Strange Tiny Creatures

Strange Energy

mymgoth — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 08:39:37 +0000

A burst where yesterday
There was a lull
A manic flow of mana
Metaphors rush and collide
Accretion of disparate parts
Great engines of archaic steam
Surge on rails of Reason
Motivation is a companion traveller
Who I listen to with polite feigned interest
Wide-eyed Imagination stares through holes in the sky
Stars breach the dark curtain of despair
The Imp in Harlequin mask capers through the hallways
While my Muse LOL
Watching the Monkeys in my head tumbling on Freudian slips
Logic, poor think clerk adjusts his spectacles
Trying to balance the accounts
Before the return of the dark guests
Torturers of Kindness
Carrying Lethargy and Melancholy in their wake
Can I tap this strange energy?
To breathe upon Passion’s dying embers.
And fan the flames of Ambition

50th poem and beyond

mymgoth — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 02:44:50 +0000

I can’t believe it. I have now posted over 50 of my own poems on STC! I have also posted two new poems written while I was on a choir camp on Mount Tamborine. I am more than half way to my goal to write 100 poems (also including those ones I haven’t published on the blog).

Blasphemy against the bards of old and Iconoclastic Tendencies

mymgoth — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 02:33:28 +0000

The alpine air lends wings to my Muse’s ethereal flight..
Wait what conspires here?
My Muse is no old fashioned maid to flit among verdant blooms
She dreams of Boost Juice and Zumba
Stomps with the Wii Fit and dances to Video Hits
No heavenly angel that lightly treads
She makes her mark upon the world in Doc Martins
A pox on you Byron
A plague on you Keats
Shakespeare be gone
What care I for Dido, Titania, Oberon, Endymion & Apollo
You bards whose landscapes are overcrowded with Sylphs
Creepy Nymphs stalking unwary lovers
Men of their time living in the past
Public school boys using “Thou”, “Thy” and “Thee” as pick up lines
And still I fall back upon your graceless ease
You overly romantic self-pompous pedants
Infect me not with your insatiable appetite for nostalgia
Arrrgh!!!
The present will propel my pen

On the Mountain

mymgoth — Tue, 13 Sep 2011 02:11:45 +0000

I sit here to compose
Chilly in the mountain sun
Latent voices warming with the day
Power tools are a Death Metal concert next door
The winds shuffle meekly through the eucalypts
Mountain of the musical instrument
But no 60′s feel good hit plays here
Just Scandinavian pop plastic fantastic
Literal thoughts become miscast words
Quiet is the thunderous inner storm
While leaves crash to the ground with loud report
And yet the ink is not dry upon the page
Before the next letter makes it’s weary way onto the paper
Ghosts are playing on always distant piano
So discordant are theme and purpose
So lost are the broken verses
That the fool writing them
Can’t pick the right time to end

Here be Dragons – Part 6

mymgoth — Sat, 27 Aug 2011 13:37:59 +0000

Another stanza added to it seems ever expanding but really going nowhere poem ‘Here be Dragons’

Map decaying, my jaded eye surveying
That which ancient wise men drew
Symbols marking where bones lie sleeping
Of personal demons they cruelly slew