The gift

Had the soul been granted
the most precious gift
or the foulest filth?
For the gift..
spoiled as it had claimed it never would.
And the soul was stricken with disease
that the rotted gift had spread to it.
The soul was punished
for accepting the gift.

Tricked heart

The heart was love and lust,
but mostly selfishness.
And when love it was given,
the heart devoured the delightful dish.
But the heart yearned for excess,
for all love that did exist,
but the heart was granted no more,
but torture in place in the blissful dish.

Time Vs. Loss

Many times the sun and moon,
ever trustworthy, rose and fell,
but could not in any amount
ever the despair of loss dispell.

What disappointment

The efforts from me drained
constructed what but disdain
for in all my words concocted
is lone the failure I've adopted.
Each articulation once of joy
proves now merely a cruel decoy.
Pretty was but petty,
obscured by falsity;
Pride was all disgrace,
behind a fragile face.

Desensitization

Relishing the agony
of stinging nightmares' mark
is a trick whose goal most cunning
does hamper coming dark,
for what is sunlight of a dream
but one of terror's absence?
And all that does grim fantasy clean
is having known too well its talons.

Lies

Does the passage of my righteous
feign for sake of wrong?
Does my tunnel weep, blasphemous
in its seemingly syrupy song?
Is my voice merely caniving,
a plague my eyes from blinded?
I shall halt my every striving,
for evil's in all I've kindled.

What world.

My paws roam the realm
of a world caving in,
an ocean one moment calm
abruptly thrashed by wind.
Can not the threshold bare
my minuscule requests?
But see the gates of paper tare,
a tear such a conquest.

conquered

Who could but gaze
in trance perplexed
but all amazed
at their own conquest
For authority derived
of the stature of nature
could all blessings deprive
and the weathered conjecture
of worthiness in the once blessed life.
Stripped of all nobility,
the joy and claim of merit,
crumpled is the weak by cruel authority
to triumph, its royalty blaring.

Moonrays In The Forest

Many beaming moonrays,
coiled through the trees,
glided against the dark haze,
to rinse like would the seas.
The forest, furious in luster,
grew to love the cloud
of radiation bouncing faster
than any a thing by laws unbound.
The thickets stretched their arms
in a breeze to reach the source
of the glow by shadow unharmed
traversing every course.
Branches reflected the beam,
the cold, polished stream,
and were purified by its steam.

I need

My heart is dry and tethered,
enthusiasm weathered,
for all my words were severed
by the knife of fault
and wherein inside my vault
is that tumultuous fault
but within my own guilty soul?
My doubt has taken more than its toll,
it's pried from me my only gold
that was the sun to melt the mold
of desire to rid my last hope.
But hope's all plummeted down the hole
the gaping hole my knife of doubt cold had sold
to my helpless soul.

night's kings

There is a tune
aflame with dread
that stalks as moon
gazing overhead.
It chokes the air
with fearful lightning
that caught in stare
more gorged its frightening.
It is the caw
of the night's old kings
who sweep till dawn
their mighty wings
All in excitement
to kill the things
of any contritement
could from in them bring.
The kings wear crowns
of a thorny sort
and on them frowns
for a treasure's abort.
But grim as are
the ghastly grins
reversed to char
audience with sins,
they are not at the hands
of joy's depart;
they rest in lands
rather of joy's sort.
And all they crave
and pine aloud
is not to good save
but it's essence drown.
The kings of night
are cruel in might
to kill the sight
of day's benign light.

worry

The pulse is a slow bubble
beating against ribs from within like prison bars
as they encage the melody in the rubble,
the polluting steam of troubled cars.
For the scent of flesh inside is tainted,
stricken with a rash of illness,
as bones can with lone worry tremble sated
for no hope is encased as any trifles.
And how it baffles the heart to think
no anxiousness could be relinquished,
but the skin is immune to the heart's wink
as its hope silently diminishes.
And the beat never manages a pause
in all its traumatic little taunts,
never a sliver of hate away it tosses,
its buried too well 'neath its noise so gaunt.

Was It You Who Crushed Me?

