Random poems from Raven's Catalogue

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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Mon Apr 25, 2016 4:55 pm

"Kneeling Before My Past"
Forgetting the whales in my pod.
Laying prone, phoned in my life.
A tube, a tunnel to my lungs.
A chunnel through my mouth.

The nurses are Nazis.
This place is a chop shop.
Parts of me sold to the highest bidder.

Wandering from the herd,
I heard will bring relapse.
Staring into cat eyes,
circling the marbles with my shooter.

Less than a year, you're
stepping in the morass.

The river is carrying your troubles away.
As I sit in this log-jam.
Pouring Barleycorn on King Alcohol's crown.
Down and polluted, my thoughts
cannot be refuted.
Dim and deluded.
In my past I am rooted.

Taking aspirin like popcorn,
eating the whole bag.
Ragging on my lovers
and getting sick with parasites.

I might some day glow.
Show a sheen, dream a little dream.

The catheter reeks of poisons.
Excuses, reasons, flowing forever.

I'm not a self-starter.
I'll barter words till I'm a martyr.
Blow my ego sky high.
Leave no dry eye.
As days fly by.

The nurses are jib heads.
Their lips are all red.
I tied to a too short bed.
You heard what I said.

But I do not recall.
Ativan stained it all.
I thought no one called.
No visitors in the long hall.

This waiting room,
barren in my mind,
actually filled to the brim
with brothers, sisters, and friends.

Gratitude like a poignant whisper,
that I can't quite hear now.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
3/14/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Mon Apr 25, 2016 5:08 pm

"The Mule"
Every kind word feels like love.
Bared, and talons tear, a mare
surrounded by stallions
a mule in a duel
with one with fuel

Her calm demeanor
you should have seen her
demure and dimpled with the curse
of youthful skin, they're all in
let's see them hold her when she plumps
when the humps of living have
devoured her overpowered form.

The jackals circle the exposed flesh
meshing with haughtiness and overregarded
time wounds all its travelers
favored fighters left in disregard
Marred up, dissolved in solvent
that we all must try to resolve
involved, evolved, revolved and
finally
hoveled in our niche
groveling in a ditch

Every moment like a plunger
held high between her thighs
I sing your name forever
climbing to notes I can't describe
the rise of falling fast
grasping at 'because of this'
last call for the mules
to feel barren and used

By: Russell Jay Keenan
3/21/2016


"Chewing with the Toothless"
Trap house, bed bug ridden blouse.
Rap blasting, week long fasting.
The past, like thick blue tar
wall-papered, crystalline bar.

Dope den, penned in warrants.
Just a crib, railed in jib.
Roped in, turmoil in torrents.
The spoils of welfare's coils.

Rooms filled up like tombs.
Mauseleoms of manic meth.
Death foiled, boiled in spoons.
Museums of aching breath.

Broken recliner beds, lazy boy,
until the bong bell rings.
Unspoken manipulation destroys,
Heroin of Troy, hell sings.

Dusk, drugs, diggling trust.
Rusty chainsaws, morning a must.
Pawn shop a foregone stop.
A pillow of coming down, a rock.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
4/12/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby DJ_Darkside » Mon Apr 25, 2016 6:23 pm

ravenrussell wrote:

"Chewing with the Toothless"
Trap house, bed bug ridden blouse.
Rap blasting, week long fasting.
The past, like thick blue tar
wall-papered, crystalline bar.

Dope den, penned in warrants.
Just a crib, railed in jib.
Roped in, turmoil in torrents.
The spoils of welfare's coils.

Rooms filled up like tombs.
Mauseleoms of manic meth.
Death foiled, boiled in spoons.
Museums of aching breath.

Broken recliner beds, lazy boy,
until the bong bell rings.
Unspoken manipulation destroys,
Heroin of Troy, hell sings.

