[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 847 bytes more ▶

More from ~DarkestNocte

ColdSnowflakes
Adorn the frigid pathway
Grace the frostbitten door
Flutter in the frozen air
Like pristine butterflies
So flawless, so cold.

Glacial winds
Frost the chilled windows
Caress the freezing trees
Lace the artic breezes
Like fine ribbons of ice
So exquisite, so cold.

My heart
Is draped in subzero chains
Wrapped in numbing tendrils
Encased in a frosty cage
Like an alien, locked in a foreign world.
Eternal, everlasting
And so, so cold.

MusingsMusings...What are musings?

They trace along your mind
Fluttering on the borderline
Of subconscious and conscious.

They invade your mind
At the most inopportune moments.
On the edge of sleep
Amidst impossible imaginings.

They demand attention
Once in a while.
They demand to be put on paper.
They order the tasks execution.
They won't leave you alone.
Not until you do.

And sometimes, musings seem
Somewhat unfinished
Like this

But the Moon Speaks No ReplyBounding through the white cold snow,
A silver streak of glistening fur.
The deep and golden eyes,
One could say were haunted,
As the wolf stood alone at the mountaintop
And howled, a ghostly sound.
Crying at the callous moon,
But the moon speaks no reply.

Slicing through the sleet and snow,
Motion meets precision;
Together held in one beast's flesh.
A perfect, elegant balance.
Hurtling to conquer,
The tallest of the peaks.
Swift as a bullet,
Silent as a shadow,
Pounding through the dark, cold night.
Pointing its muzzle at the distant moon,
That everlasting ball of sickly light,
But the moon speaks no reply.

Dancing in be

AloneI feel so alone.
Even the moon
Stares down at me
So coldly.
I can feel ice
Strangling my bones,
Cracking them
Destroying
Even the core.
The dirty whiteness;
I can feel it,
Bleached, slimy and foul
As it runs
Down my cold face
Slithering to my blue toes.
And I know
That the very moon
Disdains me.
I feel so extremely alone.

I feel so alone.
In a bustling mall
Where people jostle me,
Shove me,
Mutter at me
To quicken my pace.
But when people
Glance around,
Not a single look
Lands on me.
Their eyes
Flow over me,
Like I don't exist.
I'm not worth a glance.
Like I am nothing.
A patch of
Overly empty air.

Freedom of a BirdThe golden sand upon the shore,
The salty smell of sea.
The water lapping at our feet,
The sea spray in the gusts of wind.
The crashing of the water,
Beating on the rugged rocks.
All this I can know of,
Standing by the mesmerizing sea.

The trailing lengths of slender rope,
The smoothness of the fabric,
The utmost joy that lifts my heart,
As I watch the brightly coloured kite
Flit across the crests of waves,
In that turquoise ocean.
All this I can feel,
Standing by the midnight blue sea.

I watch the little kite
Skim across the sky,
Ride along the currents,
Dance among the soft white clouds
And waltz partnered with the bree

Die To Be With YouYour hand, so cold, so cold,
Your hand once held in mine.
The plug of a machine pulled,
The ties holding you down cut.

A tear glistens upon an old picture,
A faded one of you and me.
One afternoon of happiness,
One late night out in the dark.

Some place you used to hug me,
Some place where I felt warm.
Why was that driver drunken,
Why did it have to be you.

With a cold gun to my temple,
With your last words in my heart...
I know your spirit soars now,
I know I will join you.

BLAM.

View Gallery

Featured in Groups:

#PoeticalCondition
A safe place to express yourself

Details

Submitted: December 28, 2012
File Size: 847 bytes

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 3
Favourites: 5 [who?]
Views: 53 (0 today)
Downloads: 2 (0 today)

[x]

Imagination

by ~DarkestNocte, Dec 28, 2012, 6:13:11 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Imagination is
Delicate white candy floss clouds,
Crisp green forests no-one's ever seen,
A blazing sun rising over a frostbitten world.

Imagination is
Wishing for things you know you'll never have,
Seeing things that will never exist,
Feeling things that no-one else will ever feel.

Imagination is
Twisted black hands wrapping around your neck,
Skeletons stalking you through a misty forest,
Ghouls ripping out your soul by twilight.

Imagination is
People long gone still lingering in your dreams,
Photographed memories coming to life
An old teddy bear that sings you to sleep.

But above all,
Imagination is
The essence of my very soul.

Imaginationby ~DarkestNocte

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

I feel like my soul is constructed of a million fragile parts, carefully collected and picked up over the years. But the glue that pulls all the irrelevant, tiny segments together is my imagination. The day my imagination dies is the day my soul disintegrates.

Without my imagination, I'd be that person who stands in a meadow and blows a dandelion, but then stares longingly at the fluffy seeds flying away into the horizon, knowing that he'll never be able to get the pieces back.

~~love 0 0~~

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Estuari Dec 28, 2012

You speak in beautiful verse and metaphors even in the the Author's Comments section. Lines that caught my attention were "A blazing sun rising over a frostbitten world" and "An old teddy bear that sings you to sleep". I like how you included both the harrowing side of the imagination as well as the side that allows us to love the world.

~DarkestNocte Dec 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you for your time and feedback!

~Estuari Dec 28, 2012

Your welcome

More from ~DarkestNocte

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

Imagination

Imaginationby ~DarkestNocte

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style