A swooning hawk did pluck my fate,
The only thing to dissipate
behind the moon, a diamond great.
My clock was tossed across the stars
shooting galaxies abound afar
to shrivel back from its long soar
to a crinkled pundle, spin nevermore
to catch the crimson flame of adore
as it once soared.
For what has trampled its fluid flight,
what tempted evil to the night
but the feet of agony for withering sight
of all that ever blazed any bright.
What cruel hands had from the fingers sprouted
to push the plush from twinkles now pouted
and put such pity in the fire shouted
But the villian was all to it amounted.
And what a sinister did clutch the moon,
what did crush the lovely womb
of that delightful fume to insert its gloom
and now what's brimming but deathly doom.

The Angel

From the mournful depths of a sinister cave
teeming with ancient spiteful shards
arose the angel from its dusty grave
to unbury herself and all fragments discard.
Springing through a beam of gleaming
flourescence she did tenderly make her ascent
in flaming skin from which a glint was steaming
and neath eyes from which flickering hazel was sent.
Her wings coated rich in metallic gold,
she spoke eloquence my heart did behold.
She wrapped me in felicity,
tearing me from my crippled seat
to toss me in her joyous sea.

Loss

Once, I did foreshadow
what was to come about;
I knew the notions gathered
would be a grievous clout.
Palpaple was the past
but even more its aftermath,
for nothing else could have cast
from the precious marvel last
but my anguish so steadfast.
For inevitable was its retire,
and I could not extinguish,
could not deplete the fire
of somber when did it singe the attire
of my sweet serpent of a liar
that was my own soul on some level higher
of sad, a sadness for the absence most dire.
And a fallicious snake I had been to me
for ever clutching the cruel decree
to think somehow it would not leave.
But abandoned have I been,
and where fault lies is not wherein
nor who on but rather on my own sin
which pressed for loss, no battle's win.

Cigarette

A cigarette is all that rests
upon the lips above the breasts
of the swooning dove on her tainted chest
for her heart has bled a soup
thick to clog her throat
and all sweet now with which she has to bloat
is lone the sacchariferous smoke

Melancholy Sky

Tis a somber tune
that crept upon the stars.
with distortion does it croon
as melancholy it regards.
And melancholy's all it is,
the sky in its abbhored fit
as it relinquishes the bliss
once floating with a goldness lit.

Hipocracy

To negotiate the righteous
is to stir about the wrong,
For what seeker of any kindness
could withstand the bloodshed long
as the weaponry does tower up
just as does the sinister prevail
when permitted is it to seep
beneath the good's shielding veil.

evil time

For the endlessness I pour my cry,
for if no end, no definition arrives.
The insignificance is all too devoid;
I weep for what boundless time has soiled.
It's infiltrated all satisfaction;
it's ransacked the every distraction,
for all was pillaged by its detraction.

Dawn

The steam of night's brew,
the dawn's gentle dew,
is the fountain of day anewed.
Has it crept from the earth,
or was from sea unearthed,
no matter, it is the only hearth.
For when erupts the sun,
its freshness all too blunt,
the fountain is into lunged.

Starlight

Could for my sun not a thing compensate,
for what ever is else is a thing irate.
There's not a ray of jubilance righteous
aside from mine but a hindrance, heinous.
A sky void of the star of mine
is a sky ablaze in wasted time,
For what is there if not my saint
but a nothingness or else a taint.
A dawn to dusk barren of my luster
can nothing be but a despaired old shutter.
For what is lord and does all splendor muster
but mine and be it not, only all the duskier.

I wanna be like you

An incandescence is on your marble skin,
illumination seeps from your fingertips!
You have artistry on each wisp of hair thin
and your portraits hang too on your lips.
Tell me what bounty have you stocked,
what phoenix is it that you shed?
You've puzzles and secrets from me blocked,
and I beg to know what has made your grandeur bled!
Do tell me what has your muse articulated,
for all your divinity I wish to yield.
Confess how you've kindled what you've created,
So I may touch this exaltation unreal.

diary of a slave

I shall contort all my limbs if it will assail my master with any ease.
I shall slaughter all my whims if it will guard my master of my disease.

Strip me of my pride and maim me in your consummate honor;
For my veins I would let dry had my blood to such glory gone for.

Cleanse

Eyes are cursed to be blessed;
the fallious must come before fact.
For what joy can over any eye be dressed
if that eye beholds no trevail of the past.
And what can be seen of the truth,
if indistinguishable is a lie,
not a thing can be seen by the sleuth
if upon no untruth has he spied.

