[x]

Death Of LegendIgnite hell's biting bullets that scorch and sting,
Against heaven's armies that stand and sing.
When the might of garish gods befalls us all,
Where nations crumble and meek mortals fall,
Then celestial suicide will be our fate's call.

Skies will turn to smoke and seas will burn to steam,
Demons will howl. Angels will die. Men will dream.
To believe in an eternal peace beyond war's breath,
No more to suffer through eyes that despair death,
Never to crumble hearts into pits of blackened dust.

Blind hell's hope that bring waves of ruin and rust,
Against heaven's anguish that bring terror and trust.
When the sight of humble humanity

The Poet's QuillRiver's ink flows deeply from his writer's quill,
He wields it's worth with signs of sublime skill,
And those magic words materialise under his will.
Where once was a vacant void of white clear light,
Now comes a sorrowful song aching for his sight.

Man's blood drips softly from his writer's pen,
He holds it's honour with odes of ovation often,
And those complex symbols collude in his den.
Where once was a musing mind of black air dark,
Now comes a powerful poem burning for his mark.

Tear's oil runs boldly from his writer's grace,
He bears it's beauty with paeans of perfect pace,
And those platinum verses protrude below his face.

Lovers Of The NightStrangers out of sight,
Are like a pair of lovers dancing,
When dying daylight turns to newborn night.
Hearts pound as they start their ritual of romancing,
By tears on train-tracks where no hate could be tonight.

Was their pairing of love so naïve?
That their passion became a pain to prolong,
Forever feelings distorted as to who to believe.
They never knew it was meant to be wrong,
But birds break the morning mist with sweet song.

Lovers out of light,
Are like a couple of strangers kissing,
When sombre sunlight turns to melancholic moonlight.
Minds beat as they decease their cult of consorting,
By roars of railways where n

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

Here Today Gone TomorrowDo whatever you feel girl,
It's no pain to have no more tears to bleed.
Just don't let my emotions penetrate you,
It's a soul filled with sorrow that lives to feed,
But tomorrow comes to take me away if only I could stay.

Do whatever you need girl,
It's no hate to have no more scars to tear.
Just don't let my feelings violate you,
It's a mind lost in mourning that wants to care,
But tomorrow dawns and I'll be gone to walk the night alone.

Do whatever you desire girl,
It's no fear to have no more limbs to maim.
Just don't let my thoughts desecrate you,
It's a heart broke from lovesick that longs to claim,
But tomorrow rises to gr

Riotous ApocalypseWait can't you hear that minute sound,
Gushing up from the depths of a dank underground,
Would you silence the screams of the damned?
Merciless marauders crawling over cement ceilings,
Blackened blades wielded by faces lacking feelings.

Wait can't you see their vacant frown,
Rising up from the lows of a lonely town,
Would you break the bellows of the cursed?
Senseless soldiers marching over marble mountains,
Hardened hatchets shielded by roars quaking rains.

Wait can't you smell their lost pity,
Building up from the hell of a hatred city,
Would you torment the tears of the harmed?
Guiltless gladiators storming over stone streams,

Voices Of The ClockI look up and the clock chimes twelve,
And I witness silent whistles working the night,
Under the flaming furies of crimson candlelight.
Into a grave of loneliness with despair I do delve,
To find happiness beyond my own shrouded sight.

I look up and the clock chimes eleven,
And I hear quiet sprockets slaving the morning,
Under the twitching tears of yellow yawning.
Down in a hell of woe I so long to give in,
But I seek joy before I start my misery mourning.

I look up and the clock chimes ten,
And I see vague gears governing the day,
Under the burning blades of cyan clay.
Yet here in this pit of hunger I'm about to begin,
On a b

Charade (or Dysfunctional Love)Something old, something new,
Just give me one perfect devious answer,
Or do I have to weed out of you a clue?
You say you adore me, but it feels like cancer,
To perform this childish charade every disaster.

Close shut the door and wave goodbye,
Look through echoes of grimy glass in regret,
To see a forlorn face but you don't know why?
Where times spent in trust you can never forget,
From chords of a pitiful piano that sing then cry.

