Profound Mechanism

what an oddly profound mechanism memory is
to be able to hear
the exact sound of someone’s voice
from years ago just by imagining it
to be able to vividly picture
a scene from a bygone era
whilst simultaneously looking
at the reality of the present moment
to summon the irreplicable symphony of flavors
rendezvousing upon the tongue
from a cherished dish
whose creator is no more
to behold the sweet scent
that once had found your senses
rapt in an erstwhile lover’s embrace
to revisit the feeling
of fleeting ideals
whence they fooled you into falling
for what you thought would be forever
foundations are ever shifting
in the light of newfound context
tragedy reshapes the stories
locked within our mind
knowing that the day will come
when all that we might stand to muster
swiftly turns to dust swept away
by a lonesome gust of wind
and this, the only truth
that we might ever trust in
it is for this very reason
we must live
within each moment
to foster our experience
as though it were untold
to leave a bold impression
that we one day might recall again
when all is lost as we retreat
into death shrouds of our own making

Phantom Filament

i swallow pills
to feel like i exist
to stay my wrists
from bleeding out
and the nightshade
from my mouth
keep the hammer
from the primer
and the blade
untouched by blood
to prevent another haunting
at a wayward viaduct
so the reservoir stays pure
and the oven safe for food
let the rope tend to its duty
and the fires burn of wood
plastic bags were meant for sundries
and policemen to protect
heroin is too depressing
living death begets respect
it’s an irony most shameful
that to suffer is to earn
amid consequence most baleful
while the tastemaker’s face turns
as we follow in the footsteps
of a lifelong detriment
chanting “this is as good as it gets”
in a phantom filament

On a Saturday Morning

wake up
just to not
give a fuck

torn
from the only place
where i have
any worth

cursed to face
isolation
without hope
for solution

in this
hypnic delusion
of my cryptic submission

cigarette-lipped confusion
fuck
it’s hard
just to type shit

this
as good
as my life gets

i can’t quit
and yet, i did

with this pill
that i swallow

maybe death
will soon follow

on a saturday morning
and she’s not in my arms

there’s a draft
slowly drifting

into yesterday’s clothes
on an old
beat-up mattress

that some rat
made its home

i had bought
a humane trap

but i can’t bear
to tear him

from his only known dwelling
because i know the feeling

in the attic of heartache
it’s a static illusion

i can’t take
much more of this

not without
her love’s solace

on a saturday
so low

with my rodent companion
i refuse to abandon

unlike her
with her hand
down the pants
of a strange man

i guess we are all victims
of a silent affliction
where we scream
but no sound comes
only numbness
of conscience

bleeding truth
in her absence
in the attic of loss
left
on a saturday
mourning

with this rat
my only friend

Token of Her Heart’s Reflection

it’s hot outside
my heart is broken

yesterday
the news struck ground
after weeks
bound by tempest waters
ravaging resolve

her restraint
was faint at best
upon a whim’s behest
it crumbled

knowing well
the consequence
were she to sip
the spirits of chance

known to fail
my intuition
when it passed
i turned away

it was this moment
that would tear
our bond asunder

all the fire
that burned within me
now subdued
to hurt transmuted

as the bead of sweat
gathers to fall
in the periphery

from the black rimmed glasses
perched upon my face askew

also, does a tear lamenting
sent from realms
of shuttered pain

sweltering
as sorrow rings the sting
within this vacant stare

trained upon that shattered moment
shone to show her disregard

that she would allow
for all this

broken boundaries
words misspoken

token of her heart’s reflection

Faithless Wraiths

My latest poem on Sudden Denouement

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

slighted

by eluding slumber

on this

the eve of our undoing

a queendom

once as mighty

as the matriarchal moon

teemed with warmth

effusive

now reduced

to shards

of lucid shame

poring over

penned epiphanies

of deconstructing

torrid tales

torn into pieces

taking flight

as footsteps fall

fleeing from

this strangest feeling

folding into

flawed expression

told by victors

sold to loss

pictures steeped

in surface tensions

depths of our

sustained dissent

situated on a slab

of drab somatic sediment

a case of faithless

wraiths

drunk

on the urgency

of slow submersion

there is no function

left to serve

no faction

fraught with fervor

fading into fields

of fescue

overtaking structures stoic

tucked away

’til all the hands

of time

release their souls


[Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I am a feminist, humanist, cat loving musician bound by whimsy and the incessant analysis of…

