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BeautyBeauty rose out of that silent sea,
Her eyes were tepid with wild thunder,
And then she turned and looked at me.
Me; a meagre man who knew no lady fair,
Nor one of care as she snaps my heart asunder.
Beauty flew up to that sinister sky,
Her lips were dark with mad desire,
And then she turned and started to cry.
Cry; a crude curse who knew no mortal smile,
Nor one so vile as she scars my aura in fire.
Beauty stood up on that scarlet skin,
Her locks were rouge with quiet rain,
And then she turned and walked on sin.
Sin; a sordid spirit who knew no lover true,
Nor one in clue as she saves me from my pain.
Paradigm Of The Lost DivineTake my pitiful mind to a better place,
So I can see the brightest stars shine,
In that abysmal hope called space.
To reach out and touch a forbidden face,
Is the greatest gift anyone could find.
For I have witnessed in vast wonder,
The eternity before this epic I ponder,
Where no creature would consider his death.
But who am I to declare what is up or down?
Nothing is the name of hell in which I drown.
Take my woeful heart to a lesser worth,
So I can hear the darkest sighs scream,
In that dismal void called birth.
That genesis of so mysterious a mirth,
Is the coldest curse anyone could dream.
For I have listened to past laught
Negative ViolationYou take away my pleasure,
You take away my pain,
You stick a stainless blade in deep.
To take the greatest of honesty's treasure,
And never will we hear my beating heart again.
But you lack the guts to understand,
Misery or malice from my point of view.
You take away the most important thing,
That by rights is not even yours,
So here. Right now. You grasp death in a dire hand.
You take away my life,
You take away my love,
You smile a soulless tear to weep.
To strike with the brightest of treachery's knife,
And never will they see my haunting angel dove.
But you fake the cuts to manipulate,
Sin or sorrow from my mind without a
Wake up now, my dear old friendWake up now, my dear old friend,
Your daily sleep has reached its end.
Embrace your worldly cares once more
And take one step outside your door;
You’ll find there, waiting for you still,
The tasks and deeds you’ve to fulfill
So do not waste another ray,
Get up, get up and start your day.
You’ll have your sleep again tonight
And when you do, you will sleep tight
But until such times are near,
Get up, wake up, today is here.
Give a man a fish he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish he will eat for a life time.
Give a man a gun he will rob a bank.
Give a man a bank he will rob the world.
We adapt and adjust.
Constantly dithering on the cusp
Of what is considered wrong and right,
Ensuring that our ambitions remain in sight.
We would be willing to do anything
In order to get what we truly desire.
We would be willing to risk everything
Even putting our friends in the line of fire.
We may share the bounty with others,
Allowing them to experience the fruitful taste.
Given the option we will even care for our brothers.
Just as long as w
My Sole ConditionTo what conditions must I comply
when prompted to write
of what dwells inside?
'Tis always my voice I aim to speak
with pen in hand, bleeding ink,
as does my heart, spilling words
upon a page, perhaps unheard
save by me, myself, and I -
Eclectic fragments in the mind -
to each his own for these are mine;
thereby forming how they will
in fluid flight with feathered quill,
as freedom flows with expression
of fantasy or pure confession.
Symbolic makings of the soul
take shape as musical rhymes unfold.
Whilst not perfected or contrived,
'tis how this poem became alive;
for thus am I, in each rendition,
still my own poeti
EuphoriaMelodies of majestic music I breathe,
Sucking such splendid verses into my pores,
Waiting till I can drown in it's beauty some more.
Silence is a sombre song I shall never believe,
But when it's all in my mind there is only one desire.
To soar so high on the lines of rhyme,
And feel the beat trigger happiness every time,
I don't know if chords could commit so many a crime.
But my love for lazing to lullabies and lyrics,
Leaves me with a heart filled with burning fire.
It's an aural perfume exploding from that soulful stereo,
Blowing me away with rhythms of rage on the radio,
If ever I'd dream of arias by angels above this sphere.
The SirenShe's a siren of the airwaves,
And I love it when she misbehaves.
Burning air I lust after her elegance,
Breathing in all her melodies lasciviously,
Pursuing her blindly over currents of crimson chance.
But every single time she cries my name,
I don't know if to her it's all just a game.
Weeping tears only for me,
Wailing along the air seductively,
Drowning me softly in glades with gruesome glee.
She's a siren turning me into ash,
Yet her love like tempestuous waves crash.
Sitting down next to me,
Singing down my ear promiscuously,
Killing me gently upon shores of sombre seas.
Insect Voices Of The Inner VoidAll I hear are the voices inside my head,
Telling me I'd be better off dead.
I cannot make them stop their suicidal speech,
And they grow and they fester,
Like hordes of hungry leeches.
All I see are the faces inside the mirror,
Tormenting me so much I start to shiver.
I cannot make them recede their raging rant,
And they multiply and they cluster,
Like armies of antagonizing ants.
All I fear are the eyes inside my mind,
Taunting me until my sight turns blind.
I cannot make them halt their hideous hearts,
And they flourish and they thrive,
Like legions of loathsome locusts.
Sick MachineIf you could cut deep into my bearable blood,
Would you see it as a circuitry of veins,
Madly manifesting itself across blackened bones?
But I won't forget when it rains all the pain,
Salivating from scarlet sides of that knife of wood.
If you could slash hard into my subtle skin,
Would you know it to be a mimicry of silicon,
Insanely invigorating itself over mildewed muscles?
But I won't forget when it snows all the blows,
Impacting from emerald edges of that dagger of sin.
If you could claw slowly into my pitiable plastic,
Would you find it more than a secrecy of nerves,
Wildly wasting itself under obliterated organs?
But I won
The Lost GenerationIs this existence of time worth my life?
To struggle through each day's heartache,
With all this stress and strife?
Nobody can answer this fundamental question,
How can we save the lost generation?
Is there meaning of conscious left for me?
To hurtle through every night's sickness,
Without any faith to be free?
Nobody will deny this radical emotion,
Where can we find the lost generation?
Is that suffocation of will ready to die?
To tussle through early morning's hunger,
Without the courage to cry?
Nobody shall crave this political flirtation,
Why can't we rescue the lost generation?
The Bells Of DeathHear those cherubic cries of the bells of death,
Haunting the neglected night with echoing breath.
Ravens black and dour as the shade flock all around,
Atop spiral sunshine towers shrouded in sound,
As grisly ghouls awake in graves underground.
Hear those seraphic screams of the bells of despair,
Silencing the darkening dawn with punishing care.
Demons pale and vacant as the shadows climb up again,
To plague mortality with poison and pain,
As burly beasts sense the bullets of burning rain.
Hear that angelic audience of the bells of doom,
Corrupting the diminished day with lingering gloom.
Wolves white and cruel as the starlight st
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More