Glenn McCrary, 19 sierpnia 2012
Establishing the oblivious existence
That were her distant echoes
She seared my skin by way
Of her screaming eyes
And just seconds away
from marrying the anus of death
to spare my life was damn honorable of her
Glenn McCrary, 19 sierpnia 2012
She mirrored the shape of a psychotic hooker
Tattooed by hickeys and bruises
Written upon the pages of her breasts
In lieu of her nightly pearl tuxedo
The teeth protruding from her vagina
Began hissing and spitting at me
The war was far from over…
Glenn McCrary, 19 sierpnia 2012
Raspy, sexified tones began tightening
Like nooses around my throat
A trail of corpses appeared nonexistent
To millions of natural eyes
Catastrophically I was yet another victim
In the pages of murder that she had composed
She must be found…
Glenn McCrary, 19 sierpnia 2012
This tongue broadcasts
hushed tones of satanic nature
And strange snickers
resounded throughout the canyons
Chanting nocturnes as irking
as a rhino horn against a chalkboard
yet the prophecy remained clear
I had to find this beast…
Glenn McCrary, 19 sierpnia 2012
In the billow of mercurial cataclysms
Sharp as the pyrexia of igneous pebble stones
Upon my hindquarters I was cast
The circles that were established
Branded my skin with cancerous nightmares
Crafting the twisted love song fucking my throat
Through the lavender haze I tread
Threatened by a medley of conundrums
The tongue legislating such echoes
‘tis the element I so daringly seek
Glenn McCrary, 31 lipca 2012
For humans who, from the beginning
Were first originated,
Degenerate into sand,
It is known not,
Of their creator’s whereabouts,
And knowing is further refrained,
Though it is not entirely known,
That he exists,
Though few find him,
Worth sparing,
A secondary glance.
Glenn McCrary, 31 lipca 2012
To him all women are hallowed
minus those that hustle themselves.
How instantly and cunningly
they commit truculent acts
yet never bribed by mischief
except by rendezvous.
Glenn McCrary, 31 lipca 2012
Furnished from the beginning with superlative demeanor,
You sway no haughty elbows,
And murder all colours of mockery,
Refrain from staring down the bridge of your nose,
As well as the egocentric adults
That bear the sharpness of a minotaur horn.
Your own sanctuary
Is crafted from knife fissures and bullet nests,
The nightmare of cathedrals;
Though existence must be slain
In order to fashion birth, yet
existence is never slain for applause
Glenn McCrary, 31 lipca 2012
Free from the sins of the America’s bureaucracy,
you were always indifferent
To jealousy,
Yet your poetry
Has fostered poets
To compose legendary verses,
And, though you are distinguished from,
The majority of your contemporaries
The wounds of the broken have been mended.
Glenn McCrary, 31 lipca 2012
It has been stated that on judgment day
We may be given not the shape of diamonds,
But of bones.
Plausible now, more than before
In our last days we shall infuse as one
(To mirror the imagism of each other),
Yet display no parallelism
Could that be why we were
Disgusted by daring faces,
Yet never revolted?
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