Note: This material may be offensive to some. Children especially are encouraged to not read the poems in this particular post. (All of my other posts, so far, are okay for general audiences, I must stress.)
Convulsively Spilled:
The Blast
-----------
The blast exudes its nonconformity. And it is
Frustrated by its clangorous confinement. But yet
This irradiant tangle explodes; it thrusts its hues
Forth into such a lustful mandala. Oh, expressed
Is the thunderous evisceration. Expressed is that
Scream of manic and voluminous havoc. Outwardly,
The flame is triumphant. Oh, gaseous stains and
Crumbled truth, they both are transformed via
This enigmatic anger. And all is returned anew
To the center of spirals. All is made taboo; yet
Even these whispers are singed.
Perpendicularly, the heat vanquishes us.
For force and tribulation are compounded,
Are our ruptured and torn condemnation. For the
Blast is our purpose. And our death only reiterates
The hatred endured by purity, reiterates the purity
Endured by this fire coarsely and destructively
Mispronounced.
==============
Rape Of The Succubus
--------------------------
The rape of the succubus:
Among the mind's divergent edges, I tangle
Within such a whispered dream. And she
Pronounced the screams of subtle air so as
To fall upon the obtuse floor. And there
Her nudity flung me forward, pulling me onto
The filth we denounce. And I fell above her,
Toppled into her imagined convexity. And
I felt such constriction never before extracted
From any prior reality. Ah, and breath withdrew
Before I, before this dimness savaged us both.
And ecstasy spoke of its demanding hallucinations,
Of its curvaceous fissures each deepened
By their own shallowness. And then, then
This sleep betrays me, and such pleasures
Become the cosmic sweat, become the succubus
And her own dreams sullied.
......................
A Darkness More Violent
-------------------------------
Upon that earth was beget
The shit of Satan.
Upon our world came
Humanity.
And it evolved to become killers,
To become mass-murderers.
It evolved to be perverted,
Never to be satiated.
And it fancied itself intelligent.
So intelligent was it that it hated
And destroyed all that it considered
Not quite as smart.
This, it thought, was a wise thing to do.
It believed itself correct in all assumptions,
So correct that many who disagreed
Were tortured and exterminated.
And it attacked that beautiful world
Unto which the shit of Satan fell.
It destroyed that world.
And it seethed at its own reflection,
For it knew deep within its collective soul
That it was vile,
In spite of all the virtue
It convinced itself that it had.
And so it turned on itself
And imploded into a black hole,
A point of infinite hatred and villainy
And a darkness more violent
Than even that humanity, that horrid humanity,
Could have ever conceived of.
......................
The Murderer
-----------------
The soul feasts sometimes upon its desires,
Upon its thoughts pondering exactly what
It wants to commit, what it wants to take.
Oh, I am not a killer. I have not the gall.
But that fool, that idiot, he is pure evil.
And to eradicate that demon from our world,
Eliminate him somehow in any way,
This would be a saintly act, not a sin.
To do this deed, so out of character
For a man as pure as I, to pull the trigger,
This would be expected of me, wouldn’t it?
And wouldn’t the priests and gods concede
That I must finally act out the fantasy,
Make it real, act on that obsession
Which has haunted me and my concentration?
If I were to do this, do what is necessary,
I would have to be very dedicated,
Be precise, careful, exact in this execution.
For death is a terrible means to an end;
But sometimes this is a sad inevitability,
The sweet song
Sung by innocents wronged.
And the pistol would be raised, as in toast
To virtue’s ultimate victory.
And the powder would explode, the bullet fly
Into that vile flesh, shredding it bloodily
And beautifully.
Yes, I am the assassin of that monster,
The executioner who murders the murderer
For the benefit, the good, of my righteous anger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Malignancy
-----------
Such selfishness burst. Then the fluids gushed
Forth from our innocence. And we
Drank of these amniotic droplets. We drank of
The rancid flames. And we screamed the
Words without definition. For our desires were
To cut into the minds of our hatred,
Into the guts of our pompous enemies. For,
They were, as we, belligerent. They were,
As we, despicable and human. Oh, we tore
Apart their tantrums. And we begat the stains
Of that timid gore. We were murderers, but yet
We were not. For, murderers have purpose
In their vile obscenity. They have conclusion.
But we, we kill for misguided reasons; because
We believe the lies, even when we know of their
Inaccuracies; because we retell the parables of
The malicious scripture, of the malignancy
Infusing our indulgences.
+++++++++++++
Afterthought: I should note, especially to those in law-enforcement who are monitoring my blog, none of these poems are meant to be taken literally. I am NOT a murderer, an assassin, a terrorist, or a rapist. (Trust me.)
Leroy Quet
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