[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

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

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

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

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

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

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

You're not living, you're survivingDo you know the difference between people and animals?
People and animals have a key difference,
People live,
Animals survive.

Don’t do anything without thinking
Because if you do,
You’re not living,
You’re surviving.

Don’t be without love
Because if you do,
You’re not living,
You’re surviving.

Don’t waste your time,
Because if you do,
You’re not living,
You’re surviving.

Don’t regret the past,
Because if you do,
You’re not living,
You’re surviving.

This life is so precious to just survive.
Human life is done for it to be lived.
Animal life is done for it to be surv

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.

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.

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A birds songUp above the star lit trees
A lone bird cries a song
Each heart listening at that hour
Cannot fathom what is wrong

But each eye holds a lonesome tear
For that birds quivering voice
A song of hardship and of love
Of living every choice

The intro to an age old story
Past from bird to bird
Of the very beginning they took flight
Of every bird song heard

Black eyes pierce the evening gloom
A sheer trip into madness
Though the bird song ends for now
It echoes through the blackness

Alone in the OceanA fleeting dream kisses your face
Leaving a hole in each kiss's place
Each hole to be filled with sorrow's tears
Swam in by schools of colorful fears

The tears make an ocean out of each hole
Alone in the ocean flounders your soul
But despite the ocean there is still hope
Others alone who would throw you a rope

No longer alone you float side by side
And the smile you have has no reason to hide
Together in the ocean you smile hand in hand
No longer an ocean the emptiness now land

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Trust: A Noose

by ~Darckazuee, Mar 9, 2009, 3:13:43 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Trust, the rope that bound my heart to yours
Sweet and innocent like children holding hands
Though the rain falls and violently pours
Bound we hold on with future plans

Through much and more the rope held tight
But slowly the rope began to fray
It chokes me gently when I'm alone at night
Choking me more as you slip away

No longer children you let go of my hand
The rope fraying further with your aid
Little by little from my hand like sand
Our trust torn and dangerously frayed

One day you will leave me and fall away
I had tricked my self, this rope a ruse
This rope you frayed and left me with
Now my death a tattered noose

Trust: A Nooseby ~Darckazuee

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

trust... a noose...

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~sammypajammy21 Mar 24, 2009 Traditional Artist

i love this sooo much! you are so amazing with word... sad cause i feel that way, it hasnt got to the end of the poem.... still awesome beautiful words!

~Darckazuee Mar 25, 2009 Hobbyist Writer

well, thank you but my words are only meaningful to those who can relate. I actually hope sometimes that readers wouldn't be able to understand my sad poems, just my happier ones

~sammypajammy21 Apr 15, 2009 Traditional Artist

yes it would be nice.
but i think all your work is beautiful!
even though some are sad the way you make the words flow make it beautiful. sad things can be beautiful too

~Darness246 Mar 9, 2009

... *Feels bad suddenly*

~Poggyy Mar 9, 2009

i really like this poem, its got lovely description and wording. It makes me feel sad =O.

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