Howling Madly

[wolfbittenpoet]

Inkstains
One by one words fall
From shaking fingers
Inkstained by memories unsaid
Written in a fading hand
Unaware the pen has run out
Scribbled on the back of envelopes
Til the space is gone and the words remain
Always the words remain
Tattooed on the soul
Inkstained memories burning with unlit passions
And half contained madness
Just trying to bleed through
Until even your eyes are inkstained red
From liquid tears splattering on the floor
Leaving tearmark tragedies

[wolfbittenpoet]

Ghosts
I watch the mirror
Expecting to see the ghosts of myself
Each a little different
Each still the same
Grading me on the man I am becoming
Each haunting with the girl, the boy, the changeling I was
I watch expecting a glimmer of a different face
But they are all me
They are in my eyes
Laughing and crying
Watching the world as it changes around us

[wolfbittenpoet]

I am not the road traveler
I am no Kerouac
Though I know his ghost
I am the mad eyed poet
Forever lost
Howling to a universe
That does not know how to listen
Banging my head against a wall of bureacracy
Too scared to find the door
I am not the underpaid overworked poor
I am the man who lives on goverment checks
And air
A whole lot of air
I am not the wandering lover
I am the midnight whisper in the air
The howl of ghost wolves on the wind
The secret that only the stars know
And only the moon will ever tell

[Diva]

I have subscribed to this....You ARE very Kerouackian!! <smile>

[wolfbittenpoet]

Burn, Burn, Burn
I know not what else to do
I laugh at my own incompetence
Delighting in my striking madness
Dripping ink on pages typed by a typewriter
Older then me by 50 years
I listen to the sound the keys make
Tap,,,tap,,,tap... ching
Page after page after page
Meaningless letters
Go back through and correct
With bitten up pencil
And that G-d damned leaking pen
Fingers stained with progress
Or is it defeat
Murdering innocent words
Give up put it away in closet
Use computer for a while then there's delete
Don't change it now post direct
Only form of courage is hitting send
And even then it's mostly madness
But madness given form
Given breath though little depth
No crime in being shallow
As long as you admit
Now where did I put that G-d damn leaking pen
It's time to bang on the typewriter again

[wolfbittenpoet]

I watch it drip
It's all I can smell
Even the antiseptic doesn't overpower it
It's a crimson that is beautiful
I stare at it knowing it will stain
Oh well that's what peroxide is for
I lay back and turn on music
Just a couple of hours
I can handle it
Just a couple of hours
Glance at the clock
Only 15 minutes done
G-d I hate being confined like this
If you call me princess one more time
No I do not have a girlfriend yet
Even if I did I wouldn't tell you
Swallow down the near involuntary snarl of frustration
Smile glance at clock
Why the hell did I forget my computer
Try to ignore the beeps
Try to ignore the moans
Try to ignore the smell
Med time oh joy
Nausea for another day
Glance at clock
Only 10 minutes left
Okay I can handle that
Pull the needles
Damn but this always hurts
But I've had worse
Tape me up
Leave trying to ignore small talk
Oh it's finally light
Thank G-d I have a full day off
Then I go back
To ignore the copper scented hell again

[wolfbittenpoet]

Sit on the shore
Water lapping at my feet
Watching the wind change the water
Lay back palm fronds whispering
Close eyes
Ignore the call of gulls
Nap a bit
Get up stretch run
Splashing in the water
Dry off and leave
Just another day in paradise

[wolfbittenpoet]

Rain
Drip...drip...drip
Falling down from sobbing heavens
Crying for a world that knows not how to grieve
Drip...drip...drip
Splattering on the sidewalk
Tearstains of the earth
Drip...drip...drip
Endless suffering pain

[wolfbittenpoet]

Hey Mr. Kerouac
Got a question for you
Did you know what would happen?
All because of that book you wrote before 1952
Did you ever guess you'd be the voice of a crowd?
Did you know that your screams would be so loud?
Hey Mr. Ginsberg
I really loved Howl
I loved the passion the pain the...
Just wow
Could you of guessed
You'd bring the red stamps down
Or were you really just writing to make a sound
Hey Mr. Burroughs
We haven't yet met
Your voice isn't as loud as those other guys yet
I know we've got some shit in common
Maybe tomorrow I'll find you
Forgotten mustering in the stacks
And then a friendship for the ages perhaps
Beatnics Beat Sound Repitition Unscripted Prose
Different voices
Screaming Words
Painting Pictures
Making sure we all were not lost
The American Voice given sound

