| Dark Poetry |
| Poems by Marc Carver and Donna Dallas |
| Gormley By Marc Carver As I drive up the road I see a man on a flat roof he is like one of those Gormley statures. He is perfectly still as he looks out into the distance he does not move at all could almost be dead it is like he is looking at this land for the first time like it never existed before he got up on that roof and now he doesn't want to come down so he is turned to stone When I drive past later I will see if he is still there looking for something that he will never find. |
| To read other short stories, click one of the titles below. |
| About Marc Carver Marc Carver has published some ten collections of poetry and over three thousand on the net but all he really hopes is that people find something true in his poems. |
| About Donna Dallas Donna Dallas studied creative writing and philosophy at NYU. She has most recently has appeared in Red Fez, Anti-Herion Chic, The Opiate and several other publications. Her recent novel, Death Sisters, published by Alien Buddha Press, has just hit the market. Donna serves on the editorial team of Red Fez. donnaanndallas@gmail.com @DonnaDallas15 |
| Suicide Daisies By Donna Dallas There’s an endless swoosh swoosh from the water that floats me aimlessly and endlessly Is it death…….? or just that dream I feel slight tremors a little quake in my heart a death somewhere in my brewing body not complete yet I sill float I’m Godiva on a golden pool of liquid light that shimmers under my eyelids don’t want to wake yet I love this life so when did I say I didn’t? Now I lay myself down allow you to walk all over my daisies because I am dead by my own decree yet the want of a soul lights me up while the golden pond shimmers endlessly in the corners of my dead eyes |
| The Architect By Marc Carver There is no feeling like the feeling you get when you wake up at four in the morning and know you are the only one alive the deadness the stillness you could almost be dead yourself and not know it. You start to think with a clarity that has alluded you your whole life no doubts nothing to hold you back and suddenly you want to build brick after brick those words that speak out from the darkness tell stories that no one will ever hear but they shout out of the silence like alarm bells warn the sailors of the rocks that lurk underneath. So you piece them together and you know you are making something you don't know or need to know what it is you only find out when you finish then you can stand back and see what it is as if you knew before you started then you look and know and see what it is and for once you know what it is |
| Just One More By Marc Carver I think about whether I should put this out into the world just one more just one more. Even if I only send it to one person just one more just one more. So people can see that I am an artist, I can create still just one more just one more but I have given up on the world just one more just one more. The stillness that gives me this bed is the only thing I want Just one more just one more So if I hit send or not the chances are the world will not see it but no one will lose much sleep for me so for the last time the very last time one more time |
| Decrepit Lovers By Donna Dallas can your wretched throat still gurgle with sound can you spill out something meaningful for Christ sake something human not animal sounds not a cry or a howl…… I lay dead under that moat and listened to the moans of your chains dropping down onto the bridge of a nowhere town what felt like a thousand years ago I waited there yearning………..the blood red moon was stuck above my head it was on me and I glowed red the white bat -- a small albino bat -- flapped against my ear and it wanted my soul -- some have blackened souls some red like the blood moon I wanted to see if I had a soul -- or a lack there of hit me now make me feel human again you can pull my soul out from my throat the way I taught you when we lay dead under that moat and mud was caked around our eyes pinkish blood dripped from our lips and we bed down in the earth to pass time from flesh to blood to vapor |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Payment By Marc Carver I believed in life once gave it all up and my luck held as I ran down the rabbit hole took the blue pill instead of the red. I even found what I was looking for and can still see it now from time to time but I feel different, it wasn't exactly what I thought it was going to be and as you spiral down and down you see that although you had to go and now you are close to the bottom you see the fall was too great the cost too much but one way or another we all pay pay for who we are. |
| Life By Marc Carver It is the test that I just can't solve like a man trying to finish a Rubik's cube with no hands, It is unsolvable just when you think you understand something it turns out you really knew nothing at all so why do people go on wailing and thrashing through time the faster they go the faster time goes and then bang it is finished and you lay there waiting for the death breathe to come in fear for what you have never seen at least most people haven't how could they they are too busy making money selling product they don't sit down and try and solve what it is they are really doing they don't have faith that the wind can take you where you need to be to go only then will you see like me that it cannot be solved but it can be what it is meant to be |
| Night is a Whore By Donna Dallas Splattered stars Angels on horses I feel them so close their hearts beat into my very own Mist rises into foamy fog They come for me I run through the garden It becomes Eden Lose my way Fog behind me All I see is a faint hint of day Smoldering Something roars above me I see an apocalypse in the opening twilight Raindrops Naked and dirty My feet are blackened and callused from running Away and out Of time The hideous moon smiles cynically |
| For poems from Marc Carver and Donna Dallas, click here For poems from Meg Smith, John Grey and J.P. Shields, click here For poems from Kelonie Utley and Judson Michael Agla, click here |