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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;
I locked my heart in a mahogany box and threw away the key.
There was no one to care for - there was nothing left for me.
My heart had ceased beating long ago
after years of misery and pain.
Through countless highs and lecherous lows
I became immune to pounding rain.
I walked without even my shadow as a friend.
Numb to all emotions that surfaced to my skin.
Knowing I would be alone to the bitter end
suffering the consequences of sin.
I was shunned and shamed -
bruised and maimed.
No one cared - no one knew.
No one bothered to change my view.
My life was a silent movie
of a language no one spoke.
With plenty of plot holes for all to see
and an ending of mirrors and smoke.
It was getting hard to catch my breath.
Surely death would be oh so sweet.
Addicted to the thought like Crystal Meth,
it skipped through my head like an erratic beat.
She stumbled upon a key that washed up on the shore.
Wondering what it could unlock.
Determined to solve the riddle and explor
RoseThe greatest romance
Lies in your deep crimson color
Your many petals
Softer than skin
Your sharp thorns
Cause me to bleed
My love for you is infinite
The pain you cause me
Is a pleasure
You may be just a flower
But your beauty
Knows no rival
You AreI am the moon,
And you are the sun,
I pale in comparison to you.
I am a student,
And you are a professor.
I cant keep up with you.
I am a snowflake,
And you are a blizzard,
I will never be like you.
I am a tree,
And you are a fire,
You can destroy me easily.
I am a star,
And you are the universe.
You are simply my everything.
I shrug into Harry's shirt
underneath my autumn scarf--
cologne on the cuffs bringing
color as I close my eyes,
the brown of his hair,
laughter, pine green.
Fingers on marbled buttons
smooth as the cream
he puts in his chai.
I think of him like rain on a Sunday,
a slow breath uttered in calm,
eyes shut to listen,
he is peace,
stability in grayer moments.
He is the space in my empty bed
I ache for him the way
I crave prayer and
the feel of a rosary.
Locks of LoveI haven't cut my hair
Since just before
I walked across the stage
Sixteen months ago.
I grew it out
Because, last summer, you loved
To run your fingers
Through its coppery threads.
That always made me feel
When you left for school again in August,
I couldn't bring myself
To get a haircut.
What if you came back,
And this time, my heart was ready for you?
Mid-semester, you told me that,
While you and your friends
Built your school's bonfire,
It was customary
That no one cut his hair
Or even shaved
Until the structure was finished.
I don't think I told you
That I let mine continue to grow
In your honor, except
I didn't cut it on Burn Day.
When we kissed on Christmas Eve,
You weaved your fingers
Through my silken locks
And made me feel beautiful once more.
I still didn't cut my hair,
Even after you left in March,
Save for the split ends
I trimmed in May,
Hoping to eradicate negative energy
But not wanting to let go of you.
Now it's September.
Epiphanyhearken when healing
from the hurt of love hamstrung
the hander of the handkerchief
may be your heart’s hope
If I Were A Love PoetFor my Laban. For my love.
Sometimes, often enough
when my thoughts are consumed
with you- I find myself wishing
that I was a love poet.
Wouldn’t it be beautiful
to piece words together so artistically
that I could make people understand
what it’s like to miss hands
that have never held me?
Wouldn’t it be the damnedest thing,
if I could make a stranger
know how it feels to kiss you?
Sweetly, passionately, softly
Hesitantly- and yet all at once?
Even though their lips have never met yours,
Even though our lips have never met.
How lovely would it be
to sanely, yet romantically
explain to my parents what it’s like
to fall asleep with you?
We could tell them how you giggle when I beg you
to be the big spoon- because I feel like it’s to much responsibility.
We could tell them about the sleepy kisses you give me
at 3 a.m when you find me searching for
togetherburningi love him and it seems like
we are all coming together
in this wide
him all lanky arms and
open spaces – electric skin – power
line veins catch
ing fire against
the golden grass
lim b s
arms spreading some
big togetherburning sky-bridge
him and me and
Some kind of frightful skinandblush
how i love him, how, i
how i love the cacophony
of our time
To Love a HedgehogI
A hedgehog in the winter,
straw against the wind.
While the heart is warm
its feet are cold.
A hedgehog all alone,
his heart is full of love,
overflowing like sun with warmth,
in the blistering cold.
But to love a hedgehog
is a task for none.
As his love is felt
through the tips of spines.
One day a fox came by
underneath her failing fur
there was hidden heart of gold.
Warm and kind - despite the cold.
“Little hedgehog”, said the fox,
“you straw against the wind
why are you alone
in this uncaring cold?”
“Dear fox” replied our little friend
“My heart is warm
with dreams of love
I don't feel the cold.”
“But little one! What is love
without a friend?
My fur is scant and failing,
but it's warmer than the snow!”
“Go away... my love is pain
felt through the tips of spines
drawing blood; precious warmth
red against the silent snow.”
“But love is pain...
the pain we share together”
and thus they cuddled
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
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