Material Storm (We, My Lost Generation, The Debris) Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

'There's a material storm brewing, there's a deathlike demolition on its way. We, The Lost Generation, float aimlessly, we are the debris, the drifters, and this is the only solution. The unfortunate ending, the resolution, the only conclusion.'

I write the silky lightning
I pen the hurricane's delight
My wounds; the storm
My womb, the breathless child, unborn
Assassinating both love and purpose.

Bludgeoning gentle caresses
While my demeanor depresses
So I demand fury instead,
I require an awakening from The Grim Reapstress
To be rose from the dead.

True succession
Would be to make a resurrection
To cultivate the erection,
From the beast that will destroy me.

My words are my bible,
My handbook for life.
Or maybe just a guide on how to find
Relief with a knife.
Use the razor-sharp edge;
Pierce my psyche
Screw my soul
Pillage my innocence
As you fill every hole.

…With perversion,
Sorrow deserts me.
An antidote causes the desertion,
As madness converts me!

I write the silky lightning
I pen the hurricane's delight
I dance in Death's tornadoes
Making love to the rich murk of midnight

My dispiriting words cultivate
Your carnal, passionate hate
I write the poems that gouge through you
It's a scorcher, it's the electric screw
And, YOU know WHO I mean, of course, YOU DO.

Subliminal, is it also sublime?
Forcing these flames and the fire to intertwine?
Giving a shove right over that line—
Boundaries cross, will we walk this path in time?

I write the roaring, beastly thunder,
I pen the hurricane's delicate delight
I write with a fever pitch
Cultivating violence and the fight.

Never made for this world:
Can't be the calm before the storm
Only made for this world's—
Violence to be born.

© copyright 2018-2024 Material Storm (We, My Lost Generation, The Debris) Nicole D'Settēmi