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GoodbyeYou're so faraway.
You never breathe or say a thing.

You're a monster.
Torn to shreds without a word.

I'm a ghost.
Lost when you needed me the most.

I don't care.
You've let me down.

You're the cruel one.
Goodbye to you and all you've done.

You are not an islandI have been alone. This man is an island.
The cliffs of my shoulder blades
hang heavy with grief, ore, suffering.
I am draped with the permanence of gravity,
So do not believe that you cannot move.
Come to me, water babes fully grown,

Allow yourself to be swept in salt and ash.
Tumble with your brothers into my arms
and be at peace, at last, on the shore.
I too was once drowned, but I arose
and as the caps melt, all things will erode
For no man is an island alone.

CyanideSometimes in midnights, lifeless,
when all is still and meek.
I would sit amongst the corners,
of that residential spot,
you so have claimed against my heart.

That bitter sweat of sarcasm,
sharpened to my senses.
Poisonous substances,
a shroud arrest upon thy shoulders.

Potassium Cyanide,
leaking from your eyes.
Begging me oh so sweetly,
to stay here by your side.

To roll in Smokey haze,
beyond the dawn of sunlight.
To slumber ever on,
in reality amiss,
to linger on your sugared lips,
licks of hidden poison.

Yet i shan't leave this life in jest,
to stay with one who spites me so.
I’ll run to she who loves me best,
fo

The Solemn VersesI spend my days awake in the darkness,
Where going forward in life is but a guess.
Alone I muse on the memories I regret,
Images that floods me in cruel embarrassment,
But I fear not the experiences I won't forget.

So you think you know everything about me?
You understand what makes me truly tick,
And how you can cause my conscience to click.
You really believe everything you hear and see,
To a point where my death is all you'll hold dear.

I spend my nights dead to the nightmare,
Too cold to the rhythmic heartbeats that care.
Alone I ponder on the possessions I bide,
Items that curses me in flawed attainment,
But I hate not the

The Tears Of The EarthWhat would you do if the world stopped,
Spinning and swirling to a systematic halt?
Would you climb to a mountain majestically high,
Raise your eyes up to the finite electric universe,
And reflect on the redemption of a death so diverse.

Veins line the black with faults of blood,
And I can hear the crazed howls of horror,
Erupt up from the centre of an empty Earth.
Screams swell to scorch the skies above me,
Where sunlight fades to freeze the faces I see.

What would you do if the world finished,
Falling and frolicking to a fatalistic end?
Would you swim to a sea seductively low,
Embrace your demise in that endless dark space,
An

Homecoming.The sound of wheels touching the runway,
the shrill screeches, the subtle sway.
I clutch my fingers a little tight,
I walk out the plane, feel the sun a bit more bright.

Take a step into the glass doors,
the sound of feet tapping against the floor.
Millions of people shuffling all around,
I grab my luggage and stumble right out.

I stand a little on my toes,
My eyes blown wide, My specs sliding down my nose.
I finally see the sight I need,
My smile so wide, I can't breathe.

A short man of age fifty three,
Hurries towards me like cavalry.
His face split into a warm grin,
His body frame gone slightly thin.

He stands millimeters i

the realmsometimes I'm caught in this REALM
it's a realm of privacy, but restlessness
I fade away from the world of action
and into this slow, transparent feeling
the bridge between my thoughts and my actions
widens exponentially
the longer I stay.
It makes me itchy.
I itch for something to focus on
but my brain feels like a piece of tape
that's already been stuck to too many things
and falls off of everything I encounter.
I itch for somewhere to go
something new to do,
but everything that doesn't require crossing that ever-expanding bridge
has already been done,
already been explored.
I keep fading,
remembering that I used to have goals I could work

Winter MorningOn this winter, with the snow white as lies
Crunching under my feet, and the air feels
As cold as the giant corpse that had died
On the sword, like his friend died by his heel.

Through the frost-crown'd woods I stroll, knowing trees
Like these had been cut to build th'Wooden Horse,
Housing the fall of both sides, and I see
The sun's hidd'n by cloud, still feeling remorse.

