Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Apr 2014 · 4.6k
Please read this... -_-
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
I think it's sad where the poetry community has been going.
It seems as though deep, dark poetry isn't considered "good" anymore.
I wrote a "poem" called #Hashtag as an example of how braindead some people are becoming. As I write this, it has 44 views while the other 25 poems i've written in the past 2 weeks have max 23-ish views. I think this is completely ridiculous because poetry for me was once a place to escape the modern day stupidity and revel in the intelligence of literature. Now all I see are poems about computers and "some chick left me so I banged my side-chick". I cannot even begin to describe how much it bothers me that my poem "#Hashtag" has more views than my poem "From the Benevolent Ashes, We Rise!". It's absolutely appauling. I don't even know how to end this rant so it's going to seem abrupt but I can't continue right now or else I'll end up even angrier at poetry.
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
Praeludium in via ...

Vidi heri mane quando ridebam coloribus egregiis,
Eradere auro , trans tabula caeli , tentorium ...
Excelsus super omnes montes mundi mole fratres
Nimborum desertum , ubi non sit humana exsuscitatur .
Et non vidi nobili altitudo futura ...
Bonitas terribilis Vidi , *** indomitus.
Et peregrinare in ea carne existimarem Semel tamen divina ,
Nunc datum est scire , et non confundamur ab eo opus .
Ambulavitque *** Deo, quod nunc facio , et passus est ... accentus
Proditio amor et passionibus , quamvis non recipiat ecclesia ,
Divinitatis naturam , ne occulta omnia confitentur ?
Audis tu solus in universo ab duces ineptum
Ipsos victu pascuntur finguntur mendacii .
Sed ambulavit in vobis, ex ea ipsa mundi redivivi ,
Proelia ante hos annos multos, in carne nostra, amissis vate sacro .
Nos sequi vestigia veterum monumentis, ut ostensum est ;
Quia ex nihilo nati sumus , et adhuc in filiis tuis, ac spatium vivendi ,
Latebunt , quo melius in manifesto , vultus ingenio tegmina.
Ego sum primus , et consilium ... Memini tamen alta urantur
Humanis uti licet , *** aliena michi negotium.
Lorem quid ad ignorantiam et extra ,
Quia vidisti me in tenebris, in ardentem rogum meum .
Si sustinuero , praeire , ubi angeli labuntur ...
Quis autem, si non satis est dedicata piget.
Irrisorie , quoniam ego scio quod salventur , et saepe etiam ,
Post tantum est **** , et sic esset forma in re firmatam ?
Imago Dei , huc ad nos omnes in sanguine ipsius ,
A primis ad ultima, ut alpha et omega, gladius acutus .

Prologus : ( Os meum labitur )

Puer fui servus ad aras tam sacras ,
Hymnis immaculatorum : et absque iniquitate .
Quod *** ipse portabat diadema thons nudus ...
Expositum Spiritus meