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Best Poems Written by E. R. Ryttersson

Below are the all-time best E. R. Ryttersson poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | E. R. Ryttersson Poem

The Hostile Whorls

I 

king of the hostile quasar ! 
stelliferous beast without origin 

anechoic void-crown usurper of the throne without end 
upon a tundra in the cosmic septentrional : 
fantastically obscure to the naked human eye 
and shrouded in the asterism of shadows ! 

gatekeepers of the GN-z11 realm, 
amethyst-fanged beasts of the farthest space 
pursuing from beyond the ultimate meridian 
to battle the flame-born basilisks of Alpha Scorpii

the star-beasts battle in constellatory theatre,
a timeless outing of the yet another 
anniversary cosmic implosion

        II 

hostile whorls in the night-sky
spin into mass hypnotic effect

cruor of celestial bodies splatter
alizarin spasms across the death-black vista 
which emanates across the heliosphere
as hallucination becomes reality becomes hallucination

   lines between 
   cosmophobia  and cosmonoia 
   are blurred

mystical systems of glyphic code
etched into bedrocks as star-maps 
guide the madman into liminal states 
between this and the great obscure other

Details | E. R. Ryttersson Poem

The Stench of Insomnia

THE STENCH OF INSOMNIA

   narcoleptic deities in charge of the world
   are tangled and detangled in the threads of time 
   
   they are sardonic and bitter and out for revenge 

   alien methane palls 
   and vomit-green ammonia vapors 
   spread in my chamber

   shadowy silhouettes of insomnia lurk 
   like wolfhound packs around the carrion 
   
   i see the burrowed casts of happy people
   but i am unfit to crawl them 

   tonight
   the wormholes to the kingdom of sleep are barred 
   for me 

   i open the veins of anxiety's arch-angels,
   a bleed-through between levels of reality and perception

   stranded in dimensional fossa 
   am i 
   overcome by emotions 

   Hypnos throws a lasso 
   through the introitus 
   which i miss 
   once again…

   sedated yet awake i float 
   on a cloudery of sleepless miasma

   the horse-flies crawl 
   upon this sultry humid flesh tonight

stenches of anxiety and perspiration 

pearls of sweat and stinking fabric

insomniac evangelion writings on the wall :
i ruminate on my nocturnal angst graffiti ! 

   i feel the rot of sleeplessness
   vibrate the very hairs of my nostrils  

   vapors from the interdimensional scrap heap
   fill these tragic sleeping quarters tonight 

i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst 
the sluggish march of ant-eaters 
make way through the Ursa Major 
beneath the fourteenth moon of Saturn

i can hear, when i so try, but quietly in my midst,
the feral paws of a feline God
chasing the spoor of an astral moose 
upon the heavenly tapestry 

   my head is hastily shaven
   and smitten with dandruff and scabs
   my skin is torn and xerotic 
   and insects crawl upon it 
   as i, once again,
   am banished from the kingdom 

the pupae dwells in every stale bog 
beneath the heliacal ascension of Sirius 
in their insectile repose : 
but i am not allowed to enter ! 

i circle around my dwelling-place 
as if a mosquito around a dog-day cistern 
alone and cold and unable to rest : 
my dreams arrest in this malign insomniac spell –
what did i do to deserve this ?

   i wish no longer to enter my bed-chamber –
   but who am I to refuse the gift of Hypnos ? 

   i wish i was haunted by ghosts ! 
   then, at least, i could fear this darkness 
   for another reason 

   i would rather sleep with mares and demons
   than to be forever-awake, even if in paradise 

   i wish insomnia upon my worst enemy : 
   it is an excellent way to break the human spirit

Details | E. R. Ryttersson Poem

Vancouverite Metropolitan Hellscape, part 1 of 5

(prelude) 
 
  the buzzing of the evening insects 
  presage evil ! 

  here are black wolves ! here are ghosts and fiends 
  and here are blackest of demons ! 
  
  and black be the murk tonight with devils ! 

be forewarned ! and be accursed...
you, who set eye on these 
perilous passages and venomous verses :

  you have no idea 
  how dark, complex, 
  cynical and hopeless
  this all can get 

  I

  Twilight has its way, come Night :
  come, cloudings of bloodsucking bat ! 
  come, sleep to the toddlers and calm to the dogs at guard;
  come respite to the dwellers of the parks and the streets 
  come, peace below these stars : 

  the paperboy delivers his papers, 
  the planet spins its distance,  
  the cat kills its rats
  and the rapist has his victims : 
  the youngster drugs himself to death
  first thing out of rehab
  and the girl is sold by the person
  she thought she could trust the most 

 Tranq abusers hide and disappear 
  like roaches at the break of morning 
  into the ruins and cellars and destitute housings 

  scarabs hiss the songs of pestilence and dirty needle : 
  wailing banshees of despondency
  psychotic on the corner of a street 
  screaming their anguish to the lot of the world : 
  unprocessed traumas left to die on the bottom of the needle ocean 

  an unwanted nuisance child
  born from a night of desperation
  is abandoned by a crack-fiend mother 
  rotten to her spiritual core : 
  tragic, suffered, broken, yes - but guilty  : 
  God may have mercy on this demon  but i can not ! 

  and such are the realities 
  of the absolute form of existentialism 
  whose principles govern this world and its human enterprise... 

  impossible moral equations
  float in the Night's aether 
  as all moral philosophies come to die
  at this graveyard of God :
  unfathomable narcotic abyss...
  
  no hope escapes
  the black hole 

  no light escapes
  the intravenous event horizon
  
  gloomy visions of destitute social ruin
  greet the traveler beyond the threshold : 
   
   be forewarned ! traverse at your own peril 

  you have no idea 
  how dark, complex, 
  cynical and hopeless
  this all can get...

Details | E. R. Ryttersson Poem

The White Jasmine Lord

         I

  first flowers open, seasons begin ! : 
  bloom before doom 
  as always

Rajasthani breeze sweet and scentful 
fanning out to the sunset :
a caress ! across the ripeness of apricots

  curling trees 
  winding downward foothills 
  plunging downward slopes

  among the flowering marigold
  and hibiscus lushing aplenty
  vine has budded
  and the pomegranate is in flower
  finally : now, rejoice ! 

the scent of mandrakes and brambles – 
sprout after sprout the lotus shall bloom ! 

  forests drown in seasonal swamping
  below the thunderous cloudbursts : 
  beneath the leaden sky smiles proud
  the parent of this great outpouring :

  O white Jasmine Lord ! 

        II

all the while, i pray : let me go !  

let me escape through the burning funnels :
i am the exhaust of God ! 

i, whose rotting body is sodden with salt-water
and set upon by crabs and electric eels,
my blood is the saccharin which delights 
the truest of our beloved poets : 

   and when i am lonely,
   o white Jasmine Lord, 
   my soul deepens with you !

   allow me loneliness from my demons, 
   for i can not rid them : 

this is a challenge of a life-time,
and a marvel beyond my understanding 

   O white Jasmine Lord : fill my whole heart
   and make me plunge these deeper waters ! 

     make me panic
     in the calm weathers 

     make me flee 
     the warmest embrace 

     make me strip
     every last sackcloth 

     make me stray 
     in the wild desert

     let me do with life
     what the dog does to the other,
     when it sniffs the others' ass