Creating a Succubus

Today I started back to my poetry roots.  Which are stories.  Not so much a reflection of any of my emotions as it is getting stories out of my head without it taking days to complete.  I enjoy this because it's fun, quick (usually), and exercises the mind a bit.  It took an hour to produce thirty solid lines.  It's been awhile since a poem has taken me more than fifteen minutes to write.

I made myself sit down and write even though I wasn't feeling it.  Sometime you just gotta suck it up.  What started out as a poem about a woman that takes souvenirs from lovers became a morality tale about a succubus.  I figured if shes taking something from these men it should be significant.  I could have taken the easy way out and had her collecting body parts, but that didn't seem as. . . intriguing.   So I made her a succubus and put my own spin on the whole myth of these creatures.  Now, not only do I have a bitchin' poem about a soul sucking demon bitch, I have a blueprint for a short story if I so decide to expand on the character.  Win/Win.

Ezekiel 3:18

By Bryan Jackson

Only a fragile human doomed to die

I take up arms killing, screaming at the sky

A woman said “you follow God or follow Lucifer”

She begged me to find good in all, but

all I want is to watch the sun fall.

People are outwardly obnoxious shit, or

they hide it deep in their soul where it forms a pit

The only difference between them and me

is that Hell’s a future I can see

Nobody fears the consequence for their actions

but, when it comes they want repentance to cause retractions

I am no better than anyone else

I just have no regard for myself

Killing to cleanse and make space on Earth.

 Praying,

 the next generation will appreciate the miracle of their birth.

Internal Hell

By Bryan Jackson

A personality both lovely and vile

they love it, but will scorn it after awhile.

A lifetime and still no crew or posse to name.

Day after day the isolation flickers then burns like flame.

The heart corrodes and becomes a serpent of Hell

as it slithers and pollutes, intestinal tracks swell.

Spleen ruptures and poisons the bowels

every face in the family damns you with scowls.

Blood rushes and fills the scrotum sack,

boils filled with disease cover an aching back.

Tear ducts are overrun with yellowish puss.

Maggots ravage the vocal cords in a speedy fuss.

None of this is fatal to the body, just the soul.

Now I am as I am treated, like a sick troll.

Without anyone else to corrupt I am my only victim

my hate paralyzes and shorts my nervous system.

My urethra is clogged with biting mites.

The pain is nonstop and blurs my sights.

Anus overflowing with foul sludge.

I beg it to leave, but the serpent won't budge.

It tells me everyday, “You will die soon enough.”

“but, what you endure now is foreplay. Death's where it gets rough!” 

Love Her Back

By Bryan Jackson

A woman states and thousands of miles away

screams in her dreams because of her heart

she loves too much and

can’t recall when the pain began to start.

Others take advantage of her and disrespect

she gives chance after chance not exploding as of yet.

Her children watch as she slowly loses her cool

she has had enough of being played for a fool.

Those whom she has loved and cherished

are on a path of which they shall perish.

While asleep they are gagged and bound

operations performed without a sound.

They tore out her heart leaving only pain

fuckers didn’t count on her going insane.

Now, they are awake and she carves into their chest

blood flows and covers her

the warmth of it is the absolute best.

Wanting her love back she rips out their hearts

it isn’t enough, so she digs deeper

cutting them into numerous tiny parts.

Their meat minced and slowly cooked in stew

let this massacre be a lesson to all of you.

Give as you get and never forget

fucking with the wrong one will get your neck slit!

Self Aware

Take

the lasciviousness of John Wilmot

the hard drinking of Charles Bukowski

the depression of Anne Sexton

and infuse with

Edgar Allen Poe's nightmares

and you have an image