|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Toeing the LineI walked on the chalked line,
Watching carefully my every step,
The world dancing chaotically,
The voices a wild cacophony.
The white-chalked line stretched
To a light far beyond the grassy hills,
Which illuminated the land around,
Serving as a guide amidst the chaos
Of the discordant, shouting voices
And the sky in its overcast grave,
Dividing misery amongst its subjects.
Though I walked determinedly,
The line seemed infinite in course,
Extending well past the horizon,
Growing thinner at each timid step.
Before me, and, indeed, behind,
Rows of people walked with fear
On the chalk-strewn line to the light,
Which streamed from a distant window,
Penetrating the tangled darkness
And evading our desperate hands.
I walked for miles and several days,
The line glowing by the light from afar,
Trudging wearily along the line,
With feet and eyes deprived of rest
And mind in constant disarray.
It struck me then, at the hour of doom,
Light and line lacerating my lumbering limbs,
That this line led
Plateau of ShadowsI wander into the plateau of shadows
A dreadful eternity of isolation
The storm gathering overhead
Enter a world of strange sensation
There is no solace in this place
Only destruction and destitution
Fear and desperation fill my face
The storm clouds deepen in darkness
The screams of buzzards echo infinitely
Skulls scattered on the arid ground
Ghosts crying mournfully to God
In this land, no hope is to be found
No light penetrates the vapid clouds
Shadows silence the once vibrant trees
Death, with his omnipresence, surrounds
A crowd of tormented people rush to their end
One thousand weeping souls all stand alone
Tyrannical thunder erupts through the valley
Grim looks on their faces as they accept fate
One thousand graves being dug by the sea
A whiff of the odious odor of death
The shadows pass from the withered ferns
I kneel down before my hour of doom
From this plateau I will not return.
Flow of the City StreetsA leaf drifts along the dirty gutter,
Meandering aimlessly with the trash,
But carried away by the cool breeze
In the infinite flow of the Earth.
Nameless street signs lie ahead,
And the road diverges in thousands of directions;
The leaf mingles with the lingering sewage
And the scattered lumps of stray leaves,
Which once descended from varying trees,
Unified now by their vapid vagrancy.
The leaf is trampled by a stampede of feet,
Its limp, crushed body still floating away,
With forlorn faces beholding it indifferently
And passing by with lackadaisical eyes,
Bespectacled by gray-lensed glasses of sanity,
Atop heads driven hastily by instinctual legs.
The sky overhead conjures overcast clouds
As the leaf embraces mother Earth's benign apathy;
Dirge from a lonely man's saxophone fouls the calm air,
Nebulous with city haze and dully rising smoke;
The leaf, stumbling into rainbow-colored litter,
Is pushed further onwards by the brotherly win
Time's GraveLike paper adrift in the howling wind,
Time eludes our groping hands,
Escaping the hook of our fishing poles,
A spirit passing from land to land;
Appearing as a bountiful harvest,
A feast for the belly of a gluttonous snake;
But strikes like hunger from a virulent drought,
Leaving only regret in its pestilent wake.
The birds stay ensconced in their homely nests,
Opportunity having landed and flown,
While men sit in the comfort of the cool shade,
And holy men are turned into stone.
Some men live in windows, others in dreams,
With only bars of steel standing in sight,
Sunshine faces walking past like a breeze,
Giving rise to the full fury of fright.
The peach on the table is rotting to its core,
A putrid stench lingering from its day-old decay;
Sloths lounge about on the bark of tree limbs,
As the ground is being filled with fresh graves each day.
An endless cycle perpetuates itself,
The uninvited moon peeps over rooftops,
Summer and winter are one and the same,
And swaying gently are th
Ticket StubA ticket stub lies discarded
On the darkened bedside table,
Coated with stains from buttered fingers;
Used and then carelessly disposed of,
It marks the start of nightfall.
A night of laughter and cheaply bought thrills,
Of widened pupils and candy-strewn floors,
Of iridescent lights and burning rubber--
All rest in the stub left to decompose.
The theaters have emptied,
All of the players in bed;
While the spectators have flown,
Scattering stubs in their slimy trails
For the broom-bearing sun to brush away.
To home do the night birds depart,
The flock left in ruins for the solace of sleep;
Minds anticipate the coming of day,
And all that remains is a blank ticket stub.
She Cannot SeeShe cannot see her beauty,
Which wades before her eyes,
Blinded by some inner demon,
Closed shut by ribbon ties.