Ears bleed before sealed with melody;
the music sparks only after the silence.
For what instrument can play any degree
of sound if quiet has not first triumphed.

Heart, don't depart

My heart wanes back into the night sky,
an abysmal pit all too forlorn.
And roosting lone is my soul to cry
for it's me my treasured gem has scorned.
Some wire has cleaved it from me,
and the wire my esteemed has welded.
For unwittingly it spurned to not see
That within only I it is sheltered.

Love Over Lies

There rests a castle of rubies
amidst imprisonment;
Lies in it abundant seas
of sincerity, the merriment.
Upon a hill of feigned life,
is the supple satin of kings,
and a king is one ever rich with the strive
to brew the best song he can sing.
And all the songs of such sumptuous taste
were extracted of most inspiring a face;
This is the face of love divine,
the frank felicity arched over cries.

The Hours

Time is the shackle
binding my shaken bones,
the villainous chain
wound tightly round my moans.
The clock declares our slavery
with each ticking tremble,
and mercilessly I'm thrust down
to with it slowly crumble.

I shiver within these chinks
encrusted with caniving shards,
And weep for what talons have crippled me,
who dealt me these cold cards!
Yet I know too well each puncture
is from knives the hours sculpted,
for the hours are my master
and I'm their exhausted puppet.

Love Potion

He has hoisted me into the heavens,
for his remedy was a superb cider.
The bubbling potion I guzzled in seconds,
for irresistably it glided.

What a victory to fill the hollow center
that had chewed from deep within;
And now it's plugged with emeralds,
each polished to a twinkling grin.

His face, my portal to a sacred magic,
beams frosted with ample artistry.
His hands tucked, to move too tragic,
behold my sentiment with mystical mystery.

Indeed, his poison of enchantment I've drunk
And drunk til not a tiny trickle remained.
And my heart, once a corpse now a laden trunk,
Stows all intoxication and is free of any stain.

Sad Song

The world offers no beads of nectar today;
It is dry and wrinkled with somber old age.
Lain before me is emptiness alone portrayed;
And in the cruel bleak of it I am encaged.

Not a blade of grass nor drop of dew could glisten,
My heart could not purr with such joy.
There is not a word spoken of charm I could listen,
Nor may I pet any jem or blissful toy.

The sun weeps behind ominous clouds;
The sky grimly frowns in despair.
For all servents of mather nature around
Know today that she simply can't care.

Today is the day gloom prevails;
As the babble of creatures has ceased,
for a sullenness has set everywhere,
and illumination has quietly deceased.

Fill A Page

Lying restlessly before me, a void arena
seduces me into its barren plain.
How infatuated I am to fabricate;
How I crave to concoct words most untamed!

Fidgeting with fantasies, my mingling mind
does too many images attempt to describe.
So bedazzling is its plethora of ideas aligned;
How it aches to mold the most dazzling design!

I hunger to engrave upon the bare,
for the marvels of the world I yearn to share.
For each glimmer of glory my eyes have caught,
lasts a wish to mirror to all the beauty sought.

Aaaah

My arms, coiled bones and wary flesh,
envelop a manifestation, vivaciously fresh.
My songs sing for this instant I know no less,
So I secure the elation tightly to my breast.
What a lustrous light I've stared.
The stars could not compare.
No, they fall back to the abyss of dark
whilst my luster is glazed in blaze ever stark.

king, hold your kingdom

A flood of fervor swiftly swept away
the shards of past, stinging days.
A kingdom is this newfound splendor,
how grandeur this palace of a place.
But from fragile threads it dangles,
for its master is one and one alone.
Pray the wizard make no shambles
of the gold plated pillars he's grown.

mend me

It was in a meadow of euphoria
that I was finally mended..

The poison once cursing my heart
burnt quickly to ash of no harm.
For whence came the ecstasy of embrace
but when my hands brushed your gentle face?

Not a moment ever passed before
that on such a cloud of smitten did I sit,
till came the dawn that mended me,
when did you caress my draining fit.

What a crown of divinity you had
and to think you saw me in royal light!
What ever made me beam with that
was alone your approaching sight.

