The title says it all, folks. These are two of many poems I’ve written that are directly inspired by my favorite metal albums. Both of these works pertain to a particular album, and their words derive from that album’s lyrics, cover art, atmosphere, mood, pretty much anything I could grab from the music. Think of them as fits of imagination that don’t necessarily reflect the album’s content, but are narrations of the visions I have when I listen to these albums. I’ll probably post some more in the coming months.
The Extreme!!
Morbid Angel – Blessed are the Sick
Drilling with assiduous strength
Into a graffiti-scarred skateboarding ramp
I gazed in the hole, found it hollow
The inner walls flickering with chili neon
I sledgehammered the ramp to slush
Busting my way into the underground room
There, in a weaved nest of barb
I found the fire eggs
Oval spheres of zigzag striped red and orange
Glowing yellow with shouting caution
I, being a typical being
I smashed them all to chili pepper slivers
Unleashing the sickening heat of the wild flames
Knocking the fire about the room with my bare hands
As if disciplining naughty children with abuse
Once I contain the lava yoke
Once I condense and compress the fire in my cupped hands
I’ll sneak hell into the outside
Unleash all the burning alive gently in the dirt like a newborn cub
Watch it grow and roar
Fill up the outside with the violence within
Mottled Wedding Locks
Type O Negative – Bloody Kisses
The last chance she had
To fulfill a promise to herself
No one else in this dank house
Just her, the lilies, the occupied coffin
An unclean window shaded midday sun
Casting a pale green in the room
Lilies into autumn leaves cling to sickly summer dreams
Strips naked of funeral clothes
Pries open the lid, breaks a nail
Bleeds a little on the burial dress
Drips upon that beautiful face
Like drizzles of maraschino cherries on whipped cream
It was now or never
Satisfy love now or decay like her beloved BFF
She came on her lips
Haunted clenched teeth with her breath
Pulled the last of her out
With a slow hand digging with want
Into the sand hills of dead breasts
Pale green sun rays hang like iron chains in the murky waters of London bay
Shackling this portrait in gloom
There’s rotting death in the dollhouse
Lovingly painted by undying love
The wilting lily sheds its leaves
With shame over what comes natural
The girl finishes her kiss with a vulnerable heart and a drilling fear