Dusk, drugs, diggling trust.
Rusty chainsaws, morning a must.
Pawn shop a foregone stop.
A pillow of coming down, a rock.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
4/12/2016



I really related to this one, raven. I once lived in a house with 6 people. Typical dope den with only a couple of people having jobs to support the habit; the rest leechers. It's this illusion of what I call "weed friends". Those who are there for you when the drugs are flowing and no where to be seen when there is none. You need to cut weeds... I've had everything taken from me by these kind of people. I had to build myself back up from nothing and it was a long time before those scars healed. However, I regret nothing and would not have changed anything because it brought me to the state of mind which I am in now. Just like your sig says: It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything. Truth, all of it. I look forward to more of your work! Big welcome fellow Ninja!
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ALL HAIL LIEUTENANT DOCTOR COOLCHUNKIA ESQUIRE THE THIRD JR.!!! Lest she blow chunks of cool up yo asssss!!!
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/anna hack! :kiss:
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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Mon Apr 25, 2016 6:51 pm

It is a tough life to break away from. Congratulations on making those essential moves. I have given the last year of my life to sobriety. It has been time well spent. I, in no way, judge any other fellow ninjas who may be struggling with drugs, or heck, maybe still enjoying them. We each walk our own path, mine was corroded by alcohol, drugs, gambling, and lying. I feel much better today. I live in a state, WA, that has legalized weed. It makes it that much tougher on me. Thank you for your kind words. I am home.
Peace to all.
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Postby ravenrussell » Tue Apr 26, 2016 9:00 am

I appreciate any and all critique. I strive to become a master of poetry. Compliments are wonderful, but suggestions help me immensely. Thank you for your time.

"The Worst Nights Never Die"

The stutter stop of shocking static discharge
Barging, scene set, sexual betrayal, cinema large.
Knife illuminated, inflated homicide, let's bleach
the whole joint
what's the point?
If the sickness feels so good,
then the cure ever seems it would,
soul, ephemeral, melting and cold.
Bold declarations, Folding over
Mildewing Lies, Cries of Fidelity
Clovers, three leaved and useless
Stability, consumed in the mess.
Reality, a friend of convenience.
Employed by the thoughts I breed.
A murder of crows, perched like seeds.
Denied blessings, she opens the douvey,
to convey the loss, the cost, feeds
the descending daze of an endless
maze,
crazy,
disjointed and pointed paternal tests.
Blazed, no longer amazed at the lingering
pests at rest, a lasso of latency.
Fingering the cut, stitches in infancy.
Redundancy begin, let my infamy begin.
They were always playing darts...
They were always playing coitus...
Always neighing and saddle backed.
What I lacked, tacked to the board.
It tore when you ripped. Stripped
on stage, let your milk white skin
drip. Bottom lipped, pouted within
Justifications and Ramifications,
Journal of a mad woman, frutrations
spelled out in foreign disasters.
They were always playing darts...
They'll always be saying join us...
The flutter, the chop, ocean liner floating and fucked.
The scuttle, spacemen saucing the vacuumed radiation.
Neighbors like moonbeams, gravity assisting reparations,
the hole annoints,
where he points.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
4/11/2016



"Silence Like an Organ"

The same silence you stored socially
in bomb-shelter, iron bank vaults.
She implores the room in leftover...
...echoes.

The same silence I squandered
with bulldozer tongue work crew
speeches, diatribes, inside you...
...breached me.

The same silence for which he...
...salivated.
She strokes the rifle stock.
Oiling the barrel in spit and shine.

The same silence sold in bulk,
in sacks of shit, a brothel of bugs.
She meant the best, but bent...
...the rest.

That silence that snubbed the stars.
Constellations making a racket.
Spinning coffin lid, hidden...
...by dirt and grass.

That silence when you spoke.
The breaks in conversation...
...ghostly,
in the x-rays I keep laying around.

That silence that saving...
...the wounded brings.
She spills her thoughts after tripping.
I am left with a patient foot held out.

That same silence, switching albums.
As the inebriated DJ remembers,
he didn't make the music he blasts...
...he but flips records.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
3/25/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Rwn
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Postby Rwn » Tue Apr 26, 2016 11:58 am

So far I've read the first one. I'm at work so I'll read the rest later but.

Wow, I've never been able to create a poem that rhymes maybe I'm just odd like that but I really do envy those that can. And a bit dark than I'd normally appreciate but still very well done.

