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Poetry Club


About This Club

Poetry club - Poems, ballads, lyrics. Words with sentiment are to be shared here.
  1. What's new in this club
  2. ♥ Cell Phone ♥ Sitting up at night, a bottle in my hand, your picture to my right atop my nightstand, my cell close to my ear, your voice comes in so clear, it's almost like your here, but I'm alone I fear. Your words fill up the silence, like refreshing lemonade, and through this glitchy science comes a sweet serenade. And in your voice I hear a twinge, and in your silence a tear... And in your moan I see, that half-moon smile ecstasy. And though your far away from here, I feel you like a canvas, your soft skin with paint I smear till nothing's left between us. And as you speak I do grow weak like a child, oh so meek, and in my heart I pray the day you and I will get to say: "I love you". For I cannot with clean conscience confess, not without unnerving stress, over the phone my love for thee, lest I should stay and you should flee.
  3. I am a boy. A boy that likes to play. A boy that like to sing and dance, A boy that has some grand old days. A different boy. A boy that likes to write, A boy that watches from afar, A quiet boy that loves his life. I like to think I'm normal. A boy that can eat and drink, A boy that likes sharp things, A boy that sort of thinks. But I know I'm not. A boy that toys with strings, A boy that can control things, A boy that loves to sing. But what's wrong with me? A boy that cannot feel, A boy that cannot "do no harm"... A boy that cannot feel. I can't feel anything. Am I okay? Am I alright? Am I normal? I'm normal. I'm normal... I am... normal.
  4. Title: Head in the Clouds One step upwards, two steps down, each time I lift my leg, wait, 1 second passes, my foot hits the ground. Head in the clouds, wish I had glasses, because the fog down here, it's got me movin' like molasses, chokin' down these unnatural gases, quick sand cement how the time passes, and it don't stop, not even when I'm flyin', cause I ain't got wings, gotta stop denying, my floor's risin' but not my ceiling, Michael Jordan how I float after jumpin', but always my feet hit the ground leavin' me pantin', now by now you gotta be understandin', after all I ain't speaking latin, what I'd give for more time in the sky, wavin' goodbye to all the jokers livin' the lie, waking up on a cloud to meet God in the sky, what I'd do to do more than get by. But you don't understand do ya? I can float, understand, wontcha? Or do I have to show ya? 2 steps upward, wait, 10 seconds pass, 1 step down, shattered bone like cheap glass, painted stone like Joel Bass, 10 seconds till I fell on mah ass, God, are you makin' a pass? Wait... 10 years later and I'm in the chair, electric? Nah, but I'd dare, three seconds blind and I'm there, Jigsaw cryin' cause I ain't scared, all cause' freedom I dared, damn man, sittin' in the can man, sippin' out the can man, everything's a can man, we compost how we livin', clean us out, throw us way, we ain't gettin' recycled, we dyin' today, wait, what is today?
  5. Title: Bright Red Ink The devil's in the details, at least that's what she said, she wrote it all in bright red ink just to get it through my head, signed it with her signature, a name I once held dear, threw it in my face in front of a courtroom for all to hear, stung me like a bee when I'd been sweet as honey, then took my colony and with it all my money, called it irony for all I'd said and done but when it comes down to it in hypocrisy her fortune's spun, so to the sun bid I farewell and to the moon goodbye, for days and nights come but twice a week for this melancholy sigh, I'll take the blame for the loss when those children on high cry, but you won't see me buckle, no, you won't see me break, not when I remain under their melancholy eye, nor will she, the love of my life or at least last month, for it isn't fair for one to be all beauty without a little beast, yet I don't give up, not even when tempted with a lead feast, though I don't get up, but two times a week, because it hurts too much to go outside, when whether day or night, its black as pitch hide.