[wolfbittenpoet]

Tearstained tragedies
Bitter with hurt and memories
Falling onto unforgiving pavement
Where they spread finding cracks
From madness induced rage
Slamming down a sledge hammer of heartache
Mixing with inkstains from memories
There they lay staining the blood of our souls
Made real

[wolfbittenpoet]

I have a stack of vintage photographs
What used to be called french postcards
Naughty women in black and white and sepia
Heavenly creatures with sultry curves and dead eyes
Did those old pictureboxes truly take their souls?
Trapped on paper and tin
Held there as they fade
Until only crumbles of paper and dusty ink last
In the cigar box under my bed

[wolfbittenpoet]

If words were like raindrops
Noah's flood would only half approach
The untamed longing in my heart
To please my gentle lover
She who whispers in tender carresses
Inspiration
Yet I drown sometimes when cruel mistress she becomes
Trying to swallow around words
Being torn to shreds by emotion
I cannot convey
Until I lie in broken sharded sanity
Weeping ink and sobbing sonnets
A broken battered beloved
Yet still I shall crawl
On hand and knee to worship at her feet
For she is inspiration
My muse who stands hidden
A ghost in my shadow
Brave daughter of memory thy name is Calliope

[Diva]

I love "weeping ink and sobbing sonnets"......

Lovely!

[wolfbittenpoet]

I am madness
A screaming soulborn lost boy
Genderfucking anarchist with wild eyes
I hide it
Carefully conceal it
With gentlemanly ways and dark glasses
With expressive hands and 1930s grace
I am the son of my grandfather
The laughing trickster running from growing up
But desperately wanting to grow old
Saving pennies in a jar
For a life I think I'll never live
But embracing the worse of Pandora's curses
I hope

[wolfbittenpoet]

Mr Wilde just so you know
You still make young men feel
Untethered by the limitations of rigid societal obligation
You tell us we lay in the gutter
But you implore to stare at the stars
Well in paltry words and feeble phrases
I reach grasping at ink dark eternity
Where crystalline brilliance twinkles
Fighting impending madness by embracing it
And laughing in my shallowness
Still your words delight
Pervasive comprehensible dribble
But deliciously decadent in thought
Let me hide my paintings so I may live forever
Wrapped up in a serenity of words

[wolfbittenpoet]

I write in the shower
At 3 in the morning
Because I can't sleep
Little kids markers that wipe off the wall
That bleed from the spray coming off me
Sometimes I wear my clothes
Family doesn't ask anymore
Quite frankly don't want to know
It's hard to explain but it's nice
A way to let out angry jumble
Wash it down the drain
Works better then scribbling on envelopes
With a pen run dry

[Gemme]

I am madness


I really enjoyed the whole poem, but your first line is incredibly striking.

[wolfbittenpoet]

I’m screaming raging in the night
Laughing in the maddening delight
Searching for ectasy down a bottle
Breaking down insanity on typewriter keys
Sitting in the buggy humid hell
In boxers and Converse
Chest bound old school
Speedtyping oblivion
I am a trans queer madman
Lost in my own mind

[wolfbittenpoet]

I am no poet
I am a fire eyed fraud
Who taps at letters
Rambling mumbling
Incompetent
Nothing I create
Is Shakespeare
So I can not be a monkey with a typewriter
No I am ruled by emotion
So in the world of Wilde all I make is bad poetry
I have no sense of form
No concept of structure
I have never had a conversation with a comma
I am a grammatical anarchist
I am no poet
I simply sit down at a typewriter and bleed
So maybe Papa would say I'm a writer

[wolfbittenpoet]

My imagination is in a box
It sits on a shelf beside my heart in its cage
It has a lock on it
But it breaks often and escapes
Then it roams doodling on the walls
In a magic marker that won’t scrub off
It makes funny faces at me
Trying to get a response
Some days I ignore it as it babbles
Incoherent in the back of my mind
Others I embrace it and we laugh like jackals
Dancing about like we dwealt in Bedlam
And sing out the troubles of the world
For the vorpal blade to slay