Keep these coming
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Postby girlapaloo » Tue Apr 26, 2016 1:15 pm

Thanks for creating an outlet here and sharing with us! :)
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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Tue Apr 26, 2016 4:51 pm

Rwn wrote:So far I've read the first one. I'm at work so I'll read the rest later but.

Wow, I've never been able to create a poem that rhymes maybe I'm just odd like that but I really do envy those that can. And a bit dark than I'd normally appreciate but still very well done.

Keep these coming


Thank you Rwn. Do you have a particular style of poetry that speaks to you? I would enjoy tailoring a poem for anyone that's interested. The past two days I have been working on this week's writing prompt. I am attempting to create a poem response. I am glad you took the time to read my work. Lots of practice, and then some more! Lol.
Peace to all.
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Postby Candeeoke » Tue Apr 26, 2016 7:21 pm

I feel in no way able to critique your poetry. I wish I could write something more constructive. I recognize how help it can be to the craft. Your words and cadences give me the feels though. Love reading them.
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Postby Rwn » Wed Apr 27, 2016 11:39 am

ravenrussell wrote:
Rwn wrote:So far I've read the first one. I'm at work so I'll read the rest later but.

Wow, I've never been able to create a poem that rhymes maybe I'm just odd like that but I really do envy those that can. And a bit dark than I'd normally appreciate but still very well done.

Keep these coming


Thank you Rwn. Do you have a particular style of poetry that speaks to you? I would enjoy tailoring a poem for anyone that's interested. The past two days I have been working on this week's writing prompt. I am attempting to create a poem response. I am glad you took the time to read my work. Lots of practice, and then some more! Lol.


When I say darker than I'd appreciate what I mean is that I don't like to see anyone in the mindset to write dark poetry it typically (albeit not always) means they are a bit depressed.
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Postby Syreeta » Thu Apr 28, 2016 3:20 am

ravenrussell wrote:"Kneeling Before My Past"
Forgetting the whales in my pod.
Laying prone, phoned in my life.
A tube, a tunnel to my lungs.
A chunnel through my mouth.

The nurses are Nazis.
This place is a chop shop.
Parts of me sold to the highest bidder.

Wandering from the herd,
I heard will bring relapse.
Staring into cat eyes,
circling the marbles with my shooter.

Less than a year, you're
stepping in the morass.

The river is carrying your troubles away.
As I sit in this log-jam.
Pouring Barleycorn on King Alcohol's crown.
Down and polluted, my thoughts
cannot be refuted.
Dim and deluded.
In my past I am rooted.

Taking aspirin like popcorn,
eating the whole bag.
Ragging on my lovers
and getting sick with parasites.

I might some day glow.
Show a sheen, dream a little dream.

The catheter reeks of poisons.
Excuses, reasons, flowing forever.

I'm not a self-starter.
I'll barter words till I'm a martyr.
Blow my ego sky high.
Leave no dry eye.
As days fly by.

The nurses are jib heads.
Their lips are all red.
I tied to a too short bed.
You heard what I said.

But I do not recall.
Ativan stained it all.
I thought no one called.
No visitors in the long hall.

This waiting room,
barren in my mind,
actually filled to the brim
with brothers, sisters, and friends.

Gratitude like a poignant whisper,
that I can't quite hear now.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
3/14/2016



Brilliant! just begging for voice...So I get why you responded to my poem earlier in that regard, I can hear this spoken ..its emotive and raw, its gorgeous
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Postby Syreeta » Thu Apr 28, 2016 3:23 am

.."Journal of a mad woman, frutrations
spelled out in foreign disasters.
They were always playing darts..."

quote; RavenRussel ^



were you writing about me?;)

just kiddin'...hehe


love it!
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ravenrussell
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu Apr 28, 2016 6:18 am

Thank you so much Syreeta, it means a lot coming from you. I think that "Kneeling...Past" is going to be the one I read. I have been hard at work trying to respond to this week's writing prompt. I can't seem to word my idea for the prompt the right way. I have also been working on writing a poem from a female pov. Projects, dreaming, keeps me going artistically.
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby Brewtality » Sun May 01, 2016 9:09 am

Yikes. Good stuff Ninja! 'The catheter reeks of poisons' actually made me wince!
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu May 05, 2016 8:30 am

"Ten Dollar Words Aren't Cheap"

The Exoteric is Esoteric in itself,
only a small group can comprehend.
Most of us, dictionary gathering dust
on a shelf, blow hard,
across the front cover.