  6. Title: Ordinary Man Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me, don't you see, I'm an ordinary man, take a look, if you can at this ordinary man Read a book, watch T.V. I'm too ugly for ecstacy, break a leg, drain the keg, now you know what it's like to be me. I'm to la-azy, what is wrong with me, call me ba-aby, please go out with me, wake me from this dream, neurotic fever scene, save me from myself or let me rot in hell. It's painful here, the end is clear, so I grab my beer to wash away the fear, of the unknown. Contradictions, they laught at me, I am not who I'm meant to see, this man inside my head, he wont stop until I'm dead. I'm to la-azy, what is wrong with me, call me ba-aby, please go out with me, wake me from this dream, neurotic fever scene, save me from myself or let me rot in hell. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me, you see, I'm an ordinary man, I play pretend, like when I was ten, pretend to know I can, win the war, win the fight, or maybe just the night, damn man, there he goes again, the adult in me can't seem to stay in his pen, gettin' real on me just when I was listening, to the mirror me, the flipside imagery, courtesy of this neurotic fever scene. Personal hell, more like personal heaven, only catch is the fact that I'm aware of the leaven, may as well be a miner how I'm makin' this coal, diggin' deeper and deeper into this hell-hole, don't think I'll find my way back again. Don't think I'll find my way back again, don't think I'll ever find my way back again, but I keep my shaky self in tact by taking solace in the fact, that I'm just an ordinary man.
  7. Thankyou! Much appreciated. Yeah kinda inspired by Slipknot in a way. Glad you enjoyed them, I generally write lyrics and poetry in spare time but dont really have a place to share it. Glad someone else likes it.
  8. This is awesome, I have been listening to a lot of slipknot lately so I kinda read this as if they were singing it. Really good and I love the imagery it leaves me with, like a battlefield. Awesome.
  9. Initiation of Death I look around at the bodies around me, broken bones scattered in pieces behind me I am spiraling down I am falling down In my head I have fallen to death I’m no longer alive in my head The battlefield feeds my hunger to kill As I drown in my own blood as did my life skills Cause now in my head I am no longer alive In my head I have fallen to death In my head I’m no longer alive In my head I have fallen to death I am no longer in control of my actions Let alone my desires Neurological Science has taken over Nothing more will survive after this last fallen order Cause life now no longer gives a fuck I have chosen death, for death ends all pain and suffering To kill the demons hiding inside me…. Dont worry I'm not suicidal haha, I was in the past but I figured i'd write lyrics to a song to try and explain what suicide is like to those who've not experienced it and to just spread awareness of it. Generally though I like to write poetry and lyrics in my spare time. This is one of them.
  10. Dandelions and Roses do not mix one draws blood the other licks, painful pleasure, toxic measure, thorns evoke the predator. Hunger grows and it shows, stifled blows, bloody nose, pollinate the ecstasy, but from up here its not hard to see. Essence, aura, pheromone, touch it, smell it, like a drone, listen with your senses dear, maybe it will stop the fear. Rain drops from on high, pity pouring from the sky, starving, starving you're not done, drink it down till there's sun. Then snow, just snow, cold as the glow, biting as the blow, then wilting, lilting without the rain, just frozen visions of the same. Petal by petal, gust by gust, this poor rose returns to dust, and beneath the earth lies her grave, beside the dandelions gaze. So pass the days, so pass the minutes, so pass the hours, so pass the years. Seconds upon seconds, infinity jeers.
  11. Title: Cold Coffee Cup The wind whistles, the mill whines, the flesh bristles in these chilled times. The air bites, the sun wanes, from days to nights the earth complains. While mind doth falter, and flesh doth fail, while quiet does psalter, and love doth pale, in the cold, buried all alone, lies an old, cold, coffee cup. While knee's do bend, and feet doth tread, while backs do ache, and earth doth quake, while wind doth blow, and mercilessly so, the old coffee cup doth remain, dully the same. Now, as wind grows quiet, as demons howls do retreat, as Helios does once again rise, and into the skies voices entreat, that old, cold, coffee cup starts to feel a change, his cold exterior starts to, itself, rearrange, and, that one last drop of coffee so cherished, begins to slip down, like a sinner from his parish. Each day it stoops, just a little lower, and each night its saved, just a minute longer, and as the bells of hell begin to toll, our old coffee cup finds himself beneath a sole. His warmth has died, his drip has dropped, his life bespied, charitably stopped. A broken image, of a thawed demeanor, a hollow vision, a tormented master, and all that remains, to signal death's grip, is a brown liquid sputter, and a rusted out chip.
