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Ready To IgniteMy chest feels like a furnace,
And my lungs are on fire.
Death is my mind's only desire;
But I will carry on with bitter grace,
Knowing my ashes may leave no trace.

My chest feels like a grenade,
And my heart is about to explode.
Shall I continue down this road?
But now I stop because I am afraid,
That the life I lead may never be saved.

My chest feels like an anvil,
And my ribs feel like lead.
In my palms is black blood that bled,
But I am scared so much my stare is still,
With bleak eyes I accept misery for good or ill.

The Black RoseIn between such delicate fingertips;
She holds the blackest of roses,
And the dark petals brush her lips.
Her sombre shadow across her face,
Describes the bleakest of life's loses.

Such sweet scent floating in the air;
She breathes in the aroma of the black rose,
That scarlet stem entwines in her raven hair.
Her enchanting eyes are but a glaze,
Those wells of happiness have all but froze.

Thorns of iron dig into her soft skin;
She screams from the pain of that bloody rose,
With it's intoxication of simplistic sin.
Her haunting presence brings haste,
To a silence of a death nearing close.

The Weeping AngelShe holds her head in her hands,
Never breathing or blinking.
She is a morbid master of the sands,
Of time that terrorises your torment:
Gaze upon her vile visage and away you go.

She stands alone in such grace,
Never talking or thinking.
She has her elusive eyes on your face,
Of innocence that isolates your idiocy:
Look at her sinister snarl and you'll depart too.

She watches you with utter patience,
Never whistling or winking.
She'll turn lights low in her defence,
Of malevolence that murders your mind:
Stare out to her granite guise and forget all you know.

AscensionHere I shall reside in spiritual ascension,
Relieving my spirit of all my torment and tension.
Here I'll breathe whispering winds of relief,
Purging those days of dark deliverance,
While I blind all my mortal sins to a new belief.

To ascend above obsidian mountain summits,
In the mists of immortal mystery.
To gaze gracefully upon ladies of luminescence lit,
As hope clings to you in harrowing hysteria,
Where all macabre minutiae of life comes to sit.

To tentatively touch lavender sweet skies,
Upon that sea of eternal sorrow.
To listen lightly to sirens singing sanguine cries.
As time passes by into trials of tomorrow,
Where all a

Innocence of the LostLook at the little girl,
Who wishes to be a beautiful ballerina,
In a dream where she'll twist and twirl.
With happiness in her childish laugh,
And no inkling of the meaning of wrath.

Look at the little boy,
Who wishes to be a courageous commander,
In his fantasy all the demons he'll destroy.
With ignorance in his youthful mind,
And no warning of what future he'll find.

Look at the weary woman,
With a frown on her fragile face,
She's doing the best she can.
All hope in her heart is gone,
But for all her woes she'll carry on.

Look at the moody man,
With a grimace upon his grim grin,
He's tired of his life's plan.
Now he sits

The Angel Who Fell From HeavenThere was an angel of the honest skies,
Who's white wings were struck,
By the lashes of lightning cries.
She fell from above into earthly muck,
To the wistful wonder of two youths of yore.

With her face in distress of her plight,
She took two feathers of fire,
And gouged out her eyes of eternal light.
In the dirt this heavenly being did tire,
Until she was awoken by the prodding of paws.

Two days rolled past her corrupted visage,
As meek mortals tended to her pain,
To the dismay of the denizen's rage.
In tears this being of beauty tried in vain,
To call out for help from her blood brethren.

For a month and a day she did heal,

FragileHow could something so fragile,
As the humble heart of a lover's longing,
Be so easily torn in twain?
Was it his desire to deal in danger,
When he first gazed upon your glance?

How could something so fragile,
As the sweet soul of a valentine's virtue,
Be so tragically annulled once again?
In his honour and humility for you he did hunger,
But never did you care or give into chance.

How could something so fragile,
As the flickering fire of a sweetheart's seduction,
Be so pathetically ruined in the rain?
His amorous advances are all but asunder,
With malice you've split his love with your lance.

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

Exile In LimboIn my days of death,
I see that golden horizon.
With great burden of breath,
I shall ascend on those heavenly stairs,
Of those tranquil spirits I see a rising.

In my guise of grace,
I see that lilac sky.
With dread façade of face,
I shall descend on that demonic path,
Of those insolent hounds I hear a howling.

In my tears of time,
I see that charcoal abyss.
With bleak cries of chime,
I shall continue on their mortal line,
Of those weary cowards I know a calling.

In The Eyes Of A DreamerRusset leaves dance down from opal trees,
Pirouetting prettily in the midnight breeze.
Under this ancient bough I write,
Poems of exquisite bliss and beauty,
Painting scenes of romantic serenity.

