Reality……...is
Fantasy………is not
but
a fools hope
.
.
.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
Tag: poetry
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My poetry is dead
To those who pick themselves up in silence, un-noticed, lost, but won’t give up
I know how it is
To go through the daily ritual. Unwilling to yeild, but exhausted and tired
Some of us with partners that are cold and frigid, not giving empathy, affection or love shut themselves off from you, then you shut yourself off
Others, who are single, but with the same fire in your heart, to give it all, but nobody to accept your power and love, you shut yourself off
You feel deeper, down to the working foundation of others, to touch, express your heat.
Open nerves, always giving, just wanting that touch, the lips, the pressure, to taste, to experience.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025.1st published on Substack
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Curse
Energy
Given freely
Is as breathing
For me
Understanding
Until now, ive had so much of it
But, frankly
I
Am
Utterly
Exhausted
I
Speak Truth
I
Endless hope
I
Set
Boundries
I
Don’t give up
……Why do I feel guilty?
Truth
I
am
prey
Human predators smell empathy
As
Sharks smell blood in the water
Allowing myself to be used
without equal reciprocity
Used
Endless cycle(s) of neglect
Affection to weapon
Sex to Weapon
Shrunk as weapon
Tool of endless emotional grounding
Control
Power
Stability
Comfort
I
Am
Tired
…….So very very tired
And I’m afraid
I
Have
Changed
I
Am
Broken
Victim
Survivor
Pariah
Empathy is a curse
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2026.
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Pariah in the company of Phantoms
I am Pariah
A life devoid of touch, love, passion, a pillar of rough-hewn granite, to make other’s lives more comfortable so they don’t have to feel guilt. A mirrored avatar to reflect what they want to see; taking responsibility for the cowardly acts of their Phantoms.
Selfish Ideological Narcissists, making victims that exist in the interstitial spaces, Acceptable losses in the war.
A living taboo, stigmatized, no one wants to touch this flesh, it is taboo made real.
Aged masculinty shattered into dull edges, ego ripped out, longtime ideological identity destroyed; the devouring mother’s hunger satiated.
I no longer want to try to identify with anyone, as anyone, or with any group. All are phantoms.
The gulf is now infinite. Not your spaces in-between, because nothing exists on either side.
Playing my part in the background, while the Phantoms roleplay; it’s the curse of total detached awareness & empathy. Pain hidden in the shadows, invisible to all.
Pariah is my rightful place, I am the sacrificial king: I will let this demon eat my soul.
……and I will REVEL in the consumption
One with the Pariah that haunts the
interstitial spaces
the Pariah that whispers to the
phantoms in your nightmares
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2025. Originally
published on SubStack.
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Balance
I don’t usually preface my prose, but I think this one is important that I explain. This peice comes at the end of a hard year plus of soul searching after acknowledging to myself that I was sexuslly assaulted. After nearly two years plus I buried it deep, but in the fall of 2024 on a cold morning while filling my car at Costco it all came back and hit me like bricks of ice. I barely made it through the day at work, but I did it somehow. All assault victims experience the same things, but men especially white men are given very little acceptance or grace by soceity as a whole, left & right ideologies judge heavy on your worth after, or even your right to claim victimhood in a world that wants you silent. It took most of the year to consider myself a survivor.
I guess its the times, but I have spent a very long time pondering aggreivment after being swallowed by it and spit out. The pull to hate and rage at those of the opposite sex was strong, some days it had consumed me. Too blame ALL women for the actions of a few, is absurd! I don’t want to be bitter or aggrieved, I think this poem captures the toxic cycle of aggreived victimhood. I had come to terms and this poem exposes what it is. Yours, Jake
Why does the bar tip the other way, while trying to equate and balance both sides?
to much weight on one pan
the fulcrum tilts, the beam always holds, the beam always wins
the villians are now the oppressed, the once oppressed villiansTransmutation of suffering into bitter rage
Alchemized survivor becomes the predator
Spittle & spite
Vengance so bright
Inferior to superior
Your Humanity now blight
My dear organizing systems forming entwining, no boundaries of the bottomless hunger
of self-righteous rage
the victims, the survivors
It doesnt matter to It who is in control, It doesnt care about justification, the thing exists.
Hoary worm of eons crushes bones, devours flesh, pukes blood, gnashing sinew, slurps guts, sucks entrails smashed
made into mash
Bulbous rot, engorging the gullet, suffering inside the gaping hole, digested birthing vile gas from the fermented bile of humanities sins
Orborus the obese worm, engorged distented on your suffering; prey-as-to-predator-to-victim-survivor-as-to-predator…as-to-victim…it’s the sweet….
…suffering
sweet…..
…sweet…….sufferingsuffering
©️ Jacob A. Pickard. 2025. -
Cacophony
Cacophony Album Cover – Rudementary Peni release 1988
A wall of sound, like a train into solid mountain granite
A cacophonic quartet of smashing rhythm
Surrounded by darkness and a halo of thin light.
The bar, black walls, stale smoke and beer
Illumination of execution by genocide, crucifixion for/of beliefs
Murder, letting of blood
Metamorphosis
Material to ethereal, body to spirit
Or some would call it glory, ascendancy of man to heaven
Cyclical thunderous melody, droning and blooming into monotonous complexity
Bombastic renewal of circles cycles, of intricate repetition.
The eye of Isis, the death and rebirth of Osiris. The annual flooding of the Nile.
Life is a system, the process of rearrangement of cyclical moving parts, like a wall of sound.
Written around ~1995 after seeing the band Neurosis at Okayz Corral in Madison, WI. It was so loud I couldn’t hear correctly for an entire week. ©Jacob A Pickard. 2025.
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Strength
I’m stronger than you’ll ever be
Because, to endure and have your sanity, to make it so long, a clearly defined character, rock hard in its clarity
I am strength
hidden in the hot exhale of your breath
only seen in the cold void
when there is nothing left
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. -
May Haiku
Things have changed.
Time vigor pride beaten down by the club of life.
Resurrection?
Not while we’re alive.
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. Written ~ 2010. -
White Whale
I have no white whale to consume my soul, I am that white whale. Born a beast a monster: failures, oppression, hurt, murder, rape, death, genocide, femicide, and even your internal misery. I am your enemy i am your monster.
qualities you possess, your biological virtuous signaling superiority; a kingdom built of rage safe space for authority
victimhood aggreivment gives you power, self righteous-justification, superior unquestioned objectification
of me, the white whalepluck out my eyes, spear my flesh, spill my blood, sickle my fat, bind my girth, blind me with your spit, hell hath no fury like your scorn upon me, i am your monster, your beast, a sacrifice for the goddess your ruler above, penetrate me, rape me, a mangled object your conquest that was born guilty
Yes be Ahab, understand
While lashed on your shattered ship
Sinking into the ocean abyss
”Damning yourself was a choice, you created your end by decision, your agency was your own.”
“Never understanding the nature of revenge while you let me consume your soul, do you understand you never were free, as long as all your thoughts were always centered on me.”
I, the white whale swims free, I will forever, be the last thing your living eyes ever shall see
©️ Jacob Pickard. 2025. -
The next EROHERETIC
The next one is going to be extra dirty and kinky…….I asked Jake if it was too soon? Well.. -
In the spirit of total resistance
This was a compilation punk 7″ from the early 90’s to support the Mowhawk native American Resistance against the Mexican government. This is a lesson on what needs to happen in the United States.
To resist is to change yourself.
You must become a warrior.
We out-number the villians in this world.
There is NO room for apathy.
Only TOTAL resistance.
Ecoheretic 