  12. Title: Say What you Want ♥♥♥ I said you could drown if you wanted to, drown in my love, I don't got a clue, say what you want, but please, please don't forget the view. Oh yes I cried when you walked right out the room, and I tried but its just too much to sweep, with just one broom. So say what you want, I don't got a clue, I don't understand what you're meaning to, do to me, I can see, who you are, who you'll be, and I know you'll be with me, as I'm with you... So say what you want, I don't got a clue, drown in my love, yes I'm beggin' you, soar like a dove if you're meaning to, but I know who you will be, and you'll end up with me, you sweet thing you, yeah, its true, you'll end up with me, come on, you know it too, you'll end up... with me. ♥♥♥ Love you guys, hope you enjoyed this cute little poem! Note: I was Thinking it would sound really good as a song sung is kind of a folk-song way, I would love to sing it sometime but I am not a very good singer; if I practice maybe I can do it someday, gotta learn how to play guitar too as I think it'd sound better on Guitar than piano (my current instrument of my choice).
  13. Title: A Child's Dream (How I used to Smile) Do you remember how I used to cry, how I used to sigh and fake a smile, how I used to lie and live in denial? Do you remember how I used to curse, how I used to fight and how I used to lose? Do you remember how you'd be my nurse? Stitch me up nice with whatever was in you're purse. Do you remember how ungrateful I'd be, playing it cool, hoping you didn't see, what it was like to be me. Do you remember how I used to smile? Do you remember, cause its been a while... Do you remember how I hated the rain, how the cold showers only reminded me of my pain? Do you remember how I used to cut, I wore long sweaters so you wouldn't see, what it was like to be me. But you did... and you stayed. Do you remember how I used to write letters everyday, do you remember how hard it was to say? Do you remember unfolding that note, do you remember what it was like to choke, back the tears and back my fears? Do you remember what I looked like, dangling from that rope? Do you remember what it was like to be me? But I swear I didn't do it, I swear I was stronger, I swear I didn't let you down, I swear I'd have held on longer, I-it w-was this drunk driver you see, came out of nowhere and ended my misery... I swear I didn't let you down, but after all, you know what it was like to be me... Now, as you stand over me, are you crying or is that rain? I can feel its soft pitter patter on this stone-cold grave. Please, tell me you remember, please, tell me their tears, please, tell me you love me, and I'll tell you, "Be brave". Please, cry me a river, please, cuss me out cold, please, say you adore me, please, don't be so controlled... I can you feel you're soles, feel you're temperature, feel you're chain, I can you feel Jane, feel you again, but can you feel me, beneath all this terrain? Oh, Jane, please, just let me share you're pain... You've borne mine so long I can stand to see you go on, not like this... But just once more, could you cry for me? Could you show you care for me, still have that picture of me? remember when we were three, and we climbed that tree? R-remember, how I asked you to marry me, down on one knee, just a baby? Oh Jane, won't you please cry for me? Now I hear your parents, "Come on lets go", and I hope, just hope, you urging them, "no". Now the footsteps grow distant, which welcomes the thunder, welcomes the rain and welcomes the sputter. If only now, then what then? Were those truly you're tears, for me, being shed? But now I lie all alone, with only my thoughts, and that single nagging question, do you remember how I used to... Can you forget how I used to: cry, sigh, lie, curse, fight, lose? And just remember how I used to... Smile? Can you remember how I used to laugh, those rare times I wasn't bleeding in the bath. Can you remember how we used to talk, it wasn't always about death, tragedy and pain, don't you remember the days when it didn't rain? Say you remember my voice, that giggle I'd try to hide, tell me you remember my choice, my resolve to make you my bride. And a child's dream never changes, it just learns to migrate into the recesses, and the recesses of the brain, away from where all the pain is... And I think I know now, just why I'm here. It's a message from above, packaged up neat and delivered here, to the doorstep of my fear, written in capitals, crystal clear. And yet... It's like staring through a cold can of beer, on a hot summer's day. Like staring through a tear while you're begging me to stay. And it's hit me like a punch right to the gut, that you'd ask me to stay even today. Yes, I guess, I was always right and you didn't mean it; that tight lipped facade was so that you could believe it. But you couldn't, though you would, until today... And that's okay, I mean, it's true, what can I say? A child's dream never dies, it just migrates into the recesses and the recesses of the mind... Away from where all the pain is.