Ochre sun bursts over vermilion fields,
Dazzling daintily those canopy like shields.
Below it's eternal radiance I muse,
Laments of direful amour and ambiguity,
Sketching tales of dramatic fluidity.

Cerulean waves linger along a saffron shore,
Lazing luxuriously in a celestial downpour.
Beside it's naïve essence I compose,
Idylls of rustic mirth and majesty,
Capturing dreams of artistic virtuosity.

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.

The Hardest WordTo say goodbye,
It's not the hardest word.
My honesty is all but broken,
And I look away with eyes so blue,
I cannot say with these tears I cry.

To say sorry,
It's not the hardest word.
My ignorance only leaves you shattered,
And I know in my heart so black,
I should apologise but I'd rather fly.

To say no,
It's not the hardest word.
My addiction drives you insane,
And I feel that my ears bleed so red,
As I struggle to answer your one question: why?

Black-HeartOh look at her with ivory eyes,
Striking the velvet veil of starless skies.
Is she a draconian demon ready to bring ruin,
Upon those that ripped her life apart,
With every pulsating beat of her black-heart?

Oh look at her with crimson claws,
Maiming the satin skin of monstrous maws.
Is she a bedlam beast desiring to grant devastation,
Upon those who mocked her for a start,
With all the wild begging of her black-heart?

Oh look at her with ebony breath,
Purging the flaxen flesh of devilish death.
Is she a cruel creature who wields her earthly wrath
Upon all who took to hurt with such art,
With the aching echoes of her black-heart?

Second ChanceShow me a little faith,
Please don't give up just yet.
There's no need to plea for redemption,
Because with me you are safe,
Away from that darkest devastation.

Show me a little hope,
Please don't turn me away now.
There's no meaning to deny your mortality,
Because with me you will cope,
Even in that colourless city.

Show me a little love,
Please don't close your eyes,
There's no reason to continue this worry,
Because with me you are a dove,
And I'm here to say sorry.

If This Be My LastIf this be my last,
I'd better scar the sordid skin,
With a blade cut flourishing fast.
I might not know where to begin,
But I'll end this loathsome life of sin.

If this be my last,
I'd better bruise the bloody bone,
With a hammer blow anguishing aghast.
I never believed this could happen,
But now here I stand with a knife sharpened.

If this be my last,
I'd better tear out the traumatic tendons,
With a scythe flash punishing past.
I could suffer so much internal pain,
But I'll always have these umbra urges again.

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More from ~NemoX7

The Land of TearsFight through your fears;
Hold my hand,
And we'll forget the years.
Of this land,
Called a thousand tears.

Evil can be everywhere;
Stay by me,
And we'll run from there.
Until the sea,
Traps us forever here.

Horrors you can't hide;
Smile once more,
And we'll banish them aside.
Open the door,
To a land we can reside.

Blink in utter bliss;
Walk in air,
And we'll laugh and kiss.
Forget your scare,
Of that land we shall not miss.

Tastes Like AcidI take one more sick sip,
But this bitter beverage,
Is like acid at average.
Down my throat it burns,
I feel drip by bleeding drip.

I take another grim gulp,
But this dark drink,
Is like intoxicating ink.
On my tongue it corrodes,
And it blisters into a pulp.

I take a final suicidal swig,
But this corrupt concoction,
Is like putrefying potion.
And my body it suffocates,
As I die in this grave I dig.

BastionIt's a strange sensation,
To be your fascination.
I'm in your eyes;
A man who forever cries,
With tears falling from stormy skies.

It's a dire distraction,
To be your irritation.
I'm in your care;
A man who takes a dare,
With sanguine sins all laid bare.

It's a perilous prediction,
To be your imagination.
I'm in your caress;
A man who smiles less,
With dreams in a mourning mess.

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.

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Submitted: May 6, 2012
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The Pain Within

by ~NemoX7, May 6, 2012, 5:33:53 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Let 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 Pain Withinby ~NemoX7

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I kind of wanted to evoke the view of someone who has been left broken hearted by someone dear to them. Well, that's my general premise in the middle of writing this poem.

Critique by ~TheEnemyOfHateIsArt May 6, 2012, 5:59:44 PM

I think is really quite good. There is one thing I want to address, and that's that not every line deserves a comma at the end of it. Take for example the second paragraph. If you remove the commas after "part" and "pain" it could help with the fluidity of the piece. I most definitely struggled with putting commas after every single line of my earlier poems, and it sometimes leaves the reader or reciter with a disjointed rhythm. That being said, I really did think that it was a well made piece. Oh, and because I'm slightly OCD, I noticed that you used "you're" when "your" was needed.