Something borrowed, something blue,
Just give me one good honest reason,
Why I should give a damn about you?
You say you love me, but it feels like treason,
To play this churlish charade every seaso

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

The FallingThe Falling

Upon malodorous rapture of orphaned darkness,
eternal melancholy becomes twisted and hollow
In the severed reflections of sanguine shadows,
we will drown in ruby tears of pain and sorrow

Whispers of odium seep gently into my dreams...
The Raven lingers in solemn clouds dark as coal
My blood surges like a chorus of bitter requiem
And my lips — the anathema of your dying soul

Dark lust hums like a cold tide of weeping voices
Perfumed in ash & bone, hallucinations imbue —
Blood soaked robes hang from my slender bride,
shimmering like scarlet threads under ebon skies
After sable petals fall upon my beloved's gra

Ode Of The ForsakenSlip away into that enthralling charm of hell,
So you can witness fantastical puffs of your putrid smoke,
Bellowing out vague words that inflate to let off a wild yell.
No dark dream nor nuanced nightmare,
But a breathing reality into which the forsaken have awoke.

Screams of tragic horror that seeps out to be alive,
So you can glimpse the damned future of your fetid teeth,
Whispering out steel voices that quieten eyes looking to forgive.
No honest heart nor mournful mind,
But a crying brutality into which the forsaken know no heath.

Shadows writhe in the chaotic depths of their graves,
So you can sense the whimsical mind of your m

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

The Writer's One Second SparkSense no darkness when I am wide awake and on fire,
I could do this for another second, another minute, another hour.
Oh what creativity in this cortex that blossoms like the simple flower,
How these intricate rhymes of innocent words give my heart,
Such a pounding energy of pride to recycle my writer's power.

Sense no blindness when I am wide awake and full of desire,
I could do this for another day, another week, another year.
Oh what brilliance in this brain that emotes like the complex tear,
How those delicate rhythms of distant beats give my soul,
Such a resounding spark of arrogance to rekindle my writer's fear.

AliceWhen black has stained the infinite blue,
And sleep compels me to retreat
I grin upon the thought of my blanket's sweet embrace
As I slay the dim candle I earlier lit

Shortly, I am severed from all
To see light once more
And then I spot her, grinning widely,
Composing giggles of four

She invites me in her welcoming home,
Her hands, opened wide toward me
She tells me how fun it is inside,
She tells me it's something I'd love to see

I grin in anticipation,
And lift my hands to reach her
I think of all the wonders I'd see
Stretching my arms further

Then suddenly we are afar in countless kilometers
When we were only a foot away

Neon RainbowAfternoon, I sleep awoken,
with a mess inside my mind.
In a place i'll know forever,
I will never leave behind.

But then cobalts call me, sky.
Life in blossom, firefly.

A smile once appears in me,
In rainbow palette,
With a wondered look,
a small sihouette.

Happiness, a burst of sweetness, joy.
Dash of love, and i am just a boy.

A spectrum, imploding heart,
there's no side to back.
Just need breathe, and be alone,
retrieve the attack.

Beauty at day, shining arc.
Fades out away, It's a dream.
When it's not, during night.
Raises upon neon beam.

Now i am able to see.
Not what is, but what will be.

Dream. and never sleep,
I

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Not EnoughIf it's not enough;
To ignore your idiocy,
And escape your embrace.
In this ruin of a clustered city,
From your fearless face.

If it's not enough;
To hide my hate,
And suffer my soul.
By this grave I will wait,
With my thoughts so foul.

If it's not enough;
To be with you again,
Even after all this pain,
Oh, I am going insane,
As I bury you in the rain.

Brain-DeadIs my brain in a daze?
I cannot write another lucid line,
That could possibly even rhyme.
It must be a miracle I must confess,
That words have failed me no less.

Is my brain really dead?
I mean there's only a silent sound,
Coming from all around.
It must be a curse I must respect,
That much I have to accept.

Is my brain in despair?
I regret this composition isn't clear,
But I'm losing my way I fear.
All I need is the spark of fire,
To ignite my heart's one true desire.