  14. This is a book I am working on, it is written in sort of a poetic way soI thought I'd post it here. It is about a Jiangshi, a chinese undead vampire. I may post more of it here later (or maybe I'll keep it to myself, lol) who knows. Anyway, tell me whatch'a think (if you feel like it). I intend to tackle some serious social issues with this. Prologue Darkness, a sound like hooves beating upon the ground and then… silence. A familiar smell entails a choice victim. Only a slingshot from the immutable stance of the emboldened figure whose name has yet to grace my tongue stands the prey. Weak and ripe for the raping, stout yet altogether senseless; it is an easy target for the musing mind of defilement. The moon dare not shine her divine light on this moment; the grass dare not keep silent upon this violent apparition nor the wind attempt not to warn the witless victim. Yet, it is by cause and effect that Mother Nature functions and through superiority that she fortifies her lodgings. A blood-stained beast of hell drenched in blood of an amount so much it alludes to post-pregnancy. His mouth, so dark and abhorrent, the blood of the innocent permanently permeating his taste-buds transforms a smile, a laugh, a yawn into a most surreal contradiction. His fingers, spindly and raw serving almost as several misshapen proboscis threaten the victim even after death has said his cold good-byes. His hair, stale and unkempt turn-coat from its originality under the eye of the divine moon goddess; it serves as a scarlet foresight into the existence of this inhuman terror. Thumping, a continual loathsome beating equatable unto that of the drums of war. A blood drenched orgy, dancing triumphantly almost as if in rebellion against the mance of the victim lying beneath him. A trail of entrails naught which the insects may refuse as their own. A meal deprived of meat with left none but a bone to with scorn the bypassing beast; a feast from which comes no sustenance but for the glutton of whom stripped bare all before the declaration prevailed unto the multitude. Jiang Shi
  15. Title: Sweet Devil As you walk you are bombarded with: pictures of ecstasy, rumors of obscenity and as you run towards visions of serenity you are only bombarded still... And that face, unblinking as if frozen in time hanging onto this one rhyme, it haunts you. Sweet devil. One hand on the bible and the other in the cookie jar, how did you get this far? House in denial, you're pain's gone viral, how are you living now? It's time to put yourself on trial. Would you take a stranger home, hold them down until they moan? Its not a hard question so what's with that tone? I wonder... Would you sit down in a club and throw you're money to the dancer? Please, sir, answer, its impossible to deny a stance here. Would you blame the victim for her choice of clothing? Oh, now what's with that look of self-loathing? Sweet devil. You say, "no", every time, but you lie, live an ideal for this rhyme and they cry. "But young men just wont do, they'll turn you black and blue, they'll break you're heart in two and go away laughing as they do". sweet devil. Its like looking in a mirror, you hate it but its part of you, its like looking to the past, present and future. Oh, what will you do? And these ecstatic images dancing in you're mind, they are only visions slowing the climb. You're blind to their problems but so protective of hers, what makes the majority inferior and one girl superior? Sweet devil. Hypocrisy rules your pitiful life, you warn her of yourself by warning her of them. You don't care and you know its true, you'd never give up a piece of ass if you didn't have to. You can't bear the reality of what you knew. who you'd be, who you were. You can't change the present but you sure as hell can put on a mask if you're up to task. The difference between you and them is you pretend you've changed while they acknowledge they never will. Sweet devil. So just go on condemning yourselves, condemning others and playing the hero, just go on condemning your past while hiding your future, the same prerogative. Just go on and on and on, it just goes on. Why can't you just be good? You know you should so simply do it. Put down the Viagra, can't you think without it? Weakness controls you, don't you want to quit it? Sweet devil. She serves only as an excuse to comfort yourself, to tell yourself you're doin' alright, because facing you're reality, its an awful sight and you can put it off just one more night... On and on and on...
