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Night's BlanketNight's Blanket
Rewritten By Lobo Di Noccento
as of September 14th 2013
Night's Blanket is Draped upon My City's Native Shores
Yet like many other cities its residents here are of non-native scores.
The Non-Natives truly need to put their inhumanities in check
For the kinds of damages they have incurred are the kinds that
Generational History will never take the time to forget, and
this is a truth it shall always reflect.
Certain things have died here, that we can never replace;
Like Natural Beauty, or Inspirational Grace.
Now all that is left, is a City Divided
With Issues which have been Provided, By the Human Race.
The Joys of Being a Werewolf"Even a Person that is pure of Heart
that says their prayers by night
can become a Wolf when the
Wolfbane blooms and the
moon is full and bright."
- a Ancient Gypsy Saying
that has been slightly Modified
The Joys of Being a Werewolf
Written By Lobo Di Noccento
Written On November 24th 2012
Your Dark Visceral Depression
Made Motivation For Suicidal Cuts
made by a Straight Razor this was
your Lavish Invocation.
I Inhale the Intoxicating Bouquet
of your blood;Like a Sea of Blood Roses
Splashing Forth Onto the Shores of a Cravass;
And the Perfume of that Sea is Endless and Vast.
I'm being drawn into
The Delight of Blood, Flesh and Bone
Which I find a Delightful Epicurial Feast;
Introductions shall be made and this
Maiden shall know my Beast!
My Flesh, Joints and Nerves Expand;
My Muscles and Organs Grow;
My Faceplate changes for now
the human without must fall away
and The Face of the Animal must Show!
My Bones Snap, Crackle and Pop!
My Pale Orbed Mistress Demands
this of me!;And until tra
Illicit and ExplicitIllicit and Explicit
Written By Lobo Di Noccento
Written On November 19th 2012
(Dedicated to Debbie Hasinnerpeace)
Whenever I speak,Grand Water Droplets Fill
every molecule of oxygen in the Air and soon
Tidal Waves, Tidal Pools, Typhoons and Monsoons
Expand through out the Whole of the Room
I Vocally travel down your
Audio Vibratorial Spiral Gyroscopic Canals;
Where the warmth of my electrically charged words
tribally plays your drums;
Here I proceed, with
my need to Burn Bright the Fearsome Insight
that brings great delight;The Ecstasy of Cosmic Euphoria.
With every Master stroke of your drum's skin;
I intensify My Mesmeric Hypnosis just a little bit more
...and a little bit more;
Because we all know you can't hide
your glow about the fact that you wanna be
big daddy Microphone's happy little whore.
Once I'm inside I slip, slide and glide over to your Corridor of Doors
Its here that I find the Black Doored Room hidden in the back of your mind
This is The Room that contains all of your
Diametric OppositionDiametric Opposition
(Dedicated To: Former Attorney Alan D.Eisenberg)
(A.K.A My Bio-Dad)
Written by Lobo Di Noccento
Written on October 3rd 2012
Raven's wing haired man with eyes of hazel jewels;
Piercing through the night with a neon light;
A Neon Light that is brighter than can be withstood,
by most easily tormented fools.
Short of stature but intense of stare;
a man that plays by his own rules;
A man many of whom would find to be
unrealistic and unfair.
This man he is not above complaint;
But is beneath a toast;
He is loud of arrogance and louder of boast.
Behind this facade he hides a soured heart;
He is a bitter,angry and violent maelstrom of a man;
Whom breaths fire but takes not the time to conceive,
a well thought out plan.
This man has no center that's calm and focused;
As his mouth is big and his appetites are overly bloated.
Zeus's electrical bolts course through his veins which is something;
That not all the world can see for violence hides best in darkness
When Madness Marries StupidityWhen Madness Marries Stupidity
Written by Lobo Di Noccento
Written on October 17th 2012
Psychosis,psychosis come take a fine look.
To find out an answer please seek out a good book.
I don't mean the bible as it used by every religious whore.
My suggestion would be psychological medicine at its very core.
- a parody of the Milwaukee library system song
When two sibling slaves like Madness and Stupidity come together;
And repeatedly engage in incestual relations over the span of ages.
The children of such unions stand very low chances;
For any kind of Inevitable Evolutionary Advances.
The chances of survival are even lower;
However,I am sure to many of you;
that is not a Mind-Blower.
Especially in a world that truly does not want them;
But does need them and will only have them if as beasts of burden.
Yet,such beasts of burden exist in this world;
And soon they will feel the sting of
Corporate America's yolks upon their backs.
Weighing them down with inaccurate figures and facts.
A Modern Telling of a Ghastly and Ghostly PoemA Modern Telling: Of
A Ghastly And Ghostly Poem
Written by Lobo Di Noccento
Written on October 16th 2012
Ghastly,Disfigured,Mutilated and Reanimated Corpses
Echo Ghostly Prayers in the frigidly bitter chill
of the midnight hour;
And soon there is an arising
of dead clouds that begin to flower.
Rain cuts an Astringent permeating swath
over those that have had the misfortune,
to be caught in its path.
Peaking out from behind the clouds is The Azure Lidded,
Black Lipped Bone Crone all that hear her voice;
Know it by its wail and moan.
Her Crackly and Gravelly voice emanates from
The Mausoleum Crypts and Tombs of the Dead;
And once it is heard it burrows deep into the dark recesses of
the Amygdala causing Schitzo-Effective Psychopathic Dementia.
