Outside of my life as a blogger and Lyme Disease activist, I am also a writer, with a long history of writing poetry. The poems below were written previous to my diagnosis in 2010, as I have not written poetry in some time. I hope to continue to write poetry once again, eventually, but at the current time I am better able to write prose.

illumina straggling star 

I'm a belligerent mess
on a matchstick

demure in
repetition red
choking on the
malcontent shine
of intrusion-

unable to stomach
a 21st century
loss of self.

I've been moored
ruptured at genesis
waning catatonic on
tribulation hymns

gut-side to
anxious daylight
unsatisfied with 
dissolute fetishism-

I'm a synergy fiasco
a monopolized

mirror me
and wail the
child's song

wear your empty
smile mask and
find respite in the
human illusion-

our kinship found
in catacomb hearts
and immolation eyes.


i've become terminal
with blood crags in
the childless hollow

and mother's milk
cannot soothe an
afflicted conscience

disinclined from wanton
virility i am unstrung and
vapidly robotic

a genesis of anxiety and 
distance with a smile like
an atom bomb

i am not a miracle but
the monstrosity is mine
to hold

fearless in my
lack of belief-
a mere pantomime
of normality

there is no golden boy

no compassionate savoir

just a scatter-brained
chimera disassembling
the past

repetition red

i am back
waning on 
a cycle of 

ligaments undone-
another petrified
soul-mouth with
misery on her breath

an illumina straggling
star lit up like
perpetual notes
of distress

i am rust on
the gut of plane
sailing into 200 miles 
of sea

i am ethical
amidst a weary

emblazoned gray
with a monarchy
of ash

i am

i was

always the

an amalgam of
human distention
on the firing line of

still a boy, dancing.

you carry experience
like dead weight

captured in time
by the paranoid 

a silent crackpot
fear your only release

in the microcosm
of your fantasy
this is not so

mother like a
jubilant sage
bewitching your
every move

but I see
beneath your 

how you remain
always the epicenter
of fault

still a boy dancing
with traumatized breakfast
parties and clenched fists

I've longed to know you
but cannot find the heart
to connect

half a century of 
beleaguered tenderness
stretched between us

we are strangers-

one of us caught
in ignorance

the other too far gone

© Kenneth R. Mercure, All rights reserved.