Grief Paints Herself Void of Substance

 

Hearts distended,
termites feed
my emotional wooden cocoon.

In time unfurled.
Color will vaporize
on heavy lidded sunset.

Tears of saudade,
covet what belongs
trapped in perfidy.

Grief paints herself empty of faith.
Weeping statues dissolve marble;
only traces remain void of substance.

Tornados sob.
Everything wise dead.
Innocence & beauty
withers her philosophy away.

Tension snakes across wires.
Holding us from falling sideways –
lightning casts’ dark skies
stages without masters.

Billion voices atrophy.
Mr. Mirror image
pull the strings from flesh,
happiness cafard,
flowers anorexic.

All things
Stand looking at themselves.
Still against shroud
as we are,
we are no more.
Roll the film
to empty audience.

Sunshine unzips
its complexion;
behind it a sad destiny –
waiting to be held
waiting to wail.

For who among us –
Shelled and pulled, could
in scourge of truth know
Tenderness by our inchworm;
climb to itching greed.

Staple gun my everlasting woe.
Hammering our breath,
teeth wrinkle of weary,
alone we request.

Spiked baptism
wetting the brows
of unadorned novices,
knelt in piqued splendor
Come the Christendom.

A Cyclops ram
howls unexpectedly.
Drenching in agony
without volumes;
tragic heeds ahead.

Wings of leather
Darken skies bled of iron,
Herald.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet & Candice Louisa Daquin

All rights Reserved.

No part of Grief Paints Herself Void of Substance – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and Candice Louisa Daquin works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

 

This is our 2nd collaboration
with my coolest sister Candice Louisa Daquin.

A very different theme challenge
about emotions, something new in poetry,

something special about 2 minds bringing forth an
eclectic heart and feel that comes from within.

My sister and I, feel so proud of this work.
I hope her and I collaborate again.
She’s an inspiration and an influential.

Please pay her site a visit. She’s writes the best poetry ever written.

https://thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/

 

 

 

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When the World Stops They Listen

 

For my grandpa David. R.I.P I love you papa and I miss you.

 

To his breath stampede
of skeleton pennies,
blowing out earth’s detail –
its ocean plea resuscitation
its pulse hyperventilating like Buddha,
inquietude resounds.

The dream self concatenated
a haven planet
surrounded by phantom birds.
An abrupt sob: ‘Where are we going’?

To his breath
the world stopped.
And the choir rain
anthems a warning.
They listen
as the oracle fret.

Mama…I love you.
The winged lips poetry –
said the dusk ocarina dove,
floriferous heart
balloon notation Zen.

To his breath
of minutes slipping,
mankind repented.
Tide fangs closing in
and the air itself waved goodbye.

 

 

*Note: It’s been 1 month since my grandpa’s passing. It’s been hard and painful. I think about him a lot and I miss him. I know he’s in a better place with all our loved ones. This poem was very difficult for me to write.

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of When the World Stops They Listen – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Dead Film Sleepers


Snuff torture man-made video tape

surgeons bludgeon the sensitive ape.
We are god’s favorite imperfect mistake
The American bible burn on a stake.
I’m ashamed, me human suit of a man
stale ignorance fuck the Ku Klux Klan.
What I see in the news it makes me cry
hope is a whore nobody wants to try.
My honesty flares through zero caffeine
subliminal messages rot, next scene.

 

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Dead Film Sleepers – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Bitter Feminist Inflates the Ego in Her Pride


My opinions don’t matter said the angry feminist

she’s extremely sensitive, I worry for the therapist.
Your bloated ego doesn’t match your personality
Hanging out with you is an awkward snap hostility.
I’m a human being who believes in friendship equality
your irrational temper stings like a dictator authority.
Look in the mirror, is this what you want to become?
If you want peace in your life, fight for it overcome.
Our conversations cut short; you easily get offended
I try making small talks, the look in your face irritated.
I’ll stop talking now; you’re always shutting me out
your attitude needs adjustments, this I highly doubt.

 

 

Note: The poem you just read was based on true life personal experiences.
Have you ever felt – that your opinions don’t matter to anyone? You try your best to communicate across that individual, but you’re immediately cut off from even taking a breath. The tone in their voice is guarded
with anger, frustration, ‘We are always right and you are always wrong’. Do you get a sense of George Orwell’s, 1984?
Big Brother telling me to shut up! Your opinions are irrelevant.
Big Brother (metaphorically speaking) is the bully who wants
to restrict you of your human knowledge.

To my WordPress friends, I hate being silent by the outside world,
for this I must watch what I say, truth feels like a waste, it’s unfair don’t you think?

 

Copyright © 2016 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of The Bitter Feminist Inflates the Ego in Her Pride – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Friends Share the Same Suicide


We are the outcast –

the ones you’ve tortured, laughed at,
abused, humiliated.
You’ve pushed us into a corner –
fingers pointing
making a total mockery of our misery.

I once believed in hope
just like everyone else.
Mr. Society took my childhood
drowned it in a pool of feces.

My soul is a ticking clock
waiting to slip away.
Do you know what it feels like
to walk with your own casket?
Do you know what it feels like
to be in someone else is shoes?
Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.

The pain consumes me
Isolation comforts me.
You and I can share the same suicide,
share the same scars, share the same vulnerability,
and share the same cruelty.

Hug your best friends
Hug your family
the best times of your life
will come to a collision.

I cry in deaths shoulders
because no one ever listens.
I cry myself to sleep
because god was just a fucking illusion.

 

————————————————————————————————–

Anti-Bullying Awareness Month

This poem was written a couple of years back, when I was at my most vulnerable state. In other words – my PTSD kicked in. Flash backs of my past get triggered by verbal abuse, bullying, ignoring me, etc…etc.
I was a victim of bullying as far as I can remember. I use to feel suicidal, felt like the world didn’t listen to me, or didn’t want to be my friend. Those days are long gone now. I’m a new changed person, with my beautiful girlfriend who I love very much…and she’s been very supportive of me throughout the 5 years that we’ve been together. She’s also, supportive of my poetry works. I’d also like to give a super special thanks to Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, if it wasn’t for you music of hope, I would not be here today.

If you know something who is feeling alone, sad, and with no friends. Please give them a hug, tell them that they are not alone. This poem is for the outsiders, genders, metal-heads, goth kids, everyone else who feels what I felt.

And a super-sonic thanks to all my poet friends here on WordPress for being such great souls and passionate brilliant writers.

Every single one of you has brought a big smile, influence on me and my writing.

Thank you. 

Copyright © Charlie Zero

All rights Reserved.

No part of Friends Share the Same Suicide – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero and his poetry works with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.