  16. Title: I Love (You) Poetry "I want to write poetry". Such an inquisitive moment but I remember it so well, the warmth of the words, the paper, that smell... It was like nature was greeting me personally, calling me by name ever so calmly and presenting an outlet to present joy, fear and pain... A tag on which to inscribe my name. I feel that same warmth to this very day, it's a start in the heart that dances softly across the spine; an inspiration all mine. I don't need to think about the words and neither do you, just allow the music in your soul to surge through you. Sweater to big for my little arms, slippers too loose around my ankles, blanket wrapped just right around my snug body, I feel just like a child snuggled up close with his mommy. The day will come, when you'll feel the warmth of an open log furnace, an embrace from a sincere face and maybe even... That strangely familiar heat of inspiration, like holding the hand of your crush for the first time; You don't need to look her in the eyes, just allow her warmth to cure you're nerves and pick up the pencil. I want to hear you're ideas, I want to look at your mind, I just hope you don't mind; I know I'd love what I'd find. So don't be afraid, just open up, you might even surprise yourself. I love you, love yourself and always remember, don't let anybody else dictate how creative YOU can be. Stay positive whoever you are, you're priceless; here's a playlist of all the songs that make me feel warm, happy and inspired.
  17. I strike the face of folly Peering not into the future but the past As I wind down that staircase of regret I do not glimpse my own true nature
  18. Title: Language of the Universe (Like an Endless Flood) Bath towels and Cigarettes, long nights unaccompanied by rest, warm water above this bloody drain; I'm being drained myself, I'm being drained. The drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood, wading through this water, wading through this mud. And the language of the universe, it knows my name. The language of the universe knows my name... I'm not the same, I'm not the same. And the drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood. I wish I could turn it off but the handles broken. I wish I could shut it out but there's a crack underneath every door! There's a crack underneath every door... Am I really living anymore? This intrusive song echoing from beyond like a chinese gong, how long will it last, how long? How long can I last? I can't deal with my past! Because she's always got the joker and all I've got's the queen. And the drip drop of the faucet like an endless flood. These sounds, they used to remind me of incandescent youth, when I was ignorant of the truth, when we... This song. And I wish I could turn it off but the handles broken! The handles broken! The handles broken! And I wish I could shut it out but I'm broken... there's no way out. And the knock at my door doesn't remind me anymore, of: her touch, her smile, But only that of a corps's... And her tongue sounds the same with much less flavour and her palates unchanging even in danger, or when informed by a stranger... Yet I've been here all the while, learning a second language to justify it. But waters water even to the dead, the lame, the blind and those I try to keep out of my mind! And my mind... "I'm just a sojourner here, I don't understand your language!" I wish I could say, but she'd only respond, "Then what's with that tear?" in drip drops, the language of the universe like an endless flood... I can see it on his brow, in her frown, in the hiding of her face beneath her wedding gown... When will I drown In the language of the universe like an endless flood?
