In winter, our lives rearrange.
The light shifts
and we scratch away our mange.
In winter, our days shrink.
The light shifts
and we have nary a moment to think.
In winter, our pain expands.
The light shifts
and we struggle to meet demands.
In winter, our hope grows.
The light shifts
and we hear echoes of barbeques in the snows.
In winter, our hearts melt.
The light shifts
and we learn to love the hands we’re dealt.
Categories: Poetry, Tags: beautiful, beauty, earth, obfuscation, poem, poetry, ugliness, ugly, veils, writing
Veils make the beautiful even more so
and the ugly beautiful
Obscuring flaws and highlighting perfection
The gentle slope of a nose
a mountain.
The rounded globe of a cheek
a hill.
The long, smooth line of a throat
a river.
The fog covers a field
in a thin, silken veil.
The budding plants peek out
like sultry, smoky eyes.
When the veil is drawn
the crop reveals its nurturing bounty.
Clouds cover the eyes of the sky
The sun and moon staring, unblinking
down on the Earth
Wispy, white lace obscuring, but not concealing,
the face of the heavens
The beautiful curve of the hills
matched by the smooth, blue face
of the sky
makes a Hellenic beauty
unmarred, unblemished by make-up
caked and piled high
So many plastic babes in our modern world
the face of the Earth is refreshing
to look upon, yet only through the veil
of mist and vapor
Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: black, cherry, dye, growth, hair, love, number one, poem, poetry, red, Type O Negative, woman
Yes, it’s about hair dye. Sort of. And yes, it was inspired by a certain Type O Negative song.
She used to dye it black; she had the blues.
Lacy gowns and scaring all of the dudes.
‘Twas All Hallow’s Eve; we didn’t look back.
Oh, one last time to dye it all black.
Now this phoenix’s rising, it’s still true;
Oh, Lilly Munster’s got nothing on you.
So now you’ve taken on a lighter hue.
That Black Cherry looks goddamn good on you.
Well, if you wanna go out, it don’t matter if your roots are showing.
Yeah, you can go out to remind yourself where you’re going.
Just don’t dye it black.
You can’t go back.
Loving you, ’cause we’re both undead.
Black, black, black cherry, oh.
Categories: Poetry, Randomness, Rant, Tags: dishonesty, equality, excuses, explanations, gay, gingers, GLBT, greed, hate, intolerance, lesbian, love, NOH8, pain, poetry, queer, rage, violence
While I can appreciate the goals of the NOH8 Campaign, I think they might have it wrong; we don’t need less hate, we need more, and we need to direct it at the right things. Not sure what the right things to hate are? Don’t worry! I’m here for you:
Of course, with your hate properly channeled, it’s important to remember that other humans are never a valid target of your hate. Hate what they say; hate what they do; but treat the people themselves with love, or at least indifference.
Conveniently enough, I wrote a poem regarding hate shortly before getting the inspiration (a NOH8 twibbon on someone’s avatar) for this post. I’ll finish off, then, with the poem. As always, I appreciate every piece of feedback I get.
Because they were whores
who cared not for their kids,
we’ve lost our mothers,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we borrowed more
than we could beg or steal,
we’ve lost our homes,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we weren’t shown
the right way to love,
we’ve lost our wives,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,
the answer’s always the same.
When everything else washes away,
we’ve got no one else to blame.
Because our fathers never
showed us how to be men,
we’ve lost our strength,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we played Doom
for hours on end,
we’ve lost our control,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because his pain was too great
for antacids to kill,
we’ve lost our Voice,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,
the answer’s always the same.
When everything else washes away,
we’re left with nothing but shame.
Because our leaders lied
time and time again,
we’ve lost our trust,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we smoked and snorted
and shot up too much,
we’ve lost our sanity,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because our priests betrayed
their most sacred vows,
we’ve lost our faith,
so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,
the answer’s always the same.
When everything else washes away,
we’re holding on to our hate.
Categories: Poetry, Tags: Dragonfly, literature, poem, poetry, publication, Rock Valley, Voices
The dragonfly is flitting to and fro! My poem, “Dragonfly,” has now been published in Writer’s News Weekly (first publication), the Fall 2010 edition of Rock Valley College’s Voices art and literature magazine, and at Fictionaut. I’m proud of the little guy!
This is one of my best poems, if I do say so myself. If you have a moment, please give the piece a gander and share your thoughts with me. My fragile artist’s ego could use a boost after the lousy week I’ve had. Thanks in advance.
Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: Dagger In The Sky, Dragonfly, From A Writer's POV, poem, poetry, Writer's News Weekly
I’m very pleased to announce acceptance of my poem “Dragonfly” as a featured piece by Writer’s News Weekly. Writer’s News Weekly is dedicated to “writing something worth reading; doing something worth writing about.” I’m honored and humbled the WNW team considers my work worthy of that lofty aspiration. The poem they chose, “Dragonfly,” was inspired by one of those wonderfully random moments that remind me the world is full of beauty despite its ugliness. To read the poem, click the banner below.
I am also featured in this month’s issue of From A Writer’s POV magazine. The article includes my poem “Dagger In The Sky.” My favorite quote from the piece is the very first sentence: “Darius McCaskey sees the world in a vastly different manner than most people…” That’s probably one of the most flattering things anyone has ever said about me. If you’d like to read the complete article, and my poem, “Dagger In The Sky,” click here.
Of course, if you like those poems, you should pick up a copy of my debut poetry book, Angst & Wrath. It’s available in print and electronic versions from all major online outlets, including the iBookstore, Amazon, and Smashwords. You can also add the book to your lists on Goodreads by clicking the nifty widget over there —————————>
Categories: Poetry
Here’s a quick little poem for your enjoyment. I bet you can’t guess when it was written. 😉
The moon
hung in the sky,
round and pale,
under cover
of some wispy clouds.
Categories: Poetry, Tags: absurd, battle, dark, fear, joy, nightshade, poem, raven, space, triumph
For your enjoyment, here’s an absurd little poem of mine:
Raven;
Joy in the shade of space.
Fear of the unseen enemy.
The battle is fought,
the dark is won.
Nightshade triumphant!
Categories: Angst & Wrath, Poetry, Writing, Tags: AdWords, Angst & Wrath, Genesis, Genocide City Zone, Google, Holocaust, Nazi, poem, poetry, Rock Valley, Rush, RVC, Sega, Sonic, Voices
It occurs to me that I’ve not posted a new poem in quite some time. As I’ve started running Google ads to promote my poetry writing, it seems prudent to put some fresh poems online. This post does just that.
This poem, “Genocide City Zone,” was originally published in the Voices literary magazine of Rock Valley College. In fact, it was written specifically for inclusion in that journal. I reprinted “Genocide City Zone” in my chapbook, Angst & Wrath.
The name “Genocide City Zone” was rejected as a level name in one of the original Sonic the Hedgehog games on the Sega Genesis. When I read about the name being cut from the game, it stuck with me. Several months later, this poem was produced. The title and theme is very reminiscent of a Rush song (Red Sector A, anyone?).
So, without further ado, I present you “Genocide City Zone.”
Welcome to the genocide city zone
I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay
We’ve been killing folks here
All the live-long day
If you want to join us
You’ll have to pay the price
Your soul’s the cost, so ante up
C’mon and shoot the dice
Welcome to the genocide city zone
Everyone’s dying to get in
Ignore your guilty conscience
Though Jesus says it’s sin
If you do not join us
You’ll have to pay the price
Sacrifice your life tonight
To our deadly new device
Welcome to the genocide city zone
Check out time is soon
We only stop once a day
To eat our lunch at noon
If you want to join them
We’re happy to grant your request
Just remember this one thing:
We kill ’em with the best
Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: blanket, cloth, cyclops, dead, eye, Greek, king, literature, mist, moon, mythology, needles, night, Oedipus, soul, Styx, Tiresias, trees, wisdom, wool
For the record, I love ancient Greek literature/ mythology. I read Oedipus Rex for what has to be at least the twentieth time the other day. I started reading it again mostly because I wanted to double-check the spelling of “Tiresias,” but once I started, I had to finish the story. Of course, I knew what was coming, but watching the tragedy unfold, seeing the inevitability of it, is what makes the story great.
For your reading pleasure, I present a poem that features some Greek mythological references. I hope you enjoy it. As always, your feedback is welcome and encouraged.
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.
waning,
the moon peers down at me
like the heavy-lidded eye of some cyclops.
and if I be lost like poor Odysseus,
cloak me in the soft, warm wool of night.
and if my eyes fail me like old Tiresias,
stitch the cloth with the needles of the king,
and wrap me in the soft, cool wisdom of night.
and if the trees reach out for me
like the souls of the dead,
blanket me in the soft, cool mists of the Styx.
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.