[wolfbittenpoet]

He sits upon a cardboard throne
A king in a broken home
His roof a bridge
His fanfare the roaring of the trucks
He used to lounge feet up
With his buddies beside a jewel green forest
Now his only jester is a bottle
Wrapped in brown paper
He begs for coins
Lost in memories
Sometimes someone buys him a meal
He thanks them
But he'd rather drink
Numb the pain
Make life bearable
What life there is left

[wolfbittenpoet]

Am typewriter boy
In laptop world
Reinking ribbons
Staining my hands
Speedtyping in midnight hours
Smelling of sweat and correction fluid
Drinking down inspiration
Sitting with a single desklamp shining on keys
Living in the shadows
Cursing for forgetting to advance paper
Going back with red pen and bitten pencil
Making the edits
Sit it in a box and let dust gather
Before going back again for retype
In the midnight hours
Drinking down inspiration
Eating my own words

[wolfbittenpoet]

Falling off the couch
From lack of sleep
Staring at the carpet
Far too close up
Writing down halfbrain thoughts
And realizing everything I own
Inkstained
Have I fallen down the rabbithole
Or have I climbed out

[wolfbittenpoet]

Armor
Straight jacket comfort
Conceal and protect
Shifting with movement
Barely breathing
Heat
Warm fevered touch against skin
Raw
Sweat
Hugging me too tight
Safety
Makes me less and more
Pain
Temporary
Survival
Armor
Against ignorance

[wolfbittenpoet]

Dark shadows trace my walls
Childhood monsters big and small
I watch them move from the floor
I'm just too tired to fight them anymore
The big bad wolf was never scary
It was the good fairies
They changed you made you sweet and mild
Made you a beautiful oh so tasty child
Sinister in their good intent
Who goes to hell
They can all get bent
So I lay upon the floor
And wonder if I can take childhood terror anymore
I don't want to be Rose Red or Snow White
Nor a prince instead they all lose their fights
I'd rather be some poor unknown farm boy
Who becomes the dread Pirate Roberts
At least Wesley got to win Buttercup's delight

[wolfbittenpoet]

Tumble
Tumble
Tumble
Down
Down
Down
Falling
graceless
to the ground
Stand back up
Salute the sun
Smile my friend
The day is done

[wolfbittenpoet]

Lick
Salt sting broken flesh
Copper pennies on my tongue
Purr in contentment
Calm and centered
Little aches let me know I am alive
I am bound by invisible chains
I am a tiger with new stripes

[wolfbittenpoet]

I want to lick the salt off your skin
as if you were some delicious lollypop
or a dripping ice cream cone on a hot summer day
you refresh me
my dream lover
I don't even know your name
your femininity is intoxicating
you are so at ease in your own skin
you make me smile
you give me what I need
the passions I try to resist until they boil up
I delight in your phantom touches
that leave me waking in desperate need of a shower and a fuck
I head to the shower can't have everything we want all the time
then I compose luststruck memories to read later
when the dreams run cold
in my nights you give me all I could ask and more

[wolfbittenpoet]

Never before
Have I felt
So calm at peace within myself
I know not how
Except your words
Have made me know what I would
Opinions are just that
People's words mean only what we make them
All they are mosquitoes
Buzzing in our ears
And with proper care their bite will irritate not sicken
I am tired of being sickened by pests


thanks m.n. and p

[wolfbittenpoet]

Street lamp silhouettes shadow the sidewalk
Traced with chalk by childlike hearts
Laughing in madness brought by releasing pent up innocence
Embracing the little child who hides inside
Play with chalk
Hopscotch and jump rope
Tell a teddy bear your dreams
Sniffle at the monsters under the bed in the closet
A scary place to be
Be brave with a broken stick sword
And broomstick steed
You are a knight in tinfoil armor
Stronger then any forged steel by your belief
We should all still play make believe

[wolfbittenpoet]

I carress you
My fingertips tracing your curves
Loving the sounds you make for me
I smile and inhale
Heady with your scent
You work so hard to help me
I stroke you
Calling out the best of us both
I praise you
Until it is late in the night and we are both exhausted
I curse you
When you run dry of essense at awkward moments
I worship you
My midnight mistress
I fear for the day you fail me
For how will I be a typewriter boy without you
You are my beauty
My battered ancient goddess of print
My Typewriter Lover