  19. Title: Porcelain Heart ♥ When the day is young and the bells been rung I'll lie awake in this song I've sung. And the scene will go with a flash of yellow, my heart aglow and maybe a pinch of snow. And I'll lie in bed, 'cause I don't care. Those tears I dread can't find me here. Inside my head its Christmas day, strapped in tight to Santa's sleigh. Phone in hand and flight laws broken just to leave that girl a token, of the word's I've spoken... under the covers with furry lovers. My breath's so hot and my arm aches, but its so easy how the bone breaks. And the clock ticks on nonjudgmentally as if it too is ignoring me. The moonlight calls us all sometimes, that's not easy to forget living in these words and rhymes. But I just wish we could forgo the silent callings of the world we know, so we could know one another. Y'know its funny, times not cheap but neither is money and when you work that hard the world sure looks sunny. But cooped up in these porcelain walls I cannot hear those distant calls. I'm not a child and I know Santa's gone, but I just wish his miss could hear this song... Because I'm warmblooded in the winter and cold every other time, and no dollar or dime could break that rhyme. But it's not like I've forgotten the days spent outside, no, in autumn there were a lot. And its not like I've forgotten the days spent on the road, friends side by side and the grass not mowed. No, every time I look outside I can feel that charcoal heat on the bottom's of my feet. I can feel that wind around my eyes and the length between the ground and the skies. And I can smell that smell, so familiar, like a breath of tobacco and a whiff of ginger. But I don't like to linger. If I had to choose between school halls or bathroom stalls I'd choose the latter. But I prefer glass walls where the tick-tock of the clock reverberates like an echo in outer space. Because if the former took first place I'd only ever see that face, and I don't have a can of mace to erase that image from my mind... So I stay inside all day and play, after all, don't all kids wish they could live that way? Now the tree stands tall and the leaves conceal... nothing, nothing to steal. Yes, the tree and me, we've one thing in common; we're both dead inside on this Christmas joy-ride. And I know there are millions, but what happened to the ones place, there are billions but what happened to the "smile on every child's face?" And I can feel it, that Christmas spirit, only when I'm allowed to come right near it, or when they take it in their hands and smear it right on my eyes, "See, look what Santa buys". Why do the naughty kids punishments get prioritized? They'll just fight it out when the fire dies. You get it don't you, you see it too, right? The cold gnawing of this Christmas night? "Loneliness makes it worse and so I wish you might, come and speak with me tonight?" Nothing, whether artful or described could touch me like this, natures call from the mist. The beep of the phone, the flash of the light, it resonates within these walls tonight. Now I can't find the door or maybe I don't want to because these walls are made of glass, light enough to punch through! Now out in the cold, mittens drenched with blood, (or is it the other way around?) I plod onward listening for that sound. But I've never heard her voice, nor the choir and that's always been my choice, so now I'll live like a liar. Any voice will do, its hers its true! Any voice, any voice will get me through. But I feel a cold crunch like the cracking of ice and I feel a sharp pain I've only felt twice. And I know its not nice, its not what you wanted, but I've got no rhymes to return to, no plan B's plotted. So I'll just sit down and stare at my hand, glass protruding and blood pouring from every bruise. But I'm numb and don't feel a thing, this winter will chill me right through this wound. And on this Floridan Christmas evening I will catch frost bite. ♥
  20. My Hands Are so Cold My hands are so cold Your breath so hot In my mind I scold For I've missed my shot Every day is rust, no gold Copper coloured ink blot In the secrets, untold That reside in the bloodshot Eyes, they see but what they wish Tongue to teeth, lips on your fingertip And blood stained clothes make the perfect dish When pain comes before simple companionship Lost in a world of another's creation With my claws continuously aching As I carve a path right towards damnation With no regard for how my own mind is breaking Under the pressure of securing a nation That, with my own eyes, I will see as breathtaking Yet, even still, I struggle to glimpse salvation For I had it once, in your eyes, there was no mistaking A beautiful love, grown from hate and starvation But I fear I will never have the chance of retaking Such, for I cannot argue with your rightful accusation I just wish this goodbye wasn't so heartbreaking ... My hands are so cold, covered in dust and ash And even the fire raging on, leaving Hell in it's path Leaving no chance at love, rather only this immanent clash Cannot warm my fingers like your hot breath's aftermath ...
  21. 136 Friendship, Folly and the Search for Acceptance: My Decision: Fourth Chapter Chapter 4: My Decision He's a friend, who sticks with you till the end. He's a friend who's loyalty does not bend. He's a friend who's shoulder is always wet. Yes, he's a friend you'd never forget. He's a friends who waits for you till the end. He's a friend who does not condescend. He's a friend who'll for you catch others in his net. Yes, he's a friend you'd never repent. He's a friend who see's the best in others. He's a friend who forgives you're failures. He's a friend who writes birthday letters. Yes, he's the friend you'd wish for in you're prayers. He's a friend who best see's through shutters. He's a friend who to protect you plays pretend. He's a friend respecting of his elders. Yet, he's the friend you curse with you're tears. He's a friend devoted to life. He's a friend trying to stay in touch. He's a friend devoid of all strife. Yet, what can be said of such? He's a friend devoted to you. He's a friend from you, but a touch. He's a friend devoid of all life. Yes, what must be said of such? Two friends, one mind. Two hands, outstretched but one time. Two voices, one line. Two choices, one rhyme. Goodbyes are overrated, hello's overstated. Living friends overexaggerated, corpses underappreciated. Pray for the damaged? I say pray for the damned. Fasten your corsage and into hell walk, hand in hand. I've taken for myself a final stand. Created from happiness my own brand. Idealism is fascism and this poem narcissism. And through true is the above, you envy her don't you? -Friendship, folly and the Search for Acceptance: My Decision. Fourth Chapter. Chrysanthymum M.W. 1994. Ed. Death. Unpublished.
