[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

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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.

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.

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The CathedralStained glass teardrops
Trickling into softly flowing rivulets;
Down, down -
Breaking into streams of iridescent colors,
Pooling across the stone of
A house of the great divine,
Spiritual solitude answering
The unspoken inquiries of
Quietly treading feet;
Whispered words of revere
Calming the benighted heart -
Welcome, child,
Welcome home and be loved.

ClarityAnd suddenly everything is clear;
Sunlight cutting through crystal,
Casting rainbows on a once-clouded mind,
An out-of-focus camera finally finding its focal point;
Understanding of what was and what is
Dawning on a previously desolate husk.

The id, the subconscious-
All is realized and known,
Finally peace may be had
And new growth may push out
The old, rotten foliage of sorrow
And mistrust;
Calm sweeps over tumultuous thoughts
As ever-sweet sleep descends
On a jaded mind.

You Say You CareYou say you care;
Then, sweetheart, why
Are you afraid to share
What I so willingly offer?

I give you all that you except
Freely and without return;
I held your hands even as you wept,
Yet you wish for none of me.

You say you're changed;
I know better.
Sometimes even teh best must be rearranged;
It's simply the way of life.

I have so faithfully waited,
Seeing none but you;
But yet you leave me unsaited,
Shriveling in your wake.

Kebi, Mistress IntroHer pressence surrounded him.

He lay next to her, watching her chest rise and fall with each slumbering breath she took. It was so unlikely, their union. She was but a mere mortal, and he a god. Yet here they were, laying exhausted and dreanched in sweat. Kebi, that was her name; Kebi, consort of the god Amun-Re. He slowly reached out and traced her delicate Egyptian features, admiring the honey-dark skin from which she had earned her namesake. "Nefer", he murmured to her softly, "Beauty."

Amun had done the unthinkable by taking one of his own priestesses to bed. He should have practiced self control; yet he found the flame within her e

DepressionMost people know the feeling well.

The feeling of sadness.

It lives amongst us, like some sort of sick parasite.

Slowly oozing from one person to another,

Spread by soft spoken words,

Hiding behind a perfect mask.

It sinks into our skin like posion,

Darkening our faces and withholding our true potential.

Some describe it as a dark cloud, as seeing in black and white;

Others, as though they were looking through a dusty lense, their vision clouded.

This illness, this blackness, marks our generation as though someone spilled ink

Into our mothers' wombs.

Choaking, struggling;

We're slowly dying a death of the heart.

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Lines

by ~blackashsunset, Dec 1, 2009, 7:23:04 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Reflections in the water
Faceing my time
The wrinkles in my skin
Telling the story of my life

There are lines for the tears
In the flesh below my eyes
Lines for the laughs
Playing delicately around my mouth

Lines for the anger
In my forhead
Lines for the pain
On my brow

Lines for the care
On my hands
Lines of the sun
On my shoulders

They may be ugly
These lines of mine
But still I love them
They tell my life

Linesby ~blackashsunset

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

just looking at myself in the mirror today, noticing the various faint lines already showing themselfs, although nobody else sees them. I was thinking about how they will look in 30 or 40 years, how they will become definined, and Ill probly hate how they will look. but in the end, i should love them because they will tell my story in a way. outter beauty fades relitively fast, but inner beauty and experiences stay with us, although youth doesnt.

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Lines

Linesby ~blackashsunset

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