Gidgey's Poetic Inferno

[Gidgetisms]

So, I decided I wanted all my poems in one place, preferably somewhere my scattered mind would know, so here. Gallery a la shit!
NOTE: A word to the wise, it is dark, it is depressing. Please don't read or comment if that's something you can't handle.

I am not yet born, shower me
With human comfort, support, a loving embrace
And a family to laugh with
And with a loving hand to nurture me

I am not yet born, save me
From myself, from people slinking in the
Dark, from hard times, from wise lies
And people who enslave me

I am not yet born, teach me
Of beautiful things yet to come, of hearts
And souls and of feelings inside me
And of kindness to reach me

I am not yet born, lead me
Through trials and troubles, through thick
And thin, through life, through death
And always need me.

********************************************************

A clarion call fills the air
Louder than the guns and screams around
Unrelenting, gruesome, the Piper calls
Rows of khaki dancing behind
And still the bloody dance continues
No one who hears can resist his song
Marching over the hills merrily
Only when the guns fall silent
Will his pipe finish its deadly cry

********************************************************

A mark upon her forehead
Labeled in indelible ink
Invisible to the world
Glaring to her eyes
Scarlet on white
A mark upon her forehead
Forever scarred and ruined
A landscape of regret
Grey and deadly
Ink on skin
A mark upon her forehead
A knife across her throat
Darkness pushing her under
Light piercing her through
Light and shadow
A mark upon her forehead
A chain to the ground.

***************************************************

The angel of mercy has fallen
In a hail of unmarked graves
Her body resides with unknown soliders
Her power and life she freely gave
In shallow trenches, choked with mud
In empty screams heard no more
A wave of gunfire the only sound
Reverberating over the dead land
A sea of crosses, the spoils of war
The angel of mercy, dead by our hands.

****************************************************

If I had died today
Would there be mourners at my graveside
Would tears feed the loose packed soil
And grief rip through the air?

If the blade tasted my blood
Would my heart bleed itself dry
Would it flow freely over my body
Or escape in a puff of dust?

If my breath escaped forever
Would the earth embrace me
Would I find the solace I need
Choked beneath your footsteps?

If I could silence my voice
Would I be alone forever
Would the absence kill me and
Exorcise this demon in one?

******************************************************************

A faded memory
Dim with age
Of gentle blue eyes
Set in a face of stone
Proud and strong, and humble
A warmth exuded
My last memories
Tempered with loss

A pearl memory
Rose with time
Of a tall rigid figure
Mouth crinkled in a smile
As we put the flowers to bed
My last memories
Coloured with love

A pure memory
Buried and treasured
Words infused with hope and pain
Conveying his strength, his hope
A whisper of tears behind him
My last memories
Purified by loss.

**********************************************


More will follow once I find them. Maybe.

[Auremena]

I like them. Very different from "traditional" poetry. You're much too hard on yourself dearie.

[Yoite]

Delightfully grim

Particularly The Angel of Mercy

[Lackadaisical2]

I liked the last one for its repetitive element. The structure was good.

[Hladgos]

Gidge, I need to write a poem for you. I love your talent!

[Gidgetisms]

Alone is better

With these thoughts cluttering my head

But I would rather

Have someone chase away the words I said

Now I stare at walls

The same four walls that imprison me

Instead of being

Instead of allowing my mind to be free

And it's my fault

I never braved my demons

It's my fault

I bury myself alive.

I fight the words

That script behind my eyes again

Can't you help

These words I chant remain

I know that I

Built this wall around myself

And I just can't

Pretend I'm not destroying myself

And it's my fault

I never fought back again

It's my fault

I'm battered and broken.

I pray the words

Rhyme and rote, words of hearts

But I still fear that

I can't tear the bad in me apart

And I know that

I may fight a losing battle inside

I may lose myself

The best thing to say is I died

And it's my fault

I didn't try hard enough

It's my fault

I never was that tough.

[Mozzissey]

As a poet myself (and recently published as well in a little chapbook with my friend's who do poetry), I have great respect for fellow poets. Great, wonderful, and lovely work

[Gidgetisms]

Row upon row of unknown march by

Faceless, nameless in the eye of the crowd

Thin backs bowed by years of turmoil

Each a monotony, grey and overworn

Not daring to go against the Supreme Will

They willingly follow, chains weighted down

They tread soundlessly into the maw of the abyss

Sacrificing themselves to the name of Conformity