So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

I made the wounds in my wrists so deep

I watched the crimson rivers begin to seep

My memories flooded like the blood

Triumphs and failures clear as mud

Ever since I was a boy the first thing I knew was sadness

I saw the slow dying of life and learned of death’s badness

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I’ll think I’ll be okay

I tightened the rope around my neck

Took my last breath saying what the heck?

My body tumbled down obeying gravity

Like the sins of my past in their depravity

The involuntary tremors making me flop like a fish on land

The body’s begging for a thimble of air or a rescuing hand

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Loading the pistol with the right ammo for the task

I need maximum damage for all the filth in which I basked

Would it take one hollow point to the brain or two?

How many girls were victim to my lust, just a few?

One is too many so I will load the cold gun all the way

Cock back and a flash sends my head into gory disarray

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Just one more my discerners I promise it’ll end soon

The tales I spin are pieces of a whole perfectly hewn

My final death was in oil and water among holy things

It was on a cross I carry daily while my angel gently sings

This suicide doesn’t evoke past sins and misgivings

It beckons me ahead to celestial glory and thanksgivings

It is certainly as bloody a death as all the rest

But it leads to the end with our one last test

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

-CL Fuqua

Love I knew

Twinkling light dances off your hair and shimmering eyes

November night gifts me the sight of your breath in sighs

Barely perceptible but every bit a part of who you are

Such is the love between us burning and pushing oh so far

I found myself in places I said I’d never be only because it was with you

I stretched morality and conviction to the limits simply for the view

Waking up next to you still wrapped in passion and delight

Unforgettable if not a little regrettable in light of the light

But you don’t exist anymore as I swirl the memory in my brain

I could knock on your old door but the girl answering won’t be the same

The love I knew is no more and the whole world cries

A part of me died and won’t revive no matter who tries

Love I knew

Was not true

-CL Fuqua

Reflections by the fire

Lighting the stuffed pipe I shook the match until its burning tip extinguished into nothingness. “You know” I began, puffing a few times to get a good cauldron of embers going before continuing “I was writing a story just the other day, or I guess you could call it a poem.”

“Oh? What about?” Asked my friend who was sitting opposite me in front of the fire place basking in its warm glow.

“Romantic love, loss, heartbreak and regret. All the usual you know.”


“But funny thing, I remember writing about such things ad nauseum in years past and it flowed effortlessly from the pen. Whether it was any good or not I can’t speak to objectively. But the point I’m stressing is the ease of working with heartache as a subject. It was the paint and the page was my canvas. I had it in abundance and filled up the canvas end to end.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve read all of them.”

“You have my eternal sympathy and gratitude. But with this particular poem I found myself at a loss for words. It was like pulling teeth getting the sentences on the page. I think I know why. It has been so very long since I felt the way about a woman in real life as I described in my poem that I couldn’t naturally produce it. I’m forgetting, old friend. I’m forgetting what it was like to love someone so deeply that losing them is like a nuclear winter. Losing the one you love is the pestilence which destroys your harvest…forever. But I don’t feel that for anyone and it’s been so so long. Would I even be capable of loving someone in such a manner?”

“Well…” my friend began.

-CL Fuqua

God made me

Why am I me?

Seeing so clearly

I know exactly the way I am

I know why those nearest ran

I can be the killer

Or maybe the healer

I have the blue eyes to melt your heart

I have the jagged teeth to rip it apart

God made me the way I am now

So did He leave me here to drown?

I wanna be wise as the serpents and gentle as the dove

But I only bite like a serpent and have no love from above

How long till God takes my life like a wisp of vapor?

This fruitless tree is better off being used for paper

Scrawl a warning over my body for all to see

Live as this vile youth and be cut down as he

But can I really be blamed?

For being merely untamed?

For all my faults and misgivings can you not see?

I am never more or less than what God made me?

-CL Fuqua

Death pulse

Look upon the one you love

See how her beauty resonates

Pay attention or you’ll miss it

Day by day her light fades

Until only a faint echo remains

Death creeps

Death seeps

Death pulsates

Death inculcates

The ones who raised you since you were young

Family surrounds you giving love

Teaching you all the ways to live life

But just wait and you will see the truth

One by one they disappear into the shade

Their instruction a parody against what’s real

Death is real

Death won’t yield

Death pervades

Death invades

Death surrounds

Death abounds

When will the endless entropy finally come to close?

Does the cycle of loss have its turn to lose?

I feel my spirit and life force inside me slowly slipping

I am not the youth I was just a day ago

And tomorrow I will be more decayed than I am today







The Horror Inside

From the outside its a nice house

It’s a well maintained house

But inside there are horrors

The things that merely creep on the edges of your mind

The shadows which you dismiss for the day’s business

This house is teeming with their unhallowed glories

Nonsensical figures of a cosmos bathed in nihilism

Classically gothic spectres of centuries gone by

Twisted physical deformity and violent fleshy transformation

Creeping crawling wriggling vermin scratching their way throughout

Inside this house are all the things which you timidly refuse to look upon

Except tonight

Tonight you will be entering into this house

You will be swallowed up by the horror inside

Have a Happy Hallow’s Eve.

-CL Fuqua

Serpentine polymelia

CasCades of infinite chaos mixing in a orgiastic maelstrom of decay and depravity.

Colors tHat should not be and light from nether beyonds colliding in the physical and metaphysical planes all in a godlessly glorious instant.

No moRe structure or pretense of form and coherence…


The serpentIne polymelia slithers on forever consuming

the clicking of clawed appendageS never ceasing or Resuming

It need noT nor want

doth feed rot yea Haunt

all one can do upon its appearing is hope to die


Moon girl

I remember the first time we met

And you do too I’d be willing to bet

The moon was suspended bright in the purple night sky

Cause I can’t come out to play before I watch the sun die

You smiled and I introduced you to my fantastical pearl

I smiled as you showed me yourself, my pretty moon girl

Your hair was jet black, face pale white, lips blood red

My first heart attack, No more fight, fell in love instead

I’d kill or die to be back in that first night once more

I should’ve walked away for all that was in store

My pretty moon girl never meant me harm

I ignored all my sense’s incessant alarm

So now the moon is all I have to remember you by

I can think of you as I look up at the night sky

What’s my pretty moon girl doing under the same starry night?

Maybe someone else like me is falling for her in ravish delight

No matter, I am dead as history inside and out

She shines on as I sit here in the past and pout

Pretty moon girl I still have space for you in my heart

As long as the moon hangs, my love will not depart

-CL Fuqua

Burning embers

Glowing ash trickling through the air one by one

Illuminated by black night floating into nothing

Vestiges of a great act of liberation

Bastard children of a sacrifice to a starving idol

The burning embers are remnants of a bridge

A bridge that once held meaning and moments

Now immolating into fire to light my way

The fire consumes and subsumes the grand bridge of our affections

It is just a pyre of smoke and flame here to light my path

Burning embers swirl through the blue purple night sky dancing around me

As I tread my fire-lit path away from what we were

Burning embers burning bridges to light my way away from us

-CL Fuqua