[wolfbittenpoet]

Smelling of stale cigarettes and despair
Whiskey label somehow permanently adhered into front
Scribbles in margins
Stains of ink and graphite smudges
Humorless remarks
Not a study copy but a work of desperate madness
Blood on the edges from paper cuts
Can almost hear the hiss of a curse as the pages flip
Discard it discard it discard it
Yet still it circulates
Like a battered 1938 penny
Worn by time and rubbed smooth by nervous fingers
Read it lost as much in margin additions as original text
Is this what madness looks like
Or is this what inspiration becomes

[wolfbittenpoet]

Fingertips stained with ink from broken ballpoint pen
A mess of blue black on the desk
I want to paint swirls on the decades old calendar
But no that's childish
I am childish
So I scrawl spirals until the ink dries
I scrub at my hands until only ghosts of ink remain
Like some cleaned up Celtic warrior
Is it so wrong I want to drag the ink across my skin
Painting the designs of the gods of battle
To go off and face grocery store fascists
And green market madmen
I close my eyes and simply breathe

[wolfbittenpoet]

My tongue flicks out
Salty sweat clinging to my upper lip
Fear and shame in the drops
I push the door open
It is 90 degrees out
And I wear combat boots
For am I not going to war
Jeans splattered with mud and flecks of rusty blood
Torn out at the knees from rough asphalt
Heavy leather studded belt
A backup defense
And layers
Layers to hide that I am not what I seem
Layers to be armor
Body armor misery
On top is heavy hooded sweatshirt
Everyone knows my secret
The teachers scream it everyday
Except for a few that see the desperation in my eyes
And say my last name instead
That's safe enough
But after school and in halls I am freak
Faggot Flaming Fairy Queer
Those who yell it most I see it in their eyes
Disgust...at themselves
Because they like what they see
So I take it
Don't go to the locker when anyone is about
Don't want locker door bruises
From heads bashed into door so fast
Broke two pairs of glasses last year
Finish the day walk out
They wait till I am off the grounds and halfway home
Lay in wait to beat me up
After a while I give as good as I get
No one will ever admit they are beat up by a girl
I wish they'd say I was who broke their nose
Least then they'd accept I am not a girl
Go home bruised and bloody
Nurse the hurts
Grin around the pain
Mom says we can find another school
Dad doesn't even know too lost in his own pain
I just shake my head
A day at a time armored and ready to go
Because at least in this school I know who to punch
And who to simply smile at
Because I am a teenage freak who is happy no longer being meek

-A memory of teenage angst

[wolfbittenpoet]

Am I mad
Is this hell that I reside
A horrible torturous suffering
Meant for some past life self
Am I dieing
We are all dieing some faster then others
Most days I feel as if I am dieing by inches
Am I screaming
I can't hear myself but I know I should be
Yet no sound ever ever escapes
Am I drowning
In life in death in hell
If I am do I go to heaven
Does the hurt ever stop?

[wolfbittenpoet]

There is a mad symmetry
In the way the words fall across the page
As the click,click,click of keys rings in silence
But for the melting of the ice in the glass on desktop
And the sound of the cat's soft snores on the bookshelf
Occasionally mosquito buzz near half deaf ears
Advance the page a steady rhythm builds
Tap, tap, tap
Finish page
Scratching pen correcting typos
toofast forgot the spaec
Dyslexic mind doesn't catch all the misspells
Will find them later when brain less fuzzy
click, click, click nother page beneath the keys
scratch scratch scratch like the leaves in the breeze

[wolfbittenpoet]

Hot sweaty therapy
We have fucking Therapy
Urge to be seen as who we are
You on my cock
Happy fagboi
Seen as beautiful handsome boy
Willing to bottom for me
Therapy session on the floor
You call me handsome hot hard hunk
You've had surgery I have not
But you don't treat me like a freak
You bite and scratch
We walk away bruised and at peace
Therapy hookup
I've got your number until next year

[wolfbittenpoet]

