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Best Poems From
ROBERT L. BIXLER III
(February 14,1985)
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13.
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Crestfallen
Release the depths of hell in me
And raise furies for the world to see.
Scourned and burnt, blackhearted and alone;
Death's pugnate odor becomes my cologne.
Wraith born of pure hate,
In me, awake late.
Infernos to burn the insolate
Beyond what one can relate.
Burden of dark heart
And desire of blood's red flow start
Daggered tongue and triggered fingers,
I stand tall as your last breath lingers.
Await the final reckoning
When all my fury is self-incriminating.
Laid to rest and life sullen,
I am the crestfallen.
Wraith born of pure hate,
In me, awake late.
Infernos to burn the insolate
Beyond what one can relate.
Guard your soul as I come to take
That which was denied. Fear my hellish wake.
Forgiveness is divine, but mine is of requital.
Bleeded heart and dried soul, my punishment is fit for all.
Wraith born of pure hate,
In me, awake late.
Infernos to burn the insolate
Beyond what one can relate.
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: hate poems, red poems, fear poems, alone poems, dark poems, death poems, heart poems, world poems
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14.
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Dancing in the Rain
As the thunder rolls in rhythmic claps,
Her sweet memory rides on cool wind.
My siren calls for heartfelt relapse,
As the nearing of isobars send
Me further into my darkened past,
Illuminating scars with a momentary blast.
Like the arid desert flower, my mind opens,
To the soft, moist touch of the nights storm.
My knees give, the world slowly dampens.
In emotionally charged air, a visage takes form,
Stops my heart, and seals beauty in motion.
This soaking moment becomes loves potion.
As the wind twirls, her perfume spins
Round my head and charges my stance.
My body shivers, in all lusting sins,
With the wind toward this lost romance.
Raised from my respited hap chance,
This storm is beloved last dance.
The thunder steadies somber beat,
As I hold her in torrid, classical frame,
And waltz in stumble-step loving fete.
My mouth opens, but my words lame.
Memory recalls her softened skin
As I pull her, yet ever more, in.
Her embrace chills my very core,
As my eyes tear unapologetic.
Soaking clothes hug the contour,
Disguising desired flesh heretic.
As was with Venus and Aries,
This storm only temporarily tarries.
Rain to lips tastes of Bordeaux,
As we live in texture kiss.
The thunders deafening crescendo
Culminates this longing reminisce.
With the last clap of heavenly thunder
Her visage slowly fades, as we sunder.
The diminishing rain strips with despair,
As gravity summons my head to earth.
My soul wanders with you elsewhere
On the winds awaiting loves birth.
My death secured, with last thunderclap
I awaken, remembrance of pains unwrap.
The echoes of your last five words,
Waken me from sweat-soaked sheet.
In one breathe, split my innards
Upon forked, motionlessly discrete.
Your words burn still evermore:
I dont love you anymore.
Robert L. Bixler III
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15.
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Devil Pup
(This is dedicated to LCpl Casper, USMC.... Keep your head down! !)
Devil Pup o' Devil Pup
Show me the military way.
Tell me how to drink all night,
And still carry on with the good fight.
Blood stripe on a starch blue background,
One hundred, thousand proud souls bound
To the legged-seamed sign of honor
That's worn throughout the Marine Corps.
Devil Pup o' Devil Pup
Show me the military way
To steal the hearts' of girls abound
With that hardcore cadence sound.
Break their hearts
Before the trouble starts
Because you know
That you'll be the first to go.
Devil Pup o' Devil Pup
Show me the military way.
Tell me how to strike fear
Within all of my enemies dear.
With a smile on your face
And a salty-tongue blood taste,
Let the enemy know who your fighting for,
The United States Marine Corps.
Robert L. Bixler III
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16.
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Escape
Lonely steel blade, on skin, slides
As the forgotten child weakly hides.
Cold, soft brush of damnation
Brought by soul-capturing lamentation.
With head raised to the beautiful skies,
The child realizes the truth in all lies.
Compliments dim the subtle undertones
Of what is observed beyond dry bones.
Warm flowing red liquid of life preserve
Fills the void in the tile cracks, never deserve.
Fist to mirror, destroy distasteful reflection
That burns wet eyes with fires of self-recognition.
Night falls, lit room gives to a shadows creep.
Cornered in bloody tile, the child can only weep
As glass hands raise high self-ordainments tool.
Heaven cries as innocent blood begins to pool.
The child falls to the floor with starry eyed gaze.
Social seclusion and still heart blur to blood moon haze.
With lasting breathe, the child sings joyous
Notes of hellish escape in deaths final chorus.
Robert L. Bixler III
Read more: child poems, mirror poems, lonely poems, beautiful poems, truth poems, moon poems, red poems, heaven poems, death poems, night poems, fire poems, children poems, sky poems
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