I gazed in surprise as you reached,
ebbing closer in such loving fashion,
you gathered me nearer as you beseeched
and my heart to yours promptly fastened.

The Seas Never Lay

From the sea, angry waves roll in
brimming with tumultuous froth.
For this is the sea of wrath,
and fate hinges on its unbalanced game.

This water of utter black thrashes
beneath a sun, its sheen of pearls;
the pulsing rays trample the fury
of the waves as they topple in a curious fluster.

The sun's beams speak the voices of angels,
quelling the great vengeance of the waters,
And begging calm to come,
to relinquish the frenzy of the foam.

Yet what does perverse the warm spell,
but the might of wind and storm,
refusing to let so easy the quell
take within hate a new form.

Daydream

Sweet daydream,
I will plummet into your sacred bed of fairy tales.
So I may flush the consciousness of beating hearts,
the pulses all around me, so haunting..
Do press them behind my sky.
Only one I shall pluck to dream of
And that one purges the muddled confessions
from all I ever winced for.
And erupting will be the contracting swarm
of mockingbirds flittering neath my chest.
For, daydream, what euphoria are you,
to have my heart by you kissed.

The Killer That is Quiet

Silence like a steel fist strikes blows upon me,
ever wrathful on my brow where pours my perspire,
sweet with all that was good now hastily fleeing me.
For the quiet is a killer of truth
as it does vanquish the elegance of life,
as it pries from me my trifles,
the trinkets of gleaming joy I beheld.
Secluded, I am bound to this peninsula,
connected to something somewhere,
but the route I cannot comprehend.
My soul forever parted from the bonds of what is real,
does shower out the wails of wounds I cannot heal.
Oh, the dreadful lull!
Within it I do sulk,
Pouting, moaning, where has gone the familiar melody!
The music of faces in company!
From my distractions, they are freed.
And, lone, I discern the distance of the truth.
As silence has melted it here.

My VampiraVampira

Royal maine befalls marble breasts,
Heavy eyelids lay upon fiery eyes,
And a pout injected with strength
does cover the majestic fangs.

Vampira, vampira!
The name a scream and echo
like the calamity that is her shadow
or any trace of her royal soul
fierce it is a piercing moan..

Mmmmhm.

Gaze beneath the hazy sky
to recollect that instant
in which what mattered had all been gathered
and bound to loves unconstant.

Turn back to stare down
the path so quickly paved;
Strain to recall what lies
gently tucked within the haze.

Slowly tug the clock's hands back;
Glare through the mirror as time retracts,
And see those tricks, ticks of the clock,
Cannot now a thing of love mock.

For all that consumed the good of the bright
sprung forth true meaning of what is so light.
The wrongs that fell upon those moments to be vanished
can now alone make sturdier pure triumphs oh most lavish

Poem Starting With A Line From Norman Dubie

A kiss is like a dress falling off a tall building,
landing quietly upon the concrete, its ruffles very shielding.
Silent love like an exalted ulcer to the edge made a dash,
and the union of thrilled lips was the subtle crash.

Nonsense

The pen screeching thoughts so pensive;
the paper in apprehension overly sensitive;
the table shivering too with anticipation;
the floor complicating the pen's obligation
as rising is it and mounting the subjugation
to occur within the pen's thoughts alterations.

The Man's Mermaid

A single man residing upon the shore
gazed out as always at the waves, now torn
by a beauty that not his made him forlorn.

The creature with exhilarating allure,
eyes, green, searing, angelic as nothing before
he wished to own for him alone to adore.

The elegance of her pale and flawless skin
was glorious as was her scaly, cushiony fin,
and her as his possession was all he cared to win.

Seductive were her pink, plump lips,
and from them a fluid, fresh language dripped,
and all the man desired was from the world her clipped.

The feeling she effortlessly, accidentally induced,
evoked the threat of her freedom reduced
as absence of his domination upon her he refused.

The vision could no longer remain,
as she left, bolting in great disdain
after revealed was the nature of his cruel game.

