Von-Darkness

Twisted words and spider webs, wind their way through both mouths and portals. Alabaster skin often crawling with mistakes, and the angry march of many tiny legs. Twitching eyes feasting on blackened lungs, and longing to devour burnt out hearts. The crimson seas flowing stops, and poisoned pincers close in again. Memory rolling onward and unwinding, As eggs hatch and the feast begins.

We all feel like ships, Setting sail upon the seas. But we're nothing more than lepers, Spreading our disease. We feel like ancient tyrants, Who could take the world by storm. Yet we're only the forgotten, Lost before we're born. How we love ourselves so well, We're nothing more than forgotten. Oh when we seem so swell, We're just a little downtrodden. The setting sun on the horizon, The dulling stars upon the sky. We're the lasting longing imprints, Of our fading kind. The children of our nations, And it's only feed, Characters without scripts, TV shows with no TV. How we love ourselves so well, We're little more than fo

I sit and I watch, I wait and I know, That the world all around me, Is changing too slow. And I feel like there is, Some kind of poison in me, A sickness, a toxin that is tainting my dreams. I am not what you see, I am not in my dreams, I am not in this moment, I am nothing it seems. I find I laugh at nothing, When I know you're not here, But the voices in my head, Don't seem to care. So now I feel this abandonment, Has finally set me free, Of my last gasping breath of sanity. I am not what you need, I am not asleep, I am not hoping, I am nothing it seems. And while I wander, I see you go by, And like some demented spect

I'll sing you a summer song, a tune of wind & heat to melt the snow. I'll call out to you words of longing, to make your frozen heart begin to glow. I will bring you scented beauty, that will take your winter sighs away. Find you fragrant opulence, and tear down your world of gray. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - If only you would have me, I'd change our world today. If only you would let me, I'd find our words to say. If only you would love me, We'd no longer decay. Your Summer lord's promises, Just a breath away.

I can speak now my soliloquy, Elaboration with embellishment, And if I wished, make you heart-throb for me. With a single nuance, I'll have your pity, And in a few sly words, I'll have your praise. But what are words, But sounds given meaning, Simple syllables that we so name. I am done with the over-complication, Of such a rhythmic strife filled life. Done finding new words to describe how I feel, That my poetic skills may thus be praised. Now I feel naught but loathing, Towards these days of upending ambiguity. All is existence and in the end, Nothing more than added lines upon my page. Write yourself oh poems, Because I

In my hollowed hole I glorify with wicked words That hold no sway in life I treat the sickness inside me Like a dear friend Oh I like to lie I bottle up the awful hate Seal away my cry Oh I love to lie I defeat the most bitter doubt Pretend its all alright Oh I live to lie I know everyday is the same, Forgetting the awful pain Oh I'm going to die I take one last deep breath, Reflect on my life Oh this is good-bye

See the soldiers form in lines, Lifting guns to salute the sky, Fire raining from above, Gunshots sing to us of love. Feed the earth with flesh and blood, Soak the ground now everyone. Watch the world burn in tune, Our destiny and living doom. We make war to feed our old, Upon the young's flesh and bone. So drop the masks to the floor, Let the dolls go limp once more. No more puppets here on strings, Tear away our marionettes bindings.

I see you clothed in crimson spray, A whirlwind of blood-soaked grace, All the world stops at your beauty, Pierced by your dagger-like stare. Your skin is chill to touch, And thy complexion is most fair, With an embrace not unlike the tomb, When you softly whisper my name, How I do, foresee mine doom. Arms outstretched to hold me tight, Clothed in darkness, cloaked in night, You promise eternity, You promise rest, As you lay my head against thy breast. And as the world doth fade to black, I kiss your lips and don't look back. How I love you my sweet sweet poison...

I cant fight this feeling, though I hate it so much. I think I love you, though I don't have the guts... to say anything, so I'll tell you with a kiss, what use are words, for something like this? I forget how to speak, when you dance in the room, I forget how to lie, when you tell me "soon", I'd say that I like you, but I know that's not fair, because I really adore you, and I'm in heaven here.

I am what I am. Flesh and bone, muscle-tissue, Body-soul, sound and voice, thought then feeling, direction and all speed, shapeless and yet concrete. Experimental and now permanent, happiness and sorrow's choice, love of life, and light in the darkness, everything within and without is me. I am eternity and I am nothing at all. The toil of a lifetime and the chasing of the wind.

We are lip-less smiles, Our guilt ridden consciousness's, Are naught but unturned pages oft floundering in denial, Never do we acknowledge the other side of us that always lies below. To prove my point: People will always wish for there to be a way in which to be shown, What to love and who to hate, That they may lead their silly lives in war and peace, Then perhaps find the middle-east in their mid-west, Maybe make it a place where they could nest, And farm cattle in bullet-proof vests, While they all cheat, lie, and mine oil. Perhaps if it were true, We'd all have our rest, And sleep easy for a week or two, Before they yet ag

Love can be many things. It is as vast in its meaning and uses as the stars in the midnight sky. It can inspire poets and artisans, it can bow kings and make fools out of the most enlightened of men and women too). However for all of it's various meanings and translations, there seems to be quite a bit of debate on what "Love" actually happens to be. Personally I believe in what Aristotle and the Greek philosophers taught us. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "There Are Four types of Love." l - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Agapē: "General affection". Often used to describe the things you like; be they a favored item, a hobb

When one whispers words of contradiction, From one's own heart to one's own mind, There in lies the stigma, That keeps us double bind. We are fail-able creatures. Neither spirit nor just flesh. And it is the seat of our wisdom, That keeps us guessing and yet... It is the heart that brings us happiness, But almost always leads astray. So in the end we walk in circles, Till we then wait for judgment day.

          A world of absolute reality,          Is a world in which man,          Is no more than,          The false god,          He pretends to be

As a writer I control my world. I can make my people sing, I can make them cry, I can make them fight, Or I can make them die, I can create the greatest classic, Or the sweetest romance, But I also have it within my power, To make it a tragedy, Or a magically happy ever after. Essentially making me the Villain, Or the stories True Hero.

Often I find myself watching things... Observing, Looking, Mimicking, Changing, Learning, Growing. However if one chooses to follow this logic, then ultimately you come to the conclusion that you are not yourself. But rather a collection of past experiences & influences that are shaped by your reactions to them. And those simple reactions are in turn shaped by the past experiences of the people around you. In short; "I think therefore I am." Or alternatively; "They thought therefore I am and they will be." Think about it, if it were not for thought, people wouldn't be more then mindless animals and yet I find this simple truth is m

How many turns within turns, Must a man built his fortune? How long must he strive, For that which is transitory? How much disappointment, Until a man becomes blind to success? For as long as it takes? A life time of learning? A moment, a second, a hour, a day, a night? Will the seas waves stop for the righteous? Will the storms stop for the homeless? Will the heavens stand down and testify for one mans soul? The answer is no, I think not, Let us be truthful, No way in hell And yet we believe ourselves to be equal, To that which cannot be fathomed, That which is beyond what is reality and what is ethereal... And we willingly

Volatilizing venomous valves, of valiant vicarious vicarages, valorously dappling drapes of depressing deponents, dancing dangerous diagrams, across agents answering alimony, arguing angrily against, beasts bastardizing brilliant bouquets, balancing borderline terrors, triumphantly trialing tribulations, trying tons towering over them, the people who's poverty, paralleled predicting pages, practicing particle pentacles, pre-generating preemptive precautions, against the volatilizing venomous valves, who started it all.