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The Pain WithinLet go of your hate,
Your revenge can wait.
Whoever did you wrong,
Can never know the hurt,
That made you strong.
You know it's a part,
Of you're aching heart.
Whoever broke your smile,
Can never understand the pain,
That turned you vile.
Don't give up on love,
Though you'll feel rough.
Whoever killed your hope,
Can never believe the longing,
That more you cope.
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,
And regret on the reclamation of a pitiless place.
Bones cover the gray with scars of greed,
And I can hear the fazed sighs of sorrow,
Burst forth from the core of an eccentric Earth.
Calls condemn to curse the cries around me,
Where twilight dies to damn the dead I free.
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.
Escape From RealitySometimes when I close my eyes,
I dream of a calmer time when I didn't cry.
To slumber alone in those sunshine days,
Where I was at peace: away from the craze,
Yet I fear I'm wondering lost in their urban plague.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
I escape to a darker place where I can die.
To linger awhile in that luminous night,
Where I can be content: caught in the daze,
Yet I know I'm struggling now in this hopeless phase.
Sometimes when I close my eyes,
I think of a serene dawn while I sigh.
To vacate away in that voidless space,
Where I shall be alive: independent of that maze,
Yet I wake I'm choking air in that distant place.
But I'm just silently screaming!
From all this dismal dreaming,
When all my tears are sorrowfully streaming!
From my horrid heart that's bleeding,
Can't you see how hard I'm pleading!
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.
Where once was a glorious gaze of silver blind pearl,
Now comes a tormentful tune longing for his girl.
Elements Of NaturePeople can no longer cover their eyes,
As the whips of lightning flash,
In the hemisphere of stormy skies.
But what is the reason for the rain,
To wash away the woe and the pain?
People can no longer turn their backs,
As the cries of thunder smash,
On the surface of torrential tracks.
But what is the reason for the wind,
That listens to lies and turns you blind?
People can no longer hide their graces,
As the howls of raindrops lash,
By the mirror of flooded faces.
But what is the reason for the hail,
It can only maim the voices that fail?
Eleusinian Mysteries: The Trickery Of HadesIn harmony the Fates did decry a destiny,
That whomsoever ate or drank with heinous Hades,
Would spend their echoing days with him in eternity.
Anguished Demeter crumbled onto the marble floor,
As she cried out to Persephone through the void of a door.
Hermes in haste raced along to Hades,
With a missive to mediate Persephone's ransom,
Yet Hermes could not invite her out of an illusion of ladies.
Frustrated Hermes broke apart the perceptive tapestry,
To see poor Persephone dazed forlorn in direful travesty.
Hades knew of the Fates words of wisdom,
And so he handed Persephone a pick of pomegranates,
Erudite in his keen knowledge of his kingdom.
Poisoned Persephone would never be free of Hades grasp,
His curse of time would sting her like the wasp.
Persephone was then released in reluctance,
By Hades into the hands of hesitant Hermes,
Who suspected Hades of tricking Persephone into a trance.
Relinquished Persephone never knew she was to return,
Her burden in her heart to see Hades again
UntitledI smile when it rains,
It drives away the black passion and the scarlet pain,
Tearing up my white flesh again and again.
It's the only thing that keeps me sane,
When everything else is driving me insane.
I smile when it snows,
It covers up these ruby scars that will forever show,
Hiding silver marks on golden skin I know.
It's an antidote to this shade misery that flows,
When everyone tries to deduce my glow.
White LightStars shatter into dust and echoes of light,
And for a second: everything in that ether is quiet.
I wish I was there to witness such a splendid sight,
Where once only the blackest of dark voids resided,
Wakes a cacophony of clarity from it's internal riot.
space shivers from ice and flares of light,
And for a second: everywhere in that emptiness is still.
I hope one day that I could touch it with daring delight,
While only to have my eyes of raw ignorance blinded,
Partakes a symphony of sobriety from it's external will.
What would a story be?
If there was no one there to read it.
What would dreams be?
If there was no one there to conceive it.
What would a picture be?
If there was no one there to see it.
What would a secret be?
If there was no one there to keep it.
What would love be?
If there was no one there to feel it.
What would a song be?
If there was no one there to sing it.
What would the truth be?
If there was no one there to admit it.
What would advice be?
If there was no one there to give it.
What would life be?
If there was no one there to live it.
Hollow Memory of a Distant ShoreYou are like a long passed season.
As delicate as the footprints of sparrows in freshly fallen snow.
Intricate, yet so easily disturbed when care is not taken.
Somehow, you have managed to persist after all these years.
Residing in the same quiet place you carved into the woods so long ago..
Only a short ride from the sea.
When you cross my mind, you carry with you the scent of that shoreline.
Harsh and thick, yet somehow placating.
Though the weather was perpetually gray, misty, and cold.
Much like your heart had become..
Just before we painfully, and slowly, parted ways.
I recall with deep longing your fascination with foxes.
With the way they would trot up and down the beach in the early morning,
Their coats most often wet and muddy from crossing into the tide.
I could see the subtle enthrallment in your eyes as they dug for clams.
They would thrust their forepaws deep into the muck, throw it backward..
And at times, to my assuagement, you would smile.