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Fractured Hearts

fragile hearts
composed of fractured shards
of selenite
soon fall
from the silence
strewn long
throughout the night

some will dissipate
upon the kiss
of eclipsed atmosphere

while others infiltrate
the earth’s defenses
waiting to be found

is this power
within my pen
enough to stay
disappointment?

can these sunken eyes
sustain the curtain’s calling
dirt and all?

through these weary eyes
of stinging
i fail
to see the answer

no longer does water well
in the aqueduct
of quiescence

and gone
is any semblance
of the joy
that once we knew

having joined
the desperate masses
as envoys of muted morass

precious hours spent
relentlessly toiling
for elusive spoils

spanning the breadth
of a breathlessness
unbridled

’til our heads withered
wayward
down the trail
of idle absurdity

as frail
as the feathered waif
unhidden
on a leaf-barren poplar

sonically assailed
by a hail-tinged doppler shriek
with a tail that spanned the ages

The Aster’s Disk

how do you trust
emphatic assertations
claiming of a love so vital
so unknown
safe and new
all is spoken
as though feelings
never had been felt before
for a moment
nearly falling
to the call
of evermore
pre-assembled sentiments
relentlessly unleashed
lose the power
that was never there
a flower now bereft
of petals
left to tend
the aster’s disk

Man

man can move
the tallest mountains
make the oceans
swell with pride
etch impressions
on the surface
seen by lands
from far away
draw the blood
of life’s sustaining
plunder veins
of precious veil
arrogate
that of their choosing
reap the spoils
not of their labor
whilst denying
those in need
pluck the freedom
of the weary
bask in spoils
acquisitioned
through the treachery
of fear
e’er oppress
the sex deemed lesser
dressed in superficial robes
deviate
the disenfranchised
propagate
a web of lies
willfully mislead
a nation
painting plots
of false depiction
trampling the rights
of humans
progress
without introspection
disregarding
consequences
wrought
without critical thought
heedlessly consuming resource
bred to bleed
by way of force
commandeering
nature’s order
veering unto
undue course
man alone
possesses function
poised to foster
prosperous peace
sadly
by the will of madmen
all succumb
to reckless aims
fraught with shame
to shun the conscience
consciously exacting fate
writhing
underneath the surface
dominated by duress
misappropriated purpose
pacifying pointless pleas
compromising love’s convention
laying in a bed
of dolor
draped
in diligent denial
piling dirt
brings darkened skies
all is lost
for sake of ego
forgoing the cost
of life
flagrant fervant
self-obsession
wrought by flippant
fools compliance
legacy is soon forgotten
fantasy perpetuates
’til we’ve felled
our final bastion
cast away
by our own hand

Detached

and just like that
you detach

should the phial
not fit
the potion

would you even care
to see the air
suspended?

my observations
point to a den
of staunch subjection

obscuring with precision
what reflects upon your mind

this begs the question
what of your vocation?

compacting heads
to fit the master’s mould

i must admit
to grave concerns
popping
from the pages turning

but this lost connection
since has seized
distraction earned

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective But Were Afraid to Ask

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Q: What is the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective?!

A: The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and its sister sites Secret First Draft and Whisper and The Roar are forums for divergent literature that we hope excite and challenge you.

Our writers come from around the world but we share a passion for writing and all write because we have to.  We value and respect each other as writers and as human beings. We are committed to inspiring each other and producing high quality work.

Q: What will I find on each site?

A:Sudden Denouement: Monday through Friday we publish original work by our Collective members.  We highlight one writer, collaboration or special feature per day.  Weekends are dedicated to Indie Saturday Blogs and reblogs from our incredible writers so you can get a further taste of what they offer.  Sometimes we run guest posts and guest reblogs because we roll that…

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