[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

XXXXXEven now,
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.

Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.

Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.

It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

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House or HomeEyes adjust.
light's low in this place.
Ears perk
Up just a bit
Only creaks and groans.

An old house.
I'd never seen it before
Here in this place.

Foot steps.
Level tracks in the dust.
Light streams.
Through boarded windows
and floor boards above.

To awake here.
This home of memories,
had been thought lost.

Dust motes.
Float soft through the air.
Lofting beams.
Beams of light in this space.

This room.
Has photos left in frames.
Frames on the walls of time.
Here in this plane.

A creak.
Meets my ears
from footsteps softly placed.

A figure
waits beyond.
I can see him.
He is young.

This room.
A childhood room,
left astray as last recalle

MysteriesMysteries
Mysteries.
Mysteries of life
Why should I bother
when there's always strife

Mastery
Mastery.
Mastery of force.
You won't learn a thing
Lest you find the source.

Madness
Madness
Madness all around.
Seeing falsehood and nonsense,
Yet not making a sound.

Where
Where.
Where's the answer to it all.
Keeping searching and find it.
Right up to your fall.

Knife BladeI walk the blade of a knife,
knowing not to which side,
hinders,
or helps.

The path I walk this day,
pains me with uncertainty,
and doubt.
Each side is clear and known,
but the path to each is obscured.
The path between is the one I took.
But the fog trips me greatly.

To stumble now,
at such a time,
would cause unceasing worry.
But the light,
the luminous shine,
would grant me much joy.

However,
the other could cause unceasing worry.
But the light,
the luminous shine,
would grant me much pain.

The path I walk is a precarious one,
with much trials and tests to block my way.

I walk the blade of a knife,
but the fog has

YesJoy and euphoria
A combination prized
and desired.
Cherish it
Hold it dear
For when you have it

Life

Has meaning.
This mood I feel
lifts my soul,
to the height of the gods
And lets me soar like an eagle

I see nothing but the light
No darkness around
music and laughter
Dancing and singing
Loving this life I have

My feelings burst forth
from the vault I have within
Love
Happiness
Joy
Jubilation
And others too numerous to describe.

No fear to be had,
In this mental state of mine.
No anger,
hate,
Or loneliness.

Fore all my friends are with me
In spirit
and in reality.
The sun shines bright,
And the doors of possib

She Who GuidesThe world within the mind of mine,
began as nothing more,
Than a spark when left alone.

This world within,
Became my sanctuary.
My home.
My world to control,
And explore.

As I aged,
It grew and spread,
To horizon to core.
To sun to star.

Much light was there,
In this world of mine.
However, when the midnight came.
A terrible place had bloomed.

A place filled with shadows,
Filled with sorrows,
Filled with sages,
and demons.

Throughout this land,
I run still,
To the light just out of reach.

It's a she,
No doubt,
That guides my steps.
Yet the same who pulls me back.

Who is she that leads,
And who am I to follow.
Why

OblivionAs I stand on the brink of oblivion
is there no one there to save me?
The light begins to fade again,
the light of days long past.
I feel as though i stand above,
and gaze at the world below.

My head swims with confusion,
a well known condition of mine,
from the different options that lie ahead.
But the more I think,
the more it creeps.
The shadows of the past.

I step to the edge and gaze below,
at the world and the people in,
to which i don't belong.
I stand alone it seems,
fore no one has faith in me.

To trust me.
To give me the chance,
to prove myself.

It always seems
that this world below,
has all needs and more.
Bu

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Why

by ~Suphyx, Jan 13, 2013, 7:21:14 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

The places in this head
are always as you see.
It is forever changing
with a hand of mastery.

Why is it
That I know this not
Yet been here long before.
It's always that you forget this plot
And live without the lore.

The journey through the mind
Never leads you to an end
It goes on and on and something new
Is always 'round the bend.

Why can't
I know myself
And never have a clue.
A clue to to finding who I am
or knowing what to do.

The pieces of my heart
A puzzle on the floor.
Empty spaces never filled.
Lost parts forever more.

Why don't I
Forget the past
And not dwell on dumb mistakes.
But move on and live a fuller life,
With dreams that no one takes.

Acceptance I think is what I seek.
A group where I belong.
Or that other half of me at last
I've waited for so long.

There is no answer to a why,
That no one really asked.
Just simple cues that one can use,
and conquer any task.

Whyby ~Suphyx

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

This is an original piece by Gabriel Black. It may not be duplicated or distributed without the author's consent.
I'm not sure what this means. It just flowed.

~mangaluver1231 Jan 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I loved it! I think it might be about understanding yourself but I'm not too sure. Great job though!

~Suphyx Jan 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you.

~mangaluver1231 Jan 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome!

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