Crack it open to find
a thousand chasms of the mind.
The smell of earth after a long dormant rain,
an undeniable scent that I smell right now,
Petrichor /?pe?tr?kôr/.

This tiny group, called learned by some.
Branded nerd, glasses fogged in the blowback,
by others.
This commune smothers itself in savory syllables,
like a sundae being eaten by a stood-up lover.

If I don't love my native tongue,
who Will?
If I don't masticate (not as dirty as it sounds)
I don't live.
Chew the fat with me 'til we're obese.

Each moment words appear out of nothingness.
A stray Dendrite carries an impulse.
Without this we would not be,
but define Dendrite for me?
I hear the trestles of heaven heavy, creaking with profanities.

Industry Terms,
are above my hard-hatted, blue blood.
Unless you're speaking of augers,
or snatch blocks (again, keep your mind out of the gutter),
you've lost me.

To be found, accepted,
I name drop, I boost my egos, unintentionally plural.
Ten dollar words falling from a bulging wallet of ideas.
I revel in eluding understanding.
Once again speaking in acronyms that only talk to me.

Front Side Bus Speed.
No, the front and the back of a bus,
do not travel at different rates.
It is a computer term.
A language in its infancy, FNG. LOL.

Latin, the dead tongue,
that lolls around like a lollipop
in our our mouths,
Flavorful, romantic words.
Not like Bling /bliNG/,
the dictionary's newest child.

Love.
A word so dense,
that it sinks deeper than can be expressed.
Known by all, Understood by many,
Perfected by One.
"And that One is God, may you find Him now"

I am a bastard,
no, not a despicable person.
My parents were unmarried,
when they spit this 'it' out.
and immediately
gave a word for my being.

A name.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
12/20/2015
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu May 05, 2016 8:33 am

"Kids Don't Read This You May Learn Something"

Front zipper flayed open,
broken eyelets of a bra,
only seen intact once before.
From the dirty bed,
to the filthy floor.

Lingerie, all lacy and linen,
netting to hold you in.
Although I dangled uselessly all day,
you won't see that side of me.
As my belt trips me forward.

Wrapped about my legs from fervor,
a devotion to the lost art,
of making love in a car.
Slippery stallion all brushed,
pony up to the bar.

We searched for your panties,
long past the after sex cigarette.
Sepia, an amalgamation of women,
slips serenely into the night air,
of a Terra Firma still young and supple.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
12/30/2015
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby Phara » Thu May 05, 2016 1:50 pm

oh very nice. i'm coming back to pull specifics later. awesome.
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Postby ravenrussell » Thu May 05, 2016 5:08 pm

I look forward to it.
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby ravenrussell » Sat May 07, 2016 12:15 pm

"Golden Bricks"

Stolen stoles lay furred in fury,
furthermore,
I reckoned to wreck myself once more.
In dreary depths I lay, inlaid,
with played out passion.
Pass me on, a ration of compassion.
And I be gone.

Burned eulogies by burned out people.
Epitaphs and obituaries fade.
I dream in bitter slivers,
fragments of fractional life.
The colors seem to run,
in desperate marathons,
as butter on sweltering sheets.

Onlookers throw pipe bombs
and explosive pickles.
The chore boys clean the rocks,
while still delivering dirty talk.
And all between the you and me
lingers that one, strong, middle-aged finger.
The dead ringer and a whimper.

Gold bricks weigh me heavy
in the waves. The ways and means
heap the waiting water high.
The lost loves line up in endless lines.
Wake up, the wake is over.
Taken over by being sober.
Undead, peat-bog, ancient lakes.

