Poetry



Tuesday, July 6th, 2010


From "The List of Loss: Feb to March"
Gregory James Wyrick


One to invisible foes
And one to an early tomb
One to her poisonous rose
And one to her sullen groom
And my one true love, to her silent repose
Behind May's new moon

We all wait to break
But some leave far too soon

 

*****

 

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010


(Dracula Jesus)
Gregory James Wyrick


Dracula Jesus
Both are resurrected beings 
Both rose from graves
Both use blood as the instrument for eternal life 
Both raise the dead
Both have supernatural powers
Both encourage blood drinking
Both are called "Lord" or "Master" by their followers.


*****

 

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010



33. Between Us

Gregory James Wyrick


wrist over wrist at first
and fumbling over knees nervously,
you offer me a soft fist
and a wispy english knuckle unfolds a curious pinky
dared, it erects itself defiantly-
positions itself before aching and persuading steel
up and out toward me, tempted me instinctively

recklessly, I let it twist there momentarily-
straining in the tedious air between us
to greet your overconfident glance graciously
yes, this is a test
a harsh lesson in devotion and restraint
I wait for your oath for but a brief moment
before I press your bone and flesh
to the cool legs of these longing blades

and in devotion unrestrained,
shred your pretty blonde heart
into yawning ribbons of red

you neither flinch nor stumble
and I am humbled
the innocence between us unravels again and again. 

 

42.* Diary of Flesh *
Gregory James Wyrick

In the beginning there's nothing.
At first, just a hint of its tiny twitch...
Like time winding backwards on itself.

Oh! Then it starts
it's witching, quivering and stirring
through the murky gossamer of plundered chambers.
To crisscross a heavy heart.
Then the blacks crack
and I bring you back...
Trashed, thrashed and broken in meticulously
over the dais of my greedy need.
With wet eyes, I bring you to life in enduring the deed;
to spill out in unoccupied ecstasy
or
to simply bleed.
I lost more than freckles and fingerprints
tripping through your dark hues-
stabbing between innocence and sinew.
You go all eyes
With your skin cage rattled awake
before you’re drawn taut over dimensions of fever
and made to forsake
your darkest everything.

With senses severed-
drunk and disciplined
on hyssop chemical miracles
and blushes of smut,
You buckle under...
Completely undone...
Tongue stung
in the pleasures of hell and horror...
Sucking leads of my love.

 

G. James Wyrick currently resides just outside of Detroit where he lives with the ghost of his dead cat. Contact info: myspace.com/themethodlearned.

 

*****

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