The Skin of Trees: Volume II

by C.A.D.

Overview

A collection of poems.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781496941398
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	10/24/2014
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	314
File size:	554 KB

Read an Excerpt

The Skin of Trees

Volume II

---

By C.A.D.

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2014 C.A.D.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4969-4138-1

---

CHAPTER 1

    Mad As Napoleon

    Haunted by delusions.
    Victim of persecution.
    Did you poison my dinner?
    You made the meal,
    What is in there? ...

    I must admit I'm a coward.
    Scared of it all.
    Like death camp showers ...

    Decomposing little strands
    Of synapses.
    Composing battle plans
    While collapsing ...

    Mad as Napoleon.
    I light up like neon
    When I see you.
    How are my thoughts?
    Way past due?
    I seek what I have sought ...

    Courage and intelligence.
    I climbed the fence,
    So no one gets in.


    Madness Of Montezuma

    She mended for me
    A quilt of madness.
    Undercover, inconspicuous,
    And, soft in sadness ...

    Sometimes a chill Weak and weary Invades my will
    To speak.
    A tongue so heavy ...

    Words liquefy
    When I cry.
    And you come undone.
    You know me.
    I am the chosen one. So ugly on the outside
    I have to reconcile
    Heritage on the inside ...

    Little specks
    Of the
    Little Aztec.
    To the people of my birth,
    I am rich in the ways of what's worth ...

    In the madness of Montezuma ...
    This is where I'll ruin ya.


    Madness Breath of Sin

    Lust in a bottle.
    That's what you are.
    Lust full throttle.
    An engine without a car ...

    Your penile denial.
    I couldn't quite trust you.
    My emotions on trial.
    I couldn't see the just in you ...

    Love.
    A chemical reaction,
    Destroyed in a heartbeat.
    A loyal distraction.
    Ashes fall to my feet ...

    And, as I'm sweeping up the ashes,
    A stranger looks in.
    Creeping in the masses.
    Madness.
    Breath of sin.


    Maestro Of Metaphors

    A lacrimosa so desperately needed.
    If I die, don't you cry,
    It was for this that I so earnestly pleaded.
    See you later.
    No goodbye ...

    Maestro of metaphors
    It's what I proclaim to be.
    The inner wars
    Have taken over me ...

    Incoherently
    Destiny has appointed me
    The great martyr of jealousy.
    All ye minions, follow me ...

    In golden rags, a leper no more.
    The days are glorious.
    I have no more sores.
    I will be victorious! ...

    Pilate, wash your face and hands
    In the river crawling with blood.
    You are high in demand.
    We'll crucify you in the mud.


    Making A Killing

    The dirty streets Filled with blood. And rotten
    meat Dipped in mud. There's no retreat ...

    I killed once, maybe twice,
    An ounce of truth
    Between the lies
    Of an inconspicuous tooth.
    I'm a master mind ...

    Sodomy is the ritual In this unholy town.
    The meaning is virtual,
    Everybody wears a crown
    Of thorns. It's habitual ...

    Hate me.
    I beg of you.
    Kill me once or twice.
    Don't think it through,
    Just do it to be nice.
    I hope your aim is true ...

    And, as I hang on death,
    My last final breath,
    My industry
    Was poetry.

    Now posthumous,
    None the less,
    Infamous.


    Man Made Disease

    To undo
    What can't be undone.
    What to do?
    Run rabbit run ...

    A man made disease
    Inflicted on myself.
    Can't get no relief.
    O God!
    What did I do to myself? ...

    Mad cow
    And chicken pox.
    Somehow
    I've broken the locks ...

    Disease-free ability
    Shocks me down below.
    A worn out family
    Is what I bestow ...

    A gesture of elegance.
    You come to me.
    No more negligence.
    Have you healed me?


    Manifestation

    Schizophrenia elates the poet.
    Things only I can see,
    And relay to show it
    In the words you read ...

    Hallucinations and delusions
    Manifest themselves at my weakest.
    Demon voices and illusions
    Concentrate on
    Hell ... a weakness ...

    I bring myself down
    When smiling is a chore.
    My infamous frown
    From an internal war ...

    They give me an allowance,
    Only so much paranoia a year.
    But, this I have to renounce,
    For it comes whenever they're near.


    Married To My Thoughts

    I get this crazy idea
    To share a life with you.
    That's all it is, an idea.,
    No commitments to go through ...

    For I am married to my thoughts,
    My poems, my prose,
    My little suicidal thoughts,
    To choke on I suppose ...

    I'm sinking in a disabled abyss.
    So dark.
    No hand to catch me.
    So, it's come down to this.
    I never thought, even in my fantasies ...

    I can't do it anymore.
    My mind is broken.
    A crack here.
    A crack there.
    My little mind sores,
    Underneath thinning hair ...

    I'm in love with a serpent's affairs.
    The logic tucked between my knees.
    There is nothing there,
    But a slight, cool breeze ...

    An immaculate
    Penis ejaculate.
    Something I will never get.
    And, just like that ... you forget.