Deep Dark Orange Pumpkins at every window bare fiery golden glowing faces of death;
They are stealing away from tricker treaters the dark secret dreams that lay hidden within every child's breath.
Samhain's Fearless and Heartless ID is exposed;
Broken HeartbeatYou seem to break my heart beat into shorter syllables,
like every time I touch you,
It just gets
/\ /\ /\ /\ /\ /\ / \ /\ /\ /i r\
________/ \ / \ __/ \ / \ / \ ___/ \ /\ / \ m \ s \ / \ / \_______l i k e__I 'm__g a s p i n g__f o r__a i r_________
I wanted to write you a lovesong.i.
Summer rain has nothing
on the sound of your laugh,
little pinpricks of sunshine
lounging across the cobbled
streets of midnight,
cooled grey eyes, shining
tears of nightlights
glowing like stars in your cheeks;
in darkened archways,
hollow stone walls
reverberating through my skull --
back to earth, loving
taking root under the city floor,
breathing across cool hands
in warmer songs, notes
bundled under my sheets
thoughts that last all night
and drift between the rafters
of my chest
wanting at last;
pure, starry sky and
dawn rolls down the mountainside,
turrets and towers
crinkle-eyed smile batters
falling -- falling --
more delicate than down
softly into the clouds.
one life into another
the moon has sunk
into my soul; I am losing
but the bloodl
She Is PoetryShe speaks to me in sonnets
Sighing her similes
Angrily articulating her alliterations
and ranting her rhymes.
She mumbles her metaphors
Heaving heavily her haikus
Bickering her ballads
at my feeble free verse.
sacrosanct perversionhe is
my paragon of feverish intemperance
my blue-flamed boy nova
the burning of my besotted wits-end and start
the reticence under the gape of endless stars
whose abdomen fell
prey to my scathing eyes and starving claws
whose mien asphyxiated
by my irrepressible thirst
past his past lovers and navel gait
how i pine
for the warmth of his gargantuan laughs
for the coolness of his gaze transfixed
on my lips
blue-fire fervor and inferno
dearest penned don
grant me my sip of the holy grail
i would become a polyglot existence
singing of her myrtle and doves
and my mirabile dictu love
on every known continent
ways I have failedscarling I believe
I knew our stars were faulted
The same way I knew that I couldn't stand them disarrayed
I wove you slowly
into my tendons
and I refuse any dimension that finds us ceasing
just pretend I am a man
and not a knot in your chest
I will pretend that I'm not gasping for breath
you are my barbed catalyst
that I refuse to release
I will proudly dress my wounds in the mirror
knowing that everything will be better than I was
there is no part of me undoctored
no words ungreened
and no fiber untorn
you were never just a prompt
but you were always more than my thin hands could manage
I always knew you would outgrow me
Twilight's Dream Falling,
Twas a dream
You in my sight,
Just your eyes,
Oh, the way
They strip me
Of my soul,
So that it be
My darling -
In the days
You caressed me
Falling for you,
Over you -
But twas just
miles to goi.
i am tired
of having nowhere to go after midnight,
when the skies are cloudiest,
and the streets are darkest.
there's a thirst in me
that desires a map for this twisted path of life;
it's too broken in places
to navigate alone.
goodbyes echo in my head as i step
off the train platform and onto the waiting car,
but i cannot concentrate, for fear
that i have boarded wrong.
so all i can ask
is for you to keep your arms open,
for it's the closest thing to home
that i have ever known.
you set my spine to knotting
with imperfect purl of wax.
clip collarbones to drain them
of their cabernet impacts.
your swishing wakes the levy
and grips teeth of the deceased.
churns salivating testaments
in infinite increase.
the twist of looms in chaos
and cartography dispersed.
fine lines in exit vectors
looping twice about the earth.
a curvature evolving
from unmeasured sect decree
that aggravates the dialect
of treasured lecturing.
a clash of fingerprinting with
a violet wild stare.
the genesis of ending
your litigated seraphim
bow fluid at the knee.
dissolve the body noted
by the crimson lettering.
oh lover suffer sweet with me
and lush make every reap.
we'll monument the dimming light
and lustre tourmaline
DefenselessSink your teeth
Into my soft skin
My neck is bare
Inviting you to dine
On my liquid love
My blood, your desire
Enough to keep you alive
And begging for more
I revel in the thought
Of my red blood cells
Inside of you
When I told you
That you would always
Have a part of me
I meant it
In every sense of the word
My Dream WorldMy Dream World
Written By : Lobo Di Noccento
Written ON : 1/23/2011
The Day My Poem was written
Sunday Morning at 3am
Daytime sky is of a Soft and Gentle
Vanilla and A Sun of Dark Azure.
Not expectant of what we know...
at least what we know for sure.
The Oceanic Waters are of a Crimson Hue;
with Foam of a Deep Amathyst Imbue.
The Tides Crash upon windswept shores
of a silvering white and a ambering gold
and every piece of silicon and sand
has within it a new dream that someone
shall unfold and behold.
Within this water is aquatic life
that is unlike our own as it reinforces
every joint,muscle fiber,tissue,cartilidge and bone.
The water here is really great for our human blood;
As it revitalizes and enriches it with all that
we get depleated of.
All of The Tree's Bark and Roots are of
a Dark Earthy Brown with a Slight Hue of Gray;
The Leaves are of Mamalade Orange
and Laced with fine lines of Magenta for display.
The Grass is of Hazel,Lavendar and White;
The Breeze smells of Jasmine an
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
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