They lost their men beneath the now frost'd earth;
The disgrac'd giant, with sword in his gut,
Died disgrac'd, as far as the Greeks could see.
But from white death are born new colours,
Like red of th'Christmas suit and spill'd blood.
But does this man've burial

La confusion de ConfuciusConfucius, confus, confia à son confrère
Que ses idées diffuses défiaient l'entendement.
Son confrère, contrit, et contraint d'écouter
Se mit à s'ennuyer, toute la nuit somnolant.
Confucius, défait, ne se sentit plus sage
Et bouda son confrère râlant et ânonnant.
Son confrère partit, le laissant là rageant,
Et Confucius mentit comme le peut un enfant.
"J'ai congédié cet homme veule et ignorant
Aux confins d'une contrée sauvage
Afin qu'il apprenne à regretter la société
Des hommes infiniment sages et grands"
Et Confucius comprit qu'en tel mensonge proférant,
Il éduquait les hommes par le biais du Néant.
Et sans remords, conflit, ni regret,
Il endoctrina tout un peuple savamment.

Every-Day Reality Triptych. Part I. CoffeemakersJanusz Grzywacz
Has created a cult song about a coffee grinder
Poets are silent, when it comes to coffeemakers
They lack of an olde-worlde charm
Of sentiment
They're just useful and overly functional
Nobody imbeds into their spiritual life
In the end they're not cucumber soup
They become attached so quickly to our habits
That we ignore them
And we remind about them only when we have to make coffee

But it will come the time
When the coffeemakers will make the quickest decision in their history
About noticing them
Just like small beings discovered by a good-hearted elephant
They will quietly clamor
We are here
We are
But they

Old Habits Die HardOne
Two
Three
It always comes in sets of three
I am not satisfied if there is not three or more
Not enough to satisfy my thirst.

It doesn't matter anymore
It's never enough anymore
This addiction is consuming me
Leaving me empty once it has run its course

They can see it
But they don't ask
Because they don't want to know
They don't want to believe it's real

They don't ask because they don't want to know.

Rubaiyat: Space in My EyesMy, how lovely is this quiet sea,
Breaking on the shores and on the lea
Curling, tasting of the air and wind,
Taking with its waves a part of me.

Give it back: the pieces I rescind.
Night calls for the cobwebs worn and thinned,
Stretching in the grass--a well-loved place
Fulsome, empty, cold, replete with sins.

Beautiful your midnight frosted grace;
Fearful is the night moon on your face.
Say I, come and walk awhile alone;
Beaches, silence, glitters bright deep space.

Stars breathe miles away in heat unknown
Scent of space and call of night intoned
Split the air with grace, peel back the crust
Letting rocks and trees their prai

Best Served ColdOn the menu tonight,
You'll find my heart.
Would you like it served
With a poison dart?

Perhaps you'll enjoy it
On a silver platter
Eat it bit by bit.
Delicious? Don't flatter.

Would you like it
Hot or spicy,
Or bitter or sweet?
Grilled or roasted,
Fit to eat?

Go ahead, just ask, be bold...
But if you ask me,
It's best served cold.

aimlessI know there is a sea of words in my mind
and if I can be the moon and pull their tide in the most exquisite way,
I can make hearts ache with the beauty.
But I'm so aimless, for a moon,
and my sea of words won't ebb and flow
without purpose.
Having no limits means nothing without direction
and I've lost mine.

I'm afraid of losing you.I don’t know if you feel it too, the feeling of wanting to break loose
And just screaming “I love you” but I’m scared that we might lose
Because just of our age, or the time, or any person that doesn’t want you to be mine
But I know that if this goes wrong I’d be the one who'd cause the crime

I’m a bit afraid; one false move would make everything go away
And I’m always left wondering if what I’m doing is okay
I just want everything to be alright between you and me
Or is there something that I cannot see?

My head is rambling with questions that fear is inventing
Maybe is not fear, maybe

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The Last GoodnightUnder this imperial moonlight,
With its enduring ghostly gaze:
I bid you goodnight.
Back into the shadows of the sane,
I wander and disappear without a trace.

