Lyric Poet

Poetry by Brent Futo

Copyright Brent Futo 1980-2005.

Home | Lyric Poetry? | Index | Mandi | Vampires | Rebirth | Inspirational | Dark | Erotic | Love | Love 2 | Love 3 | Hate | Romantic | Romantic 2 | Friendship | Societal | Regrets | Biblical | Religious | St Johns | Historical | Curses | Traditional | Humorous | Nature | D/s | Short | Undefined | Non-Lyric | Vows | Proverbs | Audio | FAQ's | Biography | Photos | Links | Awards | Store

 "My Wife, Who Does Not Love Me"

Though those lips sing silence,
And these words fall frozen,
In this Ice-age of your mind,
Though your hands be stoic,
And my heart unchosen,
Still, your soul I ache to find.
Though those eyes be blinded,
And your ears unhearing,
As you pass before my face,
With a cold stare distant,
And an eye untearing,
My importance is erased.
Cursed by raw rejection,
Void of all affection,
Thus I live this wretched life,
In the next existence,
Like a bad infection,
Still, you'll be inside me, wife.

"Taxing the Poor"


The drumbeats of doom loom over the morning,
The low sounds of death, each note pounds a warning.
As old men consult, and generals chatter,
The young men prepare, their entrails to scatter.
They pray to their gods, and hate their own mothers,
For bringing them into a world where their brothers,
Are cursed by their kings, with glorious lying,
Conscripted at birth for this day of dying.
The drumbeats now cease, replaced by the voices,
Of desperate boys who never had choices.
In moments, their flesh will meet swords and axes--
For this is how poor men have always paid taxes.

"Affection's Resurrection"

Reaching for you from the grave...

Slain by an unreturned love,
A raptured, fractured, captured heart descends,
Into a gray pauper's grave--
A silent, violent, tyrant's reign thus ends.
Yet, from its deep earthen pit,
Entombed in wombs of gloom and hopelessness,
Somehow its beat does emerge--
Fear it, hear it:  spirits in the mist!
Into your subconcious ear,
A fleeting, beating, pleading sound befriends.
Death shall not hold this tongue:
A teasing, pleasing, easing song begins.
If in life, death is my lot,
To choose you, ooze you, lose you in the end,
Distance, my voice shall not still--
I'll break through, take you, wake you once again.



She slips through days in subtle, unobtrusive ways--
Cloaked in corridors--unrequited glances laid
At her feet--victims of her inate, apathetic gaze.
She does her work by quiet, most-efficient means,
Wearing baggy-fitting clothes, hair pulled back, she cooks and cleans.
Yet they come--suitors drawn to assets dating from her teens.
She tells them all in blatant, not-uncertain terms,
Only one will share her hearth, feel the heat within that burns,
One one--lover of her secret dreams, for whom she yearns.
She slips through days in subtle, unobtrusive ways.
Yet at night, in sleep she wakes, lost  within the lovers' maze
Men create--Once betrayed, a heart beats fainter day by day.

Isn't she a lovely bride?

"A Silent Toast at a Friend's Wedding (Who Stole my Bride)"

May your dreams appear to be coming true
Just before they fracture, turn to dust,
And choke your spirit, at the final hour of fruition.

May your heart engorge itself through and through,
Fill of hope and laughter, love and lust,
Then burst its vessels in a sudden change of its condition.

May your children live to be riteous men,
Wide of eyes and wisdom, seeing all,
And know your secrets and perversions, hating your relation.

May your life be full of hidden sin,
Shame, and lies, and cancers, painful falls,
And may your God be damned ashamed of you, his worst creation.



As a cancer, silent in remission, I await,
Lurk beneath your epidermal bliss,
Spreading lies diseased with rage and hate,
Born into your body by my kiss.

As a vulture, watching your destruction, I appear,
Poised to eat away the very flesh,
Pressed against my body now and here,
As I whisper lies and inuendos fresh.

As a fire, I desire to burn you into dust,
Build a pyre where faith and reason rest
On my coals, 'til they become a crust,
Crumbling dust, whenever love is stressed.

As a demon, vying with the angels for your soul,
Caught between eternal peace and pain,
In the end, the evil steals the show--
Only hell and jealousy remain.

"Soul Predator"

soul predator

Who is this dark companion, just beneath your skin,
Seething in your veins, gnawing its way out,
Feasting on your flesh, savoring your soul,
Steeped in desperation, fear and pain and doubt?
Who made this alter ego, surfacing right now,
Eager to destroy, ready to devour?
Is this born of God, or is Satan's hand,
Strangling your spirit, tighter by the hour?
Why did this soul I once knew, pure and innocent,
Disappear and fade, slip without a sound?
Is this punishment, for you, or for me,
Or predestination, to lose the love we've found?
What if I stay here with you, defying all the odds,
Unafraid to face, this menace inside?
Will it capture me, as it consumes you,
Or is there a place, together we can hide?

"(Very) Blind Dates"

Another blind date...

You've had your lawyers, MBA mates,
Engineer boyfriends, architect dates.
You've had consultants, soldiers with stripes,
Even those pretty boy, management types.
You've had your corporate planes with champagne,
Professors and writers with turbo-prop brains.
You've had  Joe Millionaire kissing your feet,
Trying to buy your sweet, three-foot-up treat!
You've seen them all but, did they see you?
There's so much inside you, they never knew.
Brains are a blessing, beauty's a curse,
Because of their blindness, I saw you first.

"A Needless Life"

A needless death

She needed no one,
Or so she said,
Up until the day her rotten,
Isolated corpse was dead.
She wanted no one,
Or so she thought,
Taking comfort only in the
Fancy things she often bought.
She trusted no one
(And not herself)
'Til the day they baked her body,
Stored it on a metal shelf.
She loved but no one,
This cold, old maid.
No one mourned her at the gravesite,
Where her wrinkled ash was laid.
She once knew someone,
When she was young.
But she chose to kill his spirit,
With her prideful heart and tongue.
She has a marker.
It simply reads,
"Here she lies, just as she lived,
Somebody without a need".

"In The Closet"

In The Closet

She wears her wounds wistfully,
Wondering why she abides here at all.
She mouths her words silently,
As a tree in the forest, alone in its fall.
She guards her heart hastily,
Trusting in no one, not even herself.
She shields her soul cryptically,
Like an unopened present, still wrapped on the shelf.
She pleads her case stoically,
To her best friend--her entombed closet wall. 
So anti-heroically,
She's wondering why she abides here at all.


The Weight of the World

Do you have a bloody clue,
How it feels to disappoint you?
In my life of tragedies,
There is nothing it compares to.
I would rather spill my blood,
Than to just once disappoint you.
Disembowel me, singe my flesh--
These are things I'd rather go through.
In my eyes, your spirit dies,
Every time I disappoint you.
God knows I'd give anything to
Never have to disappoint you.

Copyright Brent Futo 1980-2005.