  22. It starts first with the thumping, in the heart an anthem rising and from there free-will compromising. Up and down, plod and drown, one with he, one with she. It continues then by taking root of your mind, of your soul; natures goal, logic in the morgue. Dig your plot, its where you'll rot, but dirt is beautiful and sunlight overrated. It's brighter below. Now you're a mole, digging through coal without a prayer for your soul, yes, you are that thumping in the earth, the progenitor of that ever-rising curse. The blind lead the blind and those with sight bind. The blood of men, women and children, it feeds the earth. Blood and water, a holy resurgence giving way to new birth. Veins to roots and roots to snare, well, is it any different up there? Eye's go blurry and minds do spin, bodies grow weary and necks grow thin; however to be wary, now thats a sin. Collect their spines, collect their heads and place them gently into their beds. Then commences the whispering, a goodbye to history, starting first with the stinging and then with the misery; first with the singing and then with the novelty. Come now, join the row, plod and plow and don't ask how... And it all ends with the entrapment of the tongue. Feel that cold heat on your lung and it will tell you your last words been sung. The gongs been rung, the throng thrung and the battle won and those lying dead? None. Corpses close not their eyes, nor lay down to sleep, nor awaken to eat bread; but unwilfully bob in dread, for hellfire cradles them instead.
  23. Let Go Pop the champagnes And roll out the chains Fire in my veins Hold a gun to my brains And go! If three is a crowd we're waging war tonight Riot in the streets under flickering candle light And no one can stop us, no matter how bright For we see the world through touch not sight So if anyone dares to interrupt our delight This vision of vampiric gluttony will sure ignite Fire in the halls, who would dare fight? Listen to the calls and come, take flight Let go! It's an epiphany, the way we live One day at a time is all we give No regrets brings no need to forgive So we live in lust and in lust we outlive In this castle we drink blood: our own, another's, unknown But if you do not wish to taste it, you can give up your throne Take solace in the knowledge you are safe, both blood and bone For when you give up your commanding and assertive tone The power you'll feel under another is just the stepping stone Let go! Too many delicacies to list in word alone, my boy Come, take joy in knowing you can be our eternal toy With words sealed within our throats we surely enjoy Every minute, every moment every second we employ For pain, for pleasure, the line between we doth destroy And if you wish to join us ... I could use a whipping boy Lust is ever lasting and in this castle we adore it Adorn it in blood covered jewels that glow when moonlit For we riot in the midnight hours when God himself has quit When candle light is all we have to see each misfit Eternally clothed in the roles of submissive and dominate For who can hear those preaching the holy writ? Holy water hath no power if it cannot stop the hypocrite So in the dark and wicked hours we all, in some way, submit To our masters, to our lovers, to the lustful acts we commit For no one has ever escaped this moonlit candle pit Wherein we all indulge on the blood where our hearts split Let go!