Celebration

Between the solemn sun's gradual rise and galloping set,
alive was endless exuberance which to I eagerly did connect.
That day of delightful distance from the routine's dubious sameness
was the turn I savored, celebrating consciously but with an untamedness.
Liberated from my pain, my eyes did their clarity regain,
and aware I was of the lovely people that melted my disdain.
In my ears poured the pleasing hum of a crowd immersed in words,
so consoling was their buzzing as the cherished songs of delicate birds.
The day of celebration I yearned for eternity it to extend,
for it unlocked within me jubilance, to my outlook a great ascend.

Muse

A monotonous mind abruptly ignited
by a fascinating spark that excitedly enlightened.
Singularity by surreal sensations
seemingly was distinguished,
though present were required compensations
to the originator of the idea that was relinquished.

The conception, belonging to no lone man,
was transmitted by the submitted inspiration of another's stand.
The identity of the idea's architect remained silent,
for to his muse he was a thief too he confided.

Man's Fall

Distraught from aggression was mankind
who instigated with their obsession their decline,
for they were approached with a fee,
stemmed from their greedy plea.

Agitation poured from the disintegration
of their so necessitated modern predation
which, so enhanced with their sweaty hands,
appeared to meet their cruel demands.

Yet the vision unclear did incorrectly them steer,
for their evil bore evil within their crude career.
Strength it seemed but weakness was it truly deemed,
though the harm to retrieve and stress to receive never leaned.

Man's actions proved to be mere distractions,
deviations from their legitimate creations.
The fate they made did cause satisfaction its fade,
and placed their inevitability beneath a dreary shade.

My Mission

Each transportation into consciousness,
an addition to all of my conquests,
as when awakened, so perturbed I am by that desolate flap,
the startle yanking me into the mourning of the morning's trap.
Boisterous and bitter as bold winter, my dejection,
binded as a bruise to of the world my reflection.
The torch of love was once so gloriously glowing,
its flames, exquisitely vivid, only growing.
Marionette I was to love yet now to my tribulations,
I stow within my core all my dreary degradations.
Dug into myself are my terrible talons so abhorrent,
plagues with fringes visible slightly in my distortment.
Rotted love like spoiled fruit has made limp my condition,
but within me for my vengeance, anger lies no rendition.
A jam is clasped unto my forgotten delight ,
The lever I must jerk to defeat my somber fright.
The melody of ecstasy I will again possess,
though for the time being it sadly lies in rest.

Leech Obsession

The guise of my obsession
does coax the wrong impression,
for my session with him passed,
my confessions did not last.

I reaped the bad sower's sorry harvest,
I tore the creater's art and it gashed my guilty chest.

To me he exists a leech,
ravaging my energy,
Tumbles away my old beseech,
and any doubt upon his perjury.

Unworthy

My defect weeps as my hatred it keeps,
lamenting as upon my contentment it creeps.
My blister screams as it you have deemed
much too degrading and to me you feigned.

The End

Tranquility is brought by my concealment,
comfort envelops me and inside me is sent.

Soothing is the dullness I once possessed,
Yet now more chaos inhabits my chest.

I long again for the wonderfully familiar boredom,
I cringe though as I predict it never again to come.

Yet I did once sing with such elation
for my old now but once young creation.

How forlorn to think my song deceased;
How languishing to know me now diseased!

Yet that time of beauty passed,
And lingers now nothing that did last.

Myself

The commander of this sturdiness,
The director of myself,
The authority of this alertness,
Into my soul does delve.

My anchor I am,
From inside to out I am the link,
My contentment so crammed
Within me never shall sink.

I require not the slightest service
As the cause I am of my deliverance.
I desire not the aid once sought,
As the fight I am has for me fought.

Funny Love Tanka

Hysterical his discrepancy as pursuing balance does he try,
Eyes profuse with tenseness; his frustration does in his skin cry.
As he clings to his somber mentality I rejoice
I anticipate enthusiastically his approaching choice
To in his mind myself I know he shall retrace.

Image part II

Irritatingly bitter the dread
with a perplexity unexpected
that sprouted from the tred
of this image in my head.


Infuriating the irking growth
of desire for to my image cajole,
and agony lies within in the folds
of this image I behold.

High School Hearts

So contrite I am to have alleviated you,
so irritated now by your detractions.
To think from myself I deviated too
to plunge into your mendacious entrapments.

Yet how could I, merciless, vindictive, stand,
my resentful dismay upon you land;
I cannot provoke within you pain,
I could not bare to from you refrain.

