageIf Shakespeare had a Facebook page
Would he “Like for Jesus” or “Ignore for Hell”?
How many likes would his sonnets catch,
And would “Macbeth” be received well?
Would the rose smell just as sweet
if no one read it in a tweet?
And would he come up with the truth after a year,
that “Hell is empty and the devils are here”?
Would he whore for likes and friend requests?
Share his results for every personality test?
And post a “Teen Quote” for every day?
Would he be caught up with his anime?
Do you think he'd enjoy RoosterTeeth's channel,
Post selfies in snapbacks and Nike’s and flanel?
Would his pants sag and his status read:
“#Yolo420, Legalize Weed?”
Maybe he'd dye his hair green and spike up the ends
Maybe him and Mark Twain would be #Bestfriends.
Would this 90's kids generation steal the show,
Or would he be the same Bill we used to know?

Red Riding Hood's CabaretA dancing girl with fiery hair,
Twirling smoke around her finger
Dances in darkness for a sea of howling wolves
Unclothed, her emptiness is put on stage
To burn in the spotlight
As claws scratch at the floor
She plucks a hot cigarette from one of the fingers
Puts it to her lips and takes a warm sultry drag
"Look, but don't touch" she mutters,
Stepping just close enough for a claw to rip into her thigh
And she whispers into the snarling crowd
"What more do you want?"
as her hips and crimson lips rock smoothly and tempt softly
And while her legs move, her eyes dance and smile,
Unsolvable mazes of golden brown for irises.
A subtle wink gives wolves the night of their lives.
Sequins stun, glitter falls,
and the cabaret is full to burst of testosterone
Roaring with the stench of festering whiskey
But all eyes are on the girl, with a hood of scarlet hair
Tempting wolves with whispers and lies
Of a night alone with fire

When Aslan Slays the JabberwockyWhen Aslan slays the Jabberwocky,
The roar will ring out loud
It's head will roll at the Hatter's feet
And songs will snare the crowd
When Gandalf fights the Queen of Ice
Joyful Narnians will scream
White will turn from cloaks of gray
The Adams and Eves will beam
When Harry fights the Dark Lord Sauron
His wand will win the test
He'll escape from death's cold cloak
And Middle Earth could rest
When Alice battles the Basilisk
Her mighty sword will slay
And all in Hogwarts will remember well
Their savior that day

Cinderella's BunionsShe had run away the previous night
To the dark blue echo of midnight's toll
And the black thorns that pricked her path
Left her bleeding out her sole
So when he came the morning after,
Asking for the maiden of just that size
The bunions and scabs swelled her foot too large
And disgusted, he found another bride
She slept at peace in her glass coffin,
Her snow-pale radiance still so fresh
Awaiting her young daring prince
To kiss the life back to her flesh
But the witch had snared the prince already
Disguised as a raven-haired young whore
So his royal highness abandoned his quest
And thought of his princess nevermore
Trapped inside the beast's dark lair
The Beauty saw a tender heart
She thought that through his feral ways
There was love and kindness waiting to spark
But when she cut her pinkie finger
He caught a whiff of her young blood
She was dead before his jaws closed shut
Her bones left rotting in the mud

www.facebook.com/HanaKPoetry

© 2013 - 2024 Emerald-Alexandria

Comments61

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GOOD GRIEF.
that was just... so solidly delivered, so complete!
i love, love, love the last stanza!!!