She wanders about, trying to seize
Something she'll never find,
So dissatisfied, so hard to please,
Fettered by chains which bind;
In life she cannot find much ease,
Her blame rests on her chaotic mind;
Though her rage be as turbulent as the seas,
To herself she is the most unkind.
Perfection lies just out of her grasp,
Translucent in her mirror image.
While her hand and her lover's lay in a tight clasp,
Still she engages in scrimmage.
Her hideous appearance ignites a horrid gasp,
Yet I cannot see even a blemish.
Twisted lies tear at her body,
Hiding her beauty under a black curtain,
Veiled so that no one may ever peek;
Of herself she remains so uncertain,
To no one does she dare to speak.
She cannot see her transparent beauty,
But I, I see too much of it.
Beauty's EvanescenceThere is a beauty so foreign to this world,
That words alone fail to do justice,
A beauty which many have sought in vain,
And because of which, many have resigned to loss.
I have endeavored fruitlessly to find
This mysterious beauty which is so sublime,
Encountering it only in fading moments,
Its presence so celestial, yet ever so transient,
Slipping through my fingers like sand on the beach,
With only infinitesimal traces in its leave.
In wild flights of fantasy it stands nearby,
Awaiting my presence in its elaborate recesses,
A choir of cherubim chanting, beckoning to me,
My grasp closing in upon the lustrous silver crown,
But I'm left behind in my squalid surroundings,
Where black and white mesh into a dull gray,
And all I can answer with is a hollow heart.
I once traveled to the edge of the world,
With net and pen in my frail hands,
Desperately attempting to encapsulate
Those rare moments of impeccable harmony;
I ascended hills towering over the horizon,
Enraptured by the loveliest
Masquerade BallCome one, come all
To the masquerade ball
For a night of merriment
To be had by all
The ball poses a picturesque scene,
With porcelain masks and swaying dresses
And painted smiles with china doll eyes,
Laughter escaping their pearly white teeth
Over sips of flowing red wine.
All attendees dance harmoniously in unison,
Creating quite a spectacle to observe,
With wailing music that inflames the passions,
Against the backdrop of a stunning glass palace.
The glass serves faithfully as a mirror,
Reflecting the scene in its entirety,
And allowing the seeker to observe
Their unmatched kingly and queenly beauty,
Enhanced by the magnetism of the magnificent mask,
So that the world may stand aghast in awe.
Cologne and perfume coalesce in the air,
Avarice gleaming in starry eyes,
And bills drip from pockets and mouths,
Golden coins spinning on the ivory floor,
As stains of red wine appear on suits and dresses
Wholly composed of a luscious green fiber.
The night concludes with cheerful partings,
Ghost of a ChildThe ghost of a child lingers,
Standing before me with untainted eyes,
Covered by rose-colored glasses,
To which the world appears fresh;
And its hardships are voyages,
On which we have yet to embark.
This child, it haunts me
While I'm awake and in my dreams,
Pouring nursery rhymes into my thirsty ear,
Silently rebuking my every action;
He sits across from me patiently,
Unaffected by the sway of time.
His unblemished, curious face
Follows me where'er I go,
Untarnished by my personal demons,
Observing my descent into darkness;
Though his mouth raises no protest,
His eyes instill in me a deluge of tears.
I see in his eyes a far-off magical world,
Where fascination takes hold of the mind
And imagination reigns unchallenged,
A world free from the excesses of sin;
His bright blue eyes offer invitation,
But my twisted fantasies lie elsewhere.
This boy, whose childhood was robbed
At a young age by a string of fiery words
Catapulted from a loved one's cold lips,
Owes his gruesome murder to some
Bleeding NightSeeping into the Night
Rivers of crimson running from a fight.
Smokey tendrils wrapping around your soul,
Pulling you into its depths, black like coal.
Shadows, playing at your every fear.
Bleeding out all that you hold dear.
Death spun from webs of dark.
Life given from blood'd spark.
One shunned by light,
The other stuck between wrong and right.
Yet, without either purpose ceases,
All controlled by our choices.
Cast away from our halls hallow,
My darkest element of Shadow.
Poured from Life's flood,
This the strongest element of Blood.
Why Aren't You Here?Breaking inside, I really need you here.
Looking around, shedding a tear.
No arms to run to, no lips that should be kissed.
Nobody to block out the question: Would I be missed?
Cause there's nobody to stop me, nobody to care.
