Saturday, March 30, 2013

Order Out of Chaos

Order Out of Chaos

Images of a pain filled sky accent
the faded taste of midnight's company as
memories of purity mock my house of sin

Mistakes magnify the shame of loss
and pull me under sheets of perdition
where time sluggishly tics infinite regret

Nowhere to go but deeper in the black water
No one to tell but the cold universe of self
as an audience responds with desolate laughter

I struggle against a web of imperfections to
shake loose the dew of my dawn and stave off
a desire to exhale forever and give way to entropy

But my thirst can never be fully quenched
with a demanding reflection of humanity
staring back at me with a scientific methodology

But the comfort of chaos is always around the corner
where she awaits in dreams promising a hazel shelter
and an auburn blanket of delusion and perpetual longing

-allen masterson

©2013 JerryAllenMasterson

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

A Butcher Knife and Pasted Wings

The knife in my chest was self inflicted.

Before the last beat of my heart I told you
there would never be another.

Shortly after my death, my corpse was caged;
kept away from eyes of disappointment, and left to ponder
the quandaries of cruelty, wallow in the past
just to escape the madness of the present.

I dreamed of you and the mechanized purgatory
that paid the bills, but cost us our identities.
Some nights, when violence filled the air, I imagined
your taste to trade one hell for another, isolation for quiet sorrow.

While you were dancing with robots,
I conversed with maniacs about the fall
of Rome and the con of the ever-shrinking
Little Debbie snack cake.

While you were pulling the wings off another factory fly,
I watched rapists walk out the door with sickness in their eyes
and minds scorching the Earth with flames of violence and sex.

The days of my death have long passed, but you still visit me
through the veil of sleep to remind me there will never be another like you
to pull my wings off and coax me over a cliff.

So now you’re the farthest you’ve ever been;
I’ve lost your smell, and your laugh is fading.
One night soon, I will make my escape with new wings grown.
I will break my promise to you, and breathe deep from the life of Mystery.

-allen masterson

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Seeking the Zombie Cure

Fractal geometry surrounds melting fear as a program falters due to excessive ego output. Gaskets spring leaks, hydraulics of emotions buckle under the stress of heartbreak and third eye calcification. Delivery of dimethyltryptamine has ebbed to the point of disconnection as our host lay dying in an inescapable nightmare of physical reality; doomed to daily doses of bullshit and monotony. Punch clocks and baffle gates log the moments of misery as hollow eyes seek company in machine reflections rippling on crystal waters washing up on shores of decay. A cure must be sought; an altered state, a back door ingestion purchased from a dealer in the alleyway...

-allen masterson