We were pilots in a former life.
We flew off the handle to our wives.
We soared just above Icarus.
Lured toward the reward. Our burning
wings killed, not only us
but all those around us as well
the sun powers heaven and hell.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
5/7/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby ravenrussell » Sat May 07, 2016 12:26 pm

A poem I wrote fifteen years ago. I've been looking through some of my older stuff. Thousands of poems, notebooks filled, boxes brimming. Lots of napkin poems too, or written on the back of business cards, or the back of job applications.



"The Stranger"

Put to bed,
two shoes laced on the floor,
Newspaper,
with stories I'll never read.

The door is locked.
Busy is the paint,
drying to the walls.

Descending liquid,
creeps the open hole in my house.
It is hardened,
called glass,
but I see through that.

Faithful calls,
from lovers I regret.
I've two now,
but numbers are for liars.

The carpet wears thin,
from obvious instinctual treks.
Go to bed, go to work,
back to sleep.

Dirty linens,
covering the creep of mildew.
I've dreamed of lesser places,
but reality pinches me.

The sour taste
of a left behind woman.
The once-a-month,
end of the sentence,
dot on my sheets.

Angels flirt my ceiling,
drape their wings from laziness.
They only fly,
when sinister are my veins.

Drip, drop back into bed
to sleep again.
Watch My life unfold
as I scream silently,
about my body not being mine,
and how my origami lungs burn
from the inside.
By: Russell Jay Keenan
1/25/2001.
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby ravenrussell » Tue May 10, 2016 5:22 am

"Our Many, Varied Ways to Speak"

All these letters, e-mails,
misunderstood emojis.
Electronic innuendos,
laying down crystal clear
in mailboxes lined in fear.

The stamps, the signatures full of gif's.
The ifs and or butts,
stripped of meaning the daily to do.
Post it's full of sexual tension.
Mentioned messages, flexing words.

All the I ams' IM 'ed.
The likes, and the leftover toolbar.
File. Save As. Too distant, too far.
May the Morse code leave me nude.
Long and short candygrams, FTD.

Snapchats of a snapper twittered.
Fitting in 532 friends with a status pending.
Mending fences with a sledgehammer.
Demolition teams writing loving memos
to the alone, down-trodden, former

address holders.
Folding notes and spraying the room.
School children, but bikers in intensity.
A propensity for going postal.
In a world of overloaded stimuli,
I am I, until a meme features me.

By: Russell Jay Keenan
5/9/2016
Peace to all.
-Raven
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Postby AliceElite » Fri May 13, 2016 2:43 am

Ravenrussell wrote:If I don't love my native tongue,
who Will?
If I don't masticate (not as dirty as it sounds)
I don't live.
Chew the fat with me 'til we're obese.


Wow. This poem is everything I love about words.

I would LOVE to hear/see a video of you reading your poetry. I agree with Syreeta, a lot of this just FEELS verbal. <3

I am SO glad to have you hear, this is beautiful. If you want some constructive criticism, pick one of your poems that you want some help with and start a workshop thread where we can throw out ideas. <3 I would SO get in on that.
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Postby PhlawlessPhelon » Tue May 17, 2016 4:34 am

I've read The Stranger and Golden Bricks. good stuff! I will come back soon and check out the others.
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Postby cerrodepedro » Tue May 17, 2016 2:53 pm

Holy wow. The synesthesia alone is overwhelming. Severely guilty as I am about ten-dollar words, I still identify with that poem a lot. Going to continue commenting here. Thank you.
Once was lost and now am lost; was blind but now I smoke
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Postby Philly » Tue May 17, 2016 3:18 pm

ravenrussell wrote:It is a tough life to break away from. Congratulations on making those essential moves. I have given the last year of my life to sobriety. It has been time well spent. I, in no way, judge any other fellow ninjas who may be struggling with drugs, or heck, maybe still enjoying them. We each walk our own path, mine was corroded by alcohol, drugs, gambling, and lying. I feel much better today. I live in a state, WA, that has legalized weed. It makes it that much tougher on me. Thank you for your kind words. I am home.



I can't thank you enough for your sharing this. And welcome home
Never apologize for being nerdy because non-nerdy people never apologize for being assholes - john barrowman
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