You are a warrior
Painted up old school in blue whirls to a god you do not name
You smile as I pull off your shirt
I trace my fingers over your sweat slicked skin
Worshiping a god I do not name
I smile as I lick the scar roughened skin
You look at me eyes gone passion dark
There is a heat rising from us
We are transforming
In each others eyes we are warriors

[wolfbittenpoet]

You fell asleep
Your stamina impressive but still even angels must sleep
And you lay a beautiful renaissance sculpture
Tangled in the sheets
Your lashes dark upon your cheeks
Your skin is still flushed from passion
I simply sit drinking whisky and watching you
Tracing the lines of your body
You are a delight
But I covet your body in only a semisexual way
No I admire the way you have worked
Like a sculptor to get the form
And I wonder if I shall ever be that beautiful
Or if I am simply a convenience

[wolfbittenpoet]

I curse you Sal Paradise
For being the man I am not
I am a wanderer of words
But not roads
Though often I have dreamed
Of simply walking away
And making a go of being a mad backpack madman making my way to Mexico City
I want to meet my Dean
And live dancing in glorious insanity with him
Instead of trailing along behind
Simply digging his wild beat songs
Or perhaps I curse you Ray Smith
For the beauty you find in the calmness of madness
Of your night on the beach and your bed under the roses
I want a Japhy with wild Oregon happiness
And learn to fly down mountains after climbing up them on my knees
I wish to sit calmly watching for fire and dreaming of old men who are seeking enlightenment
If only I had been born 50 years earlier
Perhaps then I could been a mad cat without seeming insane

[wolfbittenpoet]

One two three
Keep in time
Lift and grunt and set down
One two three
Another time
Close your eyes I will not whine
One two three
Curse this game
Open eyes work through the pain
One two three
No more counts
Pain has won so count me out

[wolfbittenpoet]

Carefully lather
Shaving bar in cup with brush
Lather up after warm water wash
Shave with straight razor
Sharpened till it would make Mad Sweeney proud
Careful with blade against your throat
Calm steady
This is the true test of a man
Finish up rinse face
Clean the blade oil the blade
No rust on this tool
Look in mirror
My face is clean and smooth
I am at peace

[wolfbittenpoet]

Calmly breathe
The world is hectic
Madness makes it go round
Yet you are beyond it
Embrace it a wild lover
Though strangely predictable
You smile
Kick up your feet
And watch the clouds go by

[wolfbittenpoet]

It is madness
To stare longingly at blank page
Laying on ink stained desk
Like a lover who has neglected you
Yet still craving the feel of silken flesh you follow
Desperation dogging you
Until finally with shaking hand you pick up the pen
Like a razor you lay it to your soul
And you rip out words that only angels and demons should ever hear
Until with tear and sweat stained agony you have given your release
And you throw away the pen in disgust
Your just another junkie in this fucked up world
And your addiction seems so innocent
Except in the dark of night where sleep won't come
Unless you pick up that pen and scream in silence

[wolfbittenpoet]

Leave blank a page
To make scream the mind
Until you write in white on white
Invisible words
Over and over
Layers on layers
Written but not seen
And never spoken
All those words that tear at you
Until you have to stand so carefully still
Mustn't show how they hurt
When some are spoken from such innocent lips
Who can know that it is a dirty word in your ears but you?

[wolfbittenpoet]

In the forest of the night
I glimpsed a tiger burning bright
In his rage and my despair
He happened to catch me standing there
I did not run
Though he gave chase
I stared that tiger in the face
In my fear I was surprised
To see humanity in his eyes
So as I stood
He did kneel
And in my mind I knew he did feel
He was sad for he was real

[kannon]

h0YBsPUk09Q

[Talon]

If words were like raindrops
Noah's flood would only half approach
The untamed longing in my heart
To please my gentle lover
She who whispers in tender carresses
Inspiration
Yet I drown sometimes when cruel mistress she becomes
Trying to swallow around words
Being torn to shreds by emotion
I cannot convey
Until I lie in broken sharded sanity
Weeping ink and sobbing sonnets
A broken battered beloved
Yet still I shall crawl
On hand and knee to worship at her feet
For she is inspiration
My muse who stands hidden
A ghost in my shadow
Brave daughter of memory thy name is Calliope

Just beautiful...you are quite the poet.