  24. Title: Untitled It's funny, this feeling. Compression, I'm reeling, laugh track and I'm bleeding yet smiling while pleading. My nerves have gone haywire, my mind is on fire, I'd tell you the truth but then... I'm a liar. I'd ask you to stop, but can I quit? Getting back on top won't stop this trip. I'm down on my knees and I'm begging you please, but what for? I'm your whore and I screw with such ease... Gimp with a lighter, today I'm a fighter, tomorrow a dead man or something much brighter. Now you're holding me down but not like you used to, crying and saying that I've abused you? That look in your eye, mistress why? I swear I'd cry but then I'd die. Noble friends, brass, now distant murmurs of the past. Even the sun's beginning to look downcast. I sleep with a demon, a freak in the sheets, can't stop believing I'm wearing cleats. Mother is grieving and I don't know why, sister's deceiving dad by and by. The whole world's gone haywire and I'm just sitting her, one foot in the fire and one hand on the beer. Got a cold and a fever, just want to be near her, but I can tell now that death's drawing nearer. Hazel and crimson encircle my mind, in this torturous prison there's no time to unwind. This torture... The eyes of a loved one, the mind a demon, but not like the one that I could believe in. She'd hurt me, she'd kiss me, she'd show me no mercy, but it was a choice, and in that laid consistency. I choke on the misery, the pills I can't swallow, revel in the pity and wish for tomorrow; but I know... I cannot escape this sorrow. And now it's tomorrow, yesterday was then, a new body I've borrowed, my pain feels like a sin. She caresses my cheek and lifts up my chin, but things look bleak, because I am dead within. My posture has fallen and cannot return, my blood has slowed and cannot churn. I flinch at her touch and she flinches at mine, it's all too much, what's happened this time? A life in the grey, monotonous play, sacrilegious missionary, secretive orgy. I wish we could stop, but then, could we quit? Getting back on top would require a fit... Note: Sorry I didn't title this poem, but I couldn't think of a name befitting it. Hope you liked it anyway.
  25. Cotton Cotton hands wrapped around my throat And my mind's control is on remote Cotton fingers pressing on my pulse Can you feel the blood blocked by your impulse? You look so sweet while you strangle me And I can't help but beg and plea For more, for more, for more and more 'Cause everything I want is right at the door Cotton lips pressed to my skin Watch you sink your teeth right in I guess razor blades can't cut your tongue Or else this feverish dream would come undone You sound so sweet while you devour me And I can't help but beg and plea For more, for more, for more and more 'Cause everything I want is right at the door Cotton soft and candy sweet Everything about you knocks me off my feet Knowing eyes and a sympathetic smile Knows when my tears are crocodile I've got nothing to lose and so much to gain So I let you take my heart and my brain Watch your teeth sink deeper into my exposed flesh Body carved open as you hold my organs, so fresh Cotton hands wrapped around my bloody entrails My heart's still pumping, brain's clear in it's details But I don't look away or beg you to stop Instead I watch you start from the top Cotton fingers tracing over my now outsides Teeth digging in, making them your new insides And your cotton lips, now stained with my blood Make me want to taste them, oh, how I wish I could ... Cotton lips, so softly, press against my skin And I accept you, I let you, I let you right in Flesh carved open and, with my own blood, arrayed So climb inside this cave you've so carefully made.
  26. Lightning Pillowy soft Neon signs City loft It all aligns ... Watching the rain come down like it's about to thunder But there's no way either of us are going under 'Cause a little lighting never hurt anyone And you've got the marks to show it, you son-of-a-gun! Fingers circling skin lit up by the night sky Everything and everyone has a time to die But in this moment, we own it, and death won't get by 'Cause lighting doesn't strike twice unless we get high I'm busy in the bedroom fluffing pillows for tonight And you're busy in the kitchen trying to get dinner just right 'Cause we've been in bed all day just taking in the sight Of you, of me, of each other snuggled up all cozy tight Neon signs cast shadows on the walls Reminds me of horror tales about halls Haunted by ghosts and caterwauls That send shivers to the heart as it stalls The sight, so haunting, looks gorgeous on you And I wouldn't trade this city for a million or two 'Cause money can't buy the things we've gone through In this city and it's alleys, all the fantasies we've made true Sitting in your soft bed with my feet off the floor Dangling 'cause I'm too small to reach anymore And you're standing in the kitchen, back to the door And I wonder if you know how long I'll love you for 'Cause every time I stand on tip-toes just to kiss your cheek You smile like an idiot and tease me about it for a week But when we're hiding in alleys and trying to sneak Your lips are sealed like you'd die if you even made a squeak Like the lightning pattern on your skin I think that's about as far as I've fallen in Two become one, lightning for the win 'Cause you set my skin on fire with a simple grin Neon signs Electric lights Everything aligns In neon light nights.

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