Above this utopian plight,
Consumed by a serpentine snare;
I bid you goodnight.
Lost atop roofs stinging with rain,
I stop and haunt those who stare.

Beside this draconian might,
With it's corrupting black breath;
I bid you goodnight.
Ensnared in jaws of scorching breath,
I strike and wait for my death.

Without DoubtWithout a shadow of doubt,
I know what you are all about.
Such a majestic master of the internet;
Aren't we? Complaining in your posts,
But all you do is patronise those you've never met.

Without a shadow of doubt,
I think I've sussed you out.
Such a symbolic saviour of the oppressed;
I think not. Dwelling is your territory,
But your in my realm and you've just trespassed.

Without a shadow of doubt,
I hope this will make you shout.
Such a faithful friend of the righteous;
You say? Humbling those who care,
But never did I believe your act to be gracious.

SoundI'm surrounded by that soulful sound,
Can't you even hear it?
Reverberating all around,
Like the vibrations of a booming drum,
Or the strings of this golden guitar I strum.

I'm serenaded by that siren's song,
Can't you even hear it?
Enchanting me all night long,
Like the echoes of the morning bird,
Or the cries of faceless fawns yet to be heard.

I'm soothed by that sweet soprano,
Can't you even hear it?
Tantalising me to the bone,
Like the voice of an angelic lass,
Or the silence of her celestial class.

The Two-Faced HypocriteThis is who you really are,
A stranger living in a no man's land.
You don't care what I think,
And you certainly don't give a damn;
You'll just type with your hypocritical hand.

This is who you really are,
A loser walking amongst the dead.
You only believe in yourself,
And you are definitely not mature;
It's all fabrications in your hopeless head.

This is who you really are,
A moron hiding behind a screen.
You know nothing of true respect,
And you supposedly think you are the victim?
I ought to laugh you know what I mean?

To Trust In SelfI can't trust myself anymore,
But I will make the greatest sacrifice,
To bring peace to my inner core.
Tearing out each one of my sinful eyes,
With feral fingernails all cracked and torn.

I can't trust myself anymore,
But I struggle to escape that sanguine knife,
Oh how I've clutched it's rage before.
Slashing into multitudes of my liar's flesh,
With bloody blade all rusted and worn.

I can't trust myself anymore,
But I fear to relive that morbid life,
It's death for me; I regret will be poor.
Creeping down the abyss of my felonious throat,
With acrid air all corrupted and forlorn.

On Pain of DeathIt's like a blade from below,
Hidden deep in crystal snow.
Stabbing through your eternal soul,
Forever in your fearless nightmares;
Never to die or let you go.

It's like an arrow in the air,
Aiming straight to your deathly stare.
Piercing into your mortal skin,
Always in your aching reality;
Where pain bites you often.

It's like a dagger from the dust,
Eating further into your human crust.
Breaking apart your diseased bone,
Suffer in your silent dreams;
While agony treats you alone.

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Final Endby ~NemoX7

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

According to Mayan Calender, it's meant to be end of the world around about now... Don't believe it myself. Still makes inspiring source material for a poem.

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Mood: Love

~LaptopNinja510 Mar 6, 2013

I loved it

The imagery was just too good!

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~gnomeper Dec 21, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Fear make us stupid!

Love make us smart

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*IronwingKaiser777 Dec 20, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

Don't believe what those natives tell you. They lied about this one.

Reply

~NemoX7 Dec 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Had my suspicions from the very start. Darn natives must have drugged me when they caught me. Now free of their primitive mind controlling devices.

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*IronwingKaiser777 Dec 20, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

Yeah, even the Hollywood directors of 2012 and "Knowing" had me brainwashed. Now free of their crazy schemes. However, I still think 2016 is the year when Russians take over us. I dunno why. XD

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~NemoX7 Dec 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Russians? Hmmm, they won't be so bad. Could be a lot worse XD

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*IronwingKaiser777 Dec 20, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

XD

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