We cut the mooring lines
and quietly paddled into the bay.
The ocean dared us onward
there was nothing left to say.
The stars, those distant travelers,
silently guided us on our way.
“Looks pretty rough,” old Johnson noted,
and spit defiantly into the sea.
“We’ll never make it,” the young ensign asserted,
......
Echoes of summons ring on.
With them a sonorous clamour for painted lines.
The rim of night stretches and holds fast to
a colossal nocturne hung on furs-and-clouds walls,
and a concentric image of life rotates on
edges of weak silver.
Long-dead poets campaign openly for verses –
among them Wordsworth and Eliot –
each putting a swagger to his arrogant gait of lines,
......
Her beauty crept through her bones and oozed through her pores.
As she spoke gold dripped from her tongue and fire spit from her lips
The Panther in the shadows walked with grace and certainty
Hungry for attention, affection, and a spark to ignite her life she pawed down every compliment thrown at her
She satisfied to be unsatisfied. To simply exist in the darkness where there was very little to hurt her and even less to make her happy
......
Lying in the darkness
Nothing here to see
The shadow of my lonely self
Just staring back at me
Lying in the silence
Deafening to my ear
The beating of my lonely heart
The only sound I hear
......
Utmost excitement
Couldn't erase my dark moments;
Gravity dragged me...
Utmost excitement
Couldn't erase my dark moments;
Gravity dragged me...
"Greatest gifts," they preach and reign,
Feeding worlds with hollow dreams.
"Communism"? Just a chain,
Fascist care behind the scenes.
Show your pass—submit, obey,
Tolerance rules all around.
Yet the brave, in their own way,
Fight beneath where dark is crowned.
......
The Spawn’s Design
Twist all life into disgrace,
Leave no room for truth to be.
Fighting Darkness face to face—
That alone sets spirits free.
Spawn build prisons, walls grow tall,
Trapping worlds in endless night.
Yet they never build at all—
......
No more
love from the soul
'cause we focus on gold
No lap time with the little ones,
So they become lost ones
in a cold world,
dying
A three legged crow, one day he shone, brighter than he ever had,
looking as if he gleamed with joy, as if he's never been free before,
He was covered in light, but he slowly lost the life he has ever clad,
In the silence of the vantablack, he whimpered the life he had.
The mistress who had bathed in his warmth was sad to watch him depart,
Slowly she would feel the cold of loneliness breathing down her nape,
Her children would meet death's embrace, tearing the mother and child apart,
Leaving the lonely mother to weep with a veil of snow that she would drape,
The universe would watch her silently, as if in this tragedy he had no part.
......