    Martyrdom And Ecstasy

    A little bit of me
    Goes a long way.
    Martyrdom and ecstasy.
    Everything's the same ...

    I do not practice heresy
    On a daily basis,
    For it takes too much from me,
    And I have to cover my bases ...

    Your lips once spoke
    What I thought was true
    Those lips that spoke,
    Lies that broke on through ...

    Gullible and naive.
    A child in need.
    I believed it all.
    You're the reason I fall
    Sometimes ...

    A low self-esteem.
    You lowered it even more.
    You were spiteful.
    Mean.
    I'm done with this war.


    Masochist

    He's in my head.
    Just digging into the core of my mind.
    One week he's dead,
    The next, I implore to find ...

    I'm a masochist I think.
    Always thirsty for that physical pain.
    Balancing on a whirlwind's brink,
    And the twisted fibers of my brain ...

    Serve me a silver plate of doubt.
    A tender delicacy.
    These things I can do without.
    Yet, there's a need to be ...

    Always wished for physical harm.
    Why?
    Because it heals faster.
    With emotional hurt, there is no warmth.
    Smack me again and again with the alabaster.

    Master Plan

    When all else fails,
    We've no backup plan.
    Sit back and inhale
    What I can't understand ...

    Falling backwards
    We grip the cliff,
    And pull ourselves upwards,
    And ponder what we've missed ...

    I know not reality.
    I've suffered the demons ...

    My self-inflicted
    Unrestricted Suicide.
    In between my words I hide ...

    Catch me if you can
    Before I fall too deep.
    For I have the master plan
    I alone shall keep.


    Me And The Monster

    Sifting through the embers of desire,
    Lust is a sin after all,
    I hit a live spark, up rises a fire.
    Therein laughter calls ...

    The Caesars conquered many
    In ancient times,
    As mental illness keeps me company
    With an ancient mind ...

    Bedridden sores.
    Paralyzed,
    I won't heal.
    Bitten by more.
    Analyzed,
    I conceal ...

    The pain is strong.
    But, I am stronger.
    We just have to get along,
    Me and the monster ...

    Different strokes of my mind.
    My world all black.
    They all left me behind.
    I won't be coming back.


    Meals And Minds

    I searched the gods
    And the universe combined.
    Out there is a plot,
    For my verse to be undermined ...

    Under tide, the fishes congregate,
    Avoiding the fisherman's net.
    I think it wise to not be on a plate
    Where the fisherman hasn't eaten yet ...

    But, lo, we starve.
    A famine in our midst.
    We hunger to carve
    The meat so rich ...

    Ring the bell.
    Pavlov beckons you to drool.
    Waiting for our meal,
    He takes us for the fool ...

    A Freudian complex.
    In my mind's eye, a cigar.
    A phallic wreck.
    Put to bed the dream so far.


    Melting In The Rain

    A dream within a dream.
    A paper cut on the mind.
    And things we don't need,
    So hard to leave behind ...

    You've gone too far
    To assume what is mine
    And what is yours,
    And what to leave behind ...

    Silently sleeping,
    Warm my bed with incest.
    Secrets keeping
    In my head warm with regret ...

    Flames of desire instigate.
    A new breed of want.
    Names of the liars wait
    For a new place to haunt ...

    Look deep into my eyes.
    See how shallow the pane.
    You're too eager to realize,
    All there is, is melting in the rain.


    Memories

    How much do
    I have to write,
    To get rid of you?
    I'd love to call you, but we'd just fight,
    Leaving me in the blues ...

    So, in the black I harbor
    A pen and paper in tow.
    Memories make it harder
    To just up and let you go ...

    You played with my emotions.
    One day you loved me, the next, not at all.
    My heart troubled.
    In a commotion.
    One day
    I felt so big, the next, way too small.
    And, the secret convictions
    You bought at the local apothecary
    Left me imprisoned
    On love's death row, awaiting to be buried ...

    Alone, in eternal bliss.
    Alone, in this world I guess.
    There's a pocket of doubt
    Filled with the devout.
    Now and then
    And back again.

    My trust in you, unbearable,
    Condemning me to hell on Earth.
    I need a new soul.
    Wearable.
    A substitute from the one of my birth.
    My pain, incurable.


    Mental Pen

    If there is beauty in this world, Please point it out to me,
    For I am a lost little girl
    Stuck in an ageless eternity ...

    My angel soft
    Lines my heart with peace.
    I was caught
    In the dark without release ...

    I paid the piper to keep quiet,
    So I could steal a breath of beauty.
    Yet, my mind is in a riot.
    The scent of death becomes my duty ...

    These words pure from a mental pen.
    My ex told me to let it go.
    Try as I might the pen is broken
    Broken like my frontal lobe ...

    Electric shocks from the implant,
    They nabbed me when I was young.
    I want to write pretty, but I can't.
    This pen is my mental tongue.

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from The Skin of Trees by C.A.D.. Copyright © 2014 C.A.D.. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---