Still looking around, nobody's there.
Alone in my room, I lay on the bed.
Nothing to hear but the pounding in my head.
Curled in a ball, I wish you could hold me.
Bring back my light, darkness is all I see.
It takes over, I slowly close my eyes.
Tossing and turning, nobody hears my cries.
Close my eyes tighter, pretend to feel your touch.
All I want is you, is that really too much?
I want to feel safe and know the safety is real.
I want to be able to show you everything I feel.
Looking back now, going through time.
Back to way before love came in a rhyme.
You said you wished you could hold me and never let go.
I want that more than anything, but I shouldn't let you know.
Maybe, just maybe I'm falling apart.
And I need to lie against your chest, listen to your hear
Shattered RealityShocks run up and down my veins
as I think back to those happy days,
look at me now I'm all shred and torn
saying and wishing I'd never been born.
Look in to my eyes of emerald green
look in to my past, now you have seen,
all the trust that I hold is shattered and broke
this is because I over heard the wrong kind of talk.
You don't understand, you deny it all
now I'm stuck regretting that I ever did fall.
I wonder why this happens to me?
all I want is for everyone to see,
I'm falling apart but I look so strong
nobody sees what's going on.
The façade I show is hard to break
if it does, my secrets all go at stake,
I couldn't handle what that would bring
Nothing good comes out of fighting.
Love can go from wrong to right,
It can change in hours just like day and night.
All Parts of YouIn those moments where I cease to breathe;
I cease to take you out of me
The earlier nights,
the life between
is pain at midnight reflecting my dreams
The fragmented memory
that keeps me awake
long after winter has melted her flake
Long after summers;
their ebb and flow-
gosling to goose to migration to snow
perhaps after eternity's mask
after planets erode in a cosmic clash
it's the staggered memories
that cease to leave
That part of you can't be removed from me.
The Edge Of ForeverI've always wondered
how would it feel
To stand on the brink of life
looking back on my existence
The final frontier, the edge of forever...
Death is fascinating
Some will mightly dread it
As others would embrace it
Yet all of them will be curious
Of what to encounter...
Death is a crossroad
People will describe it as the end
As other will set it as a beginning
Every indivual has a different opinion
But deep inside the same apprehension.
Death is life defining
After all every good story
Posesses a fitting end
Without it human beings
Wouldn't live their lives to the fullest.
Death is similar to what life is
It simply depends on
what each individual will make of it
what will you do?
When life is at its term
When everything is said and done
Will dismay or elation
Take over you while you stand
On the edge of forever.
When from this earth
You are no more but memory
Will you let your spirit free
and dare to sail onward and discover
as I await
I close my
June 1st, 2010
I cannot break
around my neck
like a noose.
I choke on
my own guilt.
Do the mistakes
that I have made
cause others to
I am descending
and I know not
where this ends.
July 9th, 2010
Don't be a memoryA picture hung on empty walls
A voice of reason amidst fools
A sunbeam in the darkest times
A poem when the words won't rhyme
A shadow in the burning light
A comfort in the lonely night
A warmth when all around is cold
A constant youth as we grow old
A word upon the vacant page
An exit from this mortal cage
A note sung out in silence deep
A rainstorm hiding tears I weep
A pristine rose atop the thorns
A dew encrusted web at dawn
A shelter from the twisted lies
An ebb between the surging tides
A perfect One amongst the flawed
A faithful truth remote from fraud
Much more, besides, you are to me
My love, don't be a memory
Chamber of FearsAlone I sit in the ancient chamber,
Where spiders spin webs of sorrow,
And the windows are boarded and nailed,
Deterring light from shining in,
As I wallow in impenetrable darkness.
Dust teems on my unshakable limbs,
The hand on the clock drums incessantly,
While with anxious eyes I watch time's escape;
Outside a parade passes in reckless fanfare,
Its effusions of joy infiltrating my deaf ears,
And fading away as quickly as it came.
Cracks between the boards offer rays of hope,
Which dance beneath the gluttonous clock,
Reminding me of the long-gone golden days
And her pale, wide-eyed, and undiluted beauty,
Entreating of me to take a stroll outside;
My slothful heart leaps in boundless mirth,
And I almost spring from the prison chair,
But my stay is permeated by incurable shyness.
Slowly but surely, my mind starts to decompose,
For in this lonely chamber I've met no repose
Dreaming of an end to this interminable isolation,
My eyes suffering drought after tides of tears;
In this old cham
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More