[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

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

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.

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Submitted: May 8, 2012
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The Enabler

by *darkallegiance666, May 8, 2012, 12:25:17 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Her brother's not a person
Because he's only eight
He's her possession
An obsession
Another reason for a burden
In the pack she loves to carry
Holds her mummy
And her daddy
Her best friend and her virgin
All the victims she enables
So she can heep her head in fables
High in martyr land
Where she's no princess
But the God

Tapping keyboard
Writing stories
Same old plot and
Cliched people
Hollow land and empty steeple
Giving nothing but her version
Of her silent resignation
That she blurts to everybody
How it hurts to show it hurts
Oh she's rejected and exhausted
Always busy and down trodden
But that's just the way she likes it
To be needed
In her weakness
To be strong

She aims to always
Keep her mumma
Big and fat
Dependent stupid
So daddy spends the money
That will keep her snugly safely
Inside her little room
Writing for her little circle
Living in her land where
She controls
All the characters she steals
Puppets prancing on a stage
So she will never have reality
Won't understand causality
Her life will be banality
She'll never touch the dirt.

The Enablerby *darkallegiance666

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

A poem about a fictional person whose type exists.
Written May 7th, 2012.

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

wow 2 2

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*SpiritDuchess Jun 27, 2012

Youhas have penned a poem that is something I felt and thought I knew so well. But it is you that clearly has not only the understanding of the scope, but also the talent to make it a reality.

Wonderful. Absolutely, spot on.

*darkallegiance666 Jun 28, 2012

Thank you very much - that's one hell of a compliment, especially coming from such a great poet as yourself.

*SpiritDuchess Jun 28, 2012

I cannot speak to your compliment. I will say thank you.

But I will always love your words first. I can not, and will not ever try to know why. I am so in love ith the flight. Please keep with you in your heart while all around seems thorned and spiral. You are the wind where many soar with sails full and utterly joyed.

thank you so much for making my day worthy of each and every breath.

*darkallegiance666 Jun 30, 2012

Thank you - your words mean more to me than you will ever know.

*xBennyRGraux May 8, 2012 Professional General Artist

Very good, the profile of a lying manipulative emotional vampire.
I hate her type, can't stand em, always full of it.
Can't take the truth only want the sugar coating.
It's like if they take a dump they put frosting on it and want you to eat it...
great work. This type of woman makes me so sick and frustrated its a
mracle I dont hate women altogether yet.
I've been around too many to count.

*darkallegiance666 May 8, 2012

Not only women - I've known males like this too. Although - I've found it more in women, unfortunately.

Thanks for liking the poem!!

*xBennyRGraux May 8, 2012 Professional General Artist

thats true, particularly paranoid bipolars and men with aspergers

*darkallegiance666 May 8, 2012

My nephew Alan is bipolar & I've got a fairly good idea that he's paranoid at times.

I have problems with it though. He's also very intuitive at times. Does this mean that he's spiritually in tune & just has a different name for low forces?

He believes that my sister (his mother) is reincarnated from an evil sorcerer. Oh, the stories I could tell you about him. I haven't seen him for ages, and he was a rotten little kid but he's a good adult.

*xBennyRGraux May 8, 2012 Professional General Artist

Ihope hes a good adult. I cant stand em though

*darkallegiance666 May 8, 2012

He's a better adult than he was a child - that much I know for sure. He's also much nicer now that he's clinically insane than when he was "sane". I haven't seen him for some years now, but I wouldn't really want to see too much of him. A little of him goes a long way - if you know that old saying!!

My sons always said that he was their most interesting cousin.

I loved that Godzilla/King Kong wrestling match. You told me days ago to watch it & I only watched it last night. It made me laugh & it was fun!!!!

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