AmbienceAt the bay of a sorrowful sea,
I watch that incoming tearful tide,
And I wonder how sad it seems to me.
But back into wild waters it does hide,
To cry out woe it won't confide.

At the grove of a forlorn forest,
I hear that outgoing bitterly breeze,
And I hope to hear birdsong before I rest.
But this winter wind can only freeze,
Those broken hearts who sleep at best.

Wound, Maim and KillBang! Hear the smoking gun,
Ring out with a shot of ice.
I thought it was not much fun,
But the idiot thought it be oh so nice,
To put a bronze bullet in my head.

Swish! Hear the silent knife,
Fly through this air of clarity.
I think he's destroyed my life,
And I'm ashamed to walk in this city,
With this scarlet scar I lie in bed.

Crack! Hear the exploding baton,
Come colliding with your skull.
I know it's a fight he has won,
Yet his victory will be very dull,
When I'm dead and he has a face so red.

UndergroundI feel cold creeping hands,
Dragging me down,
Into the fires of the underground.
All I hear is the screeching sound,
Of heroes wearing funeral frowns.

I feel warm probing fingers,
Across my skin,
And my, how they seem to linger.
I'm petrified of this demonic danger,
Of seraphim pretending to sin

I feel hot sweating palms,
Touching my face,
Brushing across lips as I stay calm.
Now I fear they'll sense my alarm,
Of angels insulting grace.

It May EndThere may come a time,
When the well runs dry,
And I cannot compose another rhyme.
But until then I will still try,
To make you laugh and perhaps even cry.

There may come a day,
When the train hits the buffer,
And I cannot write what I hope to say.
But until then I will suffer,
To write words like a roving lover.

There may come a hour,
When the sun stays in the clouds,
And songs are like a shower.
But until then I will think aloud,
And compose complexities to the crowd.

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Harbinger

by ~NemoX7, Sep 28, 2012, 12:47:53 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

From beyond a space where time is still,
Rises a monster who wields a murderous will.
Crimson cuts of corruption line it's carapace,
Yielding imperial eyes on a merciless face,
Engines erupt to herald the harbinger's haste.

From beyond a silence where life is dead,
Moves a deity who haunts a ponderous head.
Purple parts of penetration mark it's form,
Daunting funereal cries by a tactless storm,
Circuits corrode to hail the harbinger's harm.

From beyond a sorrow where joy is lost,
Roams a terror who obeys a wonderous ghost.
Black bolts of beatification hold it's sword,
Slaying mercurial lies to a reckless word,
Diodes deduce to hark the harbinger's horde.

Harbingerby ~NemoX7

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Inspired by 'Mass Effect 2 and 3's' reaper known as Harbinger. I would to admit, I felt Harbinger was under-used in the third Mass Effect game. If he was supposed to be the leader of all the reapers invading the universe he should have least got more of a mention. Yes, he was there near enough at the end, but it seemed like more of a cameo, as though Bioware had suddenly realised that he was still there and had to deposit him somewhere. In other words he became a forgotten figure in the plot. I still consider Mass Effect 2 to be a superior game to Mass Effect 3. But that's personal opinion.

Critique by ~LuvThemHungerGames Oct 2, 2012, 3:33:22 PM

Thanks for inviting me to critique your poem! First I must say I havn't ever played Mass Effect 2 or 3 but your poem brought to life this leader of all reapers. Wonderfully strong imagery I would say

Your diction was absolutely invigorating. After coming upon each word, I would race ahead to see which word you had next inserted. This may be a problem for some readers whom like plain poetry due to the fact that larger words tend to be slightly distracting from the idea itself.
And may I say that you had excellent assonance and consonance! I'm thrilled to see these poetic devices used in your poem. I appluad you, it is hard to use assonance and consonance in a way that doesn't muddy up your stanzas.
Your style stands out from the other poems I have read with your artistic imagery, haunting tone, and poetic syntax.
Upon reading your poem, I looked up some pictures of Harninger. I discoverd that your poem paralleled the images I saw very tastefully.
Thanks again for the invitation, and I also thank you for the oppertunity to educate myself on the world of video games