Moonlight Ride of the HorsemanDarkness hovers as a thick mist around,Seeping into soft skin, penetrating light of Diana.Upon the great mount, the White Horseman,Mystic of ages, consul of secrets.Ride upon the whispers of Silent Night,In thy hand the grasp of souls. And flowing mane of thy servantPlaying in tiptoe games with Wind.Drink only of the raw dew does oneself,Graceful droplets of the clean treeIn action of purity and sanctity.To be clean of the ground thy tread,Noiseless banter upon soft mud. The ride is smooth as quicksilver,Unattached to Their lonesome worldAnd yet still free from natures refuge. Light prevails, upon darknessThat suffocates the wandering tract. And fleeting glimpse of the ride,Of one such as thee, blinds sightA feeling of euphoric disillusion.A pained uncertainty of sanity,As illusion is the isle of Circe.And still nameless stranger creeps.Great black slender crept,In silence upon splash of blood red.Slowly to sink the
RustThe progression of the ambience upon the shadowy silhouettes,A deep cut in natures grimace, no longer the melancholic silence.Fresh dew, a varnish on the hovel, the foundry of man's emptiness,His footprints bare and old, and knife is carcass to the rust.But the noise is still existent, the ringing and chimes ofThe scratch of the axe upon the flesh. No longer screams, a melody of chimes and bells.So sweet the music.
FleshThough flesh has left the earth,Opiate, so sweet has not. But stays rather,An open wound.Frequent guest of ours,So close to thy heart.Phthisis should be leaving,Soon, upon my own departure. Blinding to the senses of me,Taste only knows sawdust,Vision knows no colour,Touch is an illusion.And I, left ravage for the wolves.Upon this empty bed,Struggling to raise my hand,Trying to grab your ghost.Ghost there is not,A picture frame instead.Your timeless face,To beautiful to be fully captured.Forever expression you hold,Always that weak smile,Anticipation- lonesome sign,The coming of the Reaper.
The Simplicity in DesireMy delirious lust hangs moist,Once more for the sweet taste of your smile.But what is gone forever, is forever lost,And within your tabernacle lie only bones and echoes.Like a dusty coffin, built to last only the showroom,You are already beginning to fade.And still your voice echoes throughoutSilent hallways upon the dry cracked covering.Persistent as ever,Never ceasing to shatter the heart. The war was lost and the soldiers fell like toysNo matter the cries for an end, they all fell. One by one their spirits risen,As the Grandfather of the StreamWill ride once more to lock them into eternity.My doubts however resurface,Eternity has never been what it seems.What was dubbed eternal has always become mortal.Even in the life of yourself,You lied with every word fromYour soft lulling voice.Your lullaby shambled,Your foundation cracked,Your picture ignited.Forever lost, you yourself have ignited,It was only the picture that kept you bound.Like
Lament for BeautyOh faint and distant glow so close and far,How beautiful the paradox is a coercing reminderOf the simplicity of the dry wood. And the bark of the trees-old creaks tired,A monument in the hot ash and embers,Even they could not fall.Instead forced to look upon the grave,One thousand distant dreams shattered,And lonely wails will cry on yet. Oh great city home to the nymph,Bird, and great Pan, charred and fallenTo its great enemy. It is full of the smoldering reek of fresh,Warm, thick blood, still wet upon the canvas. Never meant to be cover't up. But ash prevails, soot brimmingInto an amphitheater of what remains,Animals burrow through the black.Cancer of the scorched earth,Eyes can barely grace with the fatal glance,Beauty has withdrawn from this place,Familiar becomes forgotten.
NightOn black wing'd horses thy approach,Nightmarish carriage from blackest depths.Into the heart to strike fear,Among men, the fear of life, the end of light.And hellish fiends of Styxian realm,Minions of Shadow, knights of Pluto come.To steel thy breathe cold hard trickle,Like beaded dew, the frost, upon thy neck.And from thy eyes vision stole,End of sight, sanities farewell.
A DefinitionWords that mean the same as ‘gay’:Happy, bright, joyful.Queer and homosexual.Words that do not mean the same as ‘gay’:Weak, stupid, lame.Evil, abomination, shame.You got that?Okay.Because ‘gay’Is not an insult.
I'm Going NoWhereI'm Going NoWhere, But My Way Is Certain.
AshesLost Your name.The fireextinguished.
Oblivion.Your fleshbelongsto something bigger.
NadirHis shotgun smilesays it all -smell of rabbits matingin the basementkeeps him up at nightand he likeshis neighbor's daughteras she stands on tip-toein the back yard,peering through his windowor drowning kittens in the river.He keeps a razorin his bedroom,siphons after-shave througha loaf of breadand calls it magic,remembering how his teacherfound him naked,shoved into a closetand how she putmarbles in his mouthto keep him from speaking.His mother only laughedand told him to washhis clothes outin the bathtuband not drip wateron her carpet.Don't leave a witnesshis best friend said.Pictures have earsand walls can feellike familywhen God has seen your secrets.
Team In our days the word "team" only refersto basketball and football teams.
If you're going to be sanctimoniousAwkward bodies are for growingteenagers, not twenty-fouryear old college graduates.My hips were made to procreate;my shoulders to carry the weightof your stares. I’m perfectly fine;your perception is what’s messed up.I shave for my own comfort,not yours. My nails are shortand chewed upon. I don’teven own a pair of heels;shackles would be more comfortable.My hands are scratchedby all the cats I’ve cared for.I look best in business casual;slacks, tank, shell. I never remembermy bust size. I own more booksthan clothes. My eyes are goldin the late afternoon sunshine.I can afford a bland oatdiet and gym membership,or a new wardrobe.Or, I can be happy with what I’ve got.
LostLost –Like a vagabond.Split – At a four-waystreet, past any signsthat I comprehend.If I had I had it my way,I would cruise on the highwayand never stop.
I'm Smart, I SwearI swear, sometimes I think I would be better off dead.I'm the kind that would think better with a hole in my head.I'm not saying that I'm stupid; I just lack common sense.It's not farfetched to say that I'm a little bit dense.Some people like to think that ignorance is bliss,But honestly, who really wants to live life like this?I'm trying and I'm fighting not to be thought insaneBut it seems that everything I do makes me expressly inane.I know I may not seem it but I swear that I'm smart.I beg you, have a heart and please don't tear me apart.Give me just one chance to prove that I can be bright.Look in my mind and you will see that there's actually some light.We all have days that make us seem like we are ignorantBut don't assume from one mistake that I am broken and bent.