Now, it feels more dist
The Art Of Falling ApartIf falling apart
Was a type of art
You'd be the Picasso of all pain
Beats the finest tapestry
Woven from a raging flame
The tears that you cry
Outshine each star in the sky
And the blood that runs through your veins
More red than the most brilliant rose
It runs from your head to your toes
You have scars where your skin met the edge of a blade
But like words in a book
They need not be overlooked
They tell a story in a way of their own
All the blood that you shed
All the times you wished you were dead
They speak of despair and they speak of sorrow
So now you've mastered the art
Of falling apart
Now you're a canvas of black and blue
Using a blade for a brush
And for one final touch
I'll put a stroke of love in you
I Feel the Darkness Embrace Me"We'll always be close"
That's what we said
Even if Hell froze
And we were both dead
Through all this mess
And the thick and thin
I could never love you less
My perfect twin
I don't know if you can feel it
Or is it all in my mind
Between us, there's a little split
Or are you blind
It's awkward to hold you
Like I did before
I know we're through
But still, I swore
"Lovey-dovey as a couple"
"Lovey-dovey as friends"
But now there's this bubble
And no way for amends
I admit there's a wall
And it distorts my sight
I don't want to drop the ball
But I suddenly see no light
Maybe you were always more
And never "just a friend"
But that has gone out the door
There's nothing more to mend
Are you the one I knew back then
Or are you someone I don't
Do I have to start again
Take back the seeds sown
We talk easy, but it feels so wrong
It's like I wear a mask
Do I look so cool, so strong
So you'll never have to ask
I don't tell you the tears I shed
Nor sigh or moan
Or about this chaos in my head
ErrorsCold breath on my purple lips,
The sensation touches my ears’ tips
Echoes of dead roses in a fierce-some gloom
My sorrow follows me as though it’s in full bloom
The open air levitates my still form
The coldness shocking me like a magnetic storm
I lay lifeless, colder, stiller, than my skin an icy blue
Spread out as to catch this morning’s dew
The mist is like a comforting blanket
My head, stripped of innocence, a blank planchet
Waiting to be stamped by my failures
Rather than face my sneering errors
Can’t I stay here, to be kissed by memories?
Ladled out from the stagnant pool of the centuries
Soothing fingers stroke my paled cheeks
Briefly fading out the hovering foggy weeks
Desensitizing me from my looming shadows
Their softness producing sensations like hanging at the gallows
Dried leaves fall silently covering the dead in their pressure
The drying blood glues them down and shuts you out forever
FragileI know that you're broken,
And that your pieces are scattered,
I know that you're bruised,
And that your pale skin is battered.
I can see the scars,
That you're trying to hide,
And I can see the hurt,
Burried beneath your pride.
You're barely holding together,
Your tattered, fraying threads,
The harder you try to keep it in,
The more the hole spreads.
Stop trying to battle alone,
When I'm here with sword in hand,
I can help you pick up the pieces,
There'll be nothing we can't withstand.
Don't give up the fight,
My friend who is so fragile,
Take my hand and let me hold you,
Let me love you for a while.
You think that it's not worth it,
And just want to give in,
So you run the blade down your arm,
Breaking your heavenly skin.
I wish that I could show you,
How much you mean to me,
But you just push me away,
And wallow in your debris.
Why can't you see what I see?
I think that you're amazing,
I love your scars, and your wounds,
And your eyes that are always blazing.
I am giving you my all,
My Master's VoiceI screamed at him "I'm leaving!"
He smiled and said "okay"
I said "no, for once I mean it
This time you wont make me stay"
But bags were never really packed
And that night in our bed I lay
The taste of blood on my lips
Still remained there the next day
I screamed at him "please stop this!
I am the Mother to your child
Baby, I know you have a temper
I know my ways make you so wild"
"But I promise I'll try harder
Not to push your buttons so much"
With that the beast resumed control
As I quiver at each stolen touch
They scream at me to leave him
To them it's such a simple choice
But it's been so long since I've heard
Anything but my master's voice
To the point that I no longer know
My own mind or my own heart
But today he said he's sorry again
And tomorrow will be a fresh start
HappinessShe leaves me frequently, without warning-
this capricious lover of mine.
Without provocation, she deserts me;
without rhyme or reason she leaves me to
complete her madness in the dark.
I forget often that she is Master
and I mustn't question her actions
even though they leave me at a loss.
As I standby, and learn to dissect myself
like an insect speared on a peg,
or a corpse rotting in some grimy catacomb,
I must recite the mantra:
she is god. She is god.
Fragments of days pass by me
and I, in a haze of half-forgotten memory, cannot piece together
any singular moment in time
that could connect to anything else.
There is only her,
and her spindly hands upon my throat
before she finishes her rounds
and smugly skips away.
I try fruitlessly to pick up the
shattered remains of what was once a human life.
Her face is tattooed on my soul.
Her voice echoes in the lonely halls of my memory.
Her touch is a scar upon my existence.
I cannot salvage a thing.
And then, just like the tide,
Who what when where why or how.You're just another faceless one, hidden in the crowd,
No one cares about you, or why you act so proud.
No one knows who you are, you're just another face,
You could just disappear without a trace.
The blood red sky in your mind's eye,
It's always there but you don't know why.
You're just a part of a bigger whole,
And your heart is as black as coal.
You play dress-up with your top hat and cane,
But you can take it off and disappear again.
You're never noticed no matter what you wear,
It's a source of their contempt and your despair.
You could just disappear right now,
No matter who what when where why or how.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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