What Is Poetry?

Darkness is this companion binded firmly upon my back;
Melancholy the perfect morose match nothing lack.
Burden he is to my perceptions,
planting me pitilessly in the wrong directions.
Yet in the moment's instance
His wit shows the most needed assistance;
This devil I despise who I blame for my demise,
His words are but of bleak beauty cries.

His meak whimpers, as his presence I recognnize,
abruptly into potent wails metamorphosize.
He is in me my horrid dark as well as my only light;
He incites such articulate beauty and all the glory of the night.
He, my evil my passionate self irate,
is the origin of each thing of me great.
He is the sorrow and misery of hate;
and as the commended author of what I create.

Inspired

For you, the world hesitated,
to absorb all you inspirited.
Bewildering how full of charm,
your beauty, eloquence did me alarm.

The face, teeming with delightfully divine enchantment,
illicited in me an emotionally ecstatic enhancement.

I plunged into thought so very deep,
and your illumination into me did seep.
Opened my eyes became
To the beauty of the unclaimed,
the free, the most untame,
the ones who behold the firiest flame.

The Forbidden Love

Obscured by the coat that holds it wedged within
is the temptation that provokes my gleefull grin.
I satisfy it every day, succumbing to my love forbidden,
which tantalizes all my thoughts, and my thoughts I must keep hidden.

Sweet laughter does my favorite indulgence incite,
As it cradles me, dissolving inside me my fight.
Welcoming my love to suppress my disputes,
my exasperated mentality now renews.

Fear

Harbored in my startled heart,
lingers a loathsome fearfulness,
Rejecting callously any depart,
and filling my body with dire distress.

Panic is exposed in the pace of my breath
for inside I itch with grim, ferocious fear.
Petrified of a world whose only escape is death,
Terrified this agony looms frighteningly near.

Harrowing the path must be ahead
where suffering lurks, the karma of my hoax.
Heinous is the day I so very much dread
that brings me the truth of my obstructing cloaks.

Morbid is the coming hour
that haunts me through the night.
It is me that they shall devour.
My deciet removed, the time so right.

RWP: Recycling World Publications

I, upon which many sordid blemishes sit,
venture to relinquish the guilt of the culprit
who strips from me my vivacity and my pride
deluding me with lies, never failing then to hide.

Malicious he is as he tosses me away
back into the vicious cycle without delay.
He resides inside my bones that ache from him though,
And over him I clutch not the least control.

My mind is recycling thoughts, inspecting each once more,
Fiercely flinging through them, seeking the one least torn.
The one whose logic, most complete, holds steadfast,
And heedlessly into action this thought I cast.

I immerse my ears and my eyes and all my flesh
into the ink, the abyss of a world so fresh.

I emerge into reality again
Shattering the waves of the ocean
that lies between my dreams and here.
Upon this ground I once more can say I stand,
yet my stand is one much more open
And I'm short of my previous fear.


Upon my face and with my body are publications,
expressions and gestures, established as my creations.
And what I've made reveals me in a brighter light
I finally can fathom myself in a different sight.

Shuffled Songs Poem!

Falling In Love With You
Crazy Nights
Nevermore
Sea of Sorrow
Home is Where You're Happy


Falling in love with you
is flying across the vast sky,
spreading my arms and my toes
to feel the whimper of the cold air's cry

Trickling my way into crazy nights
moments pass and come nevermore
Shaken by the fright
of your grief, my mind forever sore.

Your breath ensures my life tomorrow,
But it's brimming with your sea of sorrow.
You exclude me from within,
Tear from me my closest friend.

Home is where you're happy though,
I cannot pluck you from your sanctuary,
Cannot confrom you with my arbitrary
oddities;
You cannot abandon your life,
And farther on alone I must strive.

Exhausted

Crawling in my head through the deep, dark murk
Are thoughts of my legs that are dead
And my muscles that wrestle with a queerly quick quirk.

Exhausted from the torment of life,
No longer could I possibly strive.
I no longer endeaver to endure the weather
of barriers that cannot induce the least pleasure.
Worn with disappointment and hate,
The end of today finds me very irate.


The soft, swift night shall tuck me though
into covers of its abysmal, sweet dark
comforting me with the knowledge
that only is it my choice to embark.