By Oldepunk


At the Altar of Life

granite and obsidian

carved into all that is, was, or will be

are the letters, in silver

of my existence

I am the nightbringer

I am shadow, and dust

lost dreams and broken homes

dark rooms and rust

I appear as you do

but the curse I bear

Oh, the sorrow

you will come to know


life leech


draining sustenance

all of you are candles

But I am a pyre

You will love me, feed me

support me

carry me home

Call me friend, brother, sister, lover

Wife or Husband

we strive to live as you

We wish to taste love

As you do, to commit freely

The curse

And oh, the sorrow

How I wish to give

But all I can do is


And Take

The lies, the drugs, the sex

The gambling and gin

The doctors, the lawyers, the authorities

The institutions that came and went

All to quiet this

raging conflagration within

You can never understand

your love you give and you give

Over and over

more and more

With the fears and the memories

of what has come before

The Wasteland in my mind

haunts dense and deadly

the war with ghosts

that no one can see

This chain of horror

that clenches my throat

Of use to none

I will scorch and burn

Everything I see

I try to show you how to burn

Just like me

I am the nightbringer

And I can only grant you

my tragedy

Oh, the sorrow…

You have come to know

The hard truth you see

the only way to save yourself,

The only way to love me

Is by letting me go

And you know who I am

I know that you see

Mark these words dear

before you burn

Just Like Me




Sibilant Nonsense – Olde Punk


Sibilant Nonsense – Olde Punk (Ramjet Poetry)

I feel I’ve listened
To something
That means nothing
Yet everything
I will leave you
Before you leave me
The mountain calls
And her heart
Is bared
The wind cries my name
Over and over and over
Do I dare answer?
I should go….
I’m lost and cannot find my way back
Is there anyone who can guide me?
Drive my hand into the treasure of despair
Let’s talk business
I don’t think you will ever understand
Just exactly what it is I am trying to say
I don’t think anyone will
I need something I can taste
Moonlit sun
I dreamed I was alive once
Only to awaken comatose
Adrift on a sea of sorrow
I contemplate the tomorrow….

Looking for silver
In the sands of time


[Olde Punk writes for RamJet Poetry]

Wanton – Olde Punk


Wanton by Olde Punk (RamJet Poetry)

Wanton abandon

One ton revolution

Kissing in our Sunday best

Fruitful excursions

I wanna be in your sun

Gaze like a gun

Shooting all the reckless boys

Giddy in their absolution

Crimes of passion in your name

Desire causing action that carries no shame

Green eyes burning in my direction

How I wish to dance in those flames

Serve me something that will please

Lick my soul and fold the crease

Mail me to outer space

Send me into your beliefs

I will wait in the crowd and slowly bleed

Softly appealing to your needs

Hide in the forest whispering hunger

My wanton abandon keyed up on speed

Flagrant and sloven


Poignant and abrupt

Bathe in the caldera

Of your heart

Find love in solitude

When we are apart

I will wait in the commotion

Crying due to my need for you

Wanton childe of abandon

Olde Punk RamJet Poetry


And So… by Olde Punk

And So… by Olde Punk (RamJet Poetry)


And so…

I wrote it down

I thought it out

It is in the skies

And in your eyes

And in the way

I thought it out

I wrote it down

Combine some paint and sin

A portrait of where to begin

At the end of days

I wrote it down

I kick it around

When I come to know

The plots we cannot show

This will be the day

I thought it down

I wrote it out

It’s pulling me under

And tearing us asunder

I am so afraid

That come what may

On that day

What I wrote down

Rings out the truths

Of our dismay

‘Cause I wrote it down

I thought it out

Unable to conquer

The words of iron

Wrought to hold the way

We beseech you

To be mindful

Of that which

You write to us

I know that you wrote it down

You thought it out

I felt the words hammering

My brow today

Smithing words for me

To interpret in your archaic

Tongues that scurry around

My ears as wisps of wind cold

To touch the eternities

Of writing it down

And thinking it out.

And so….I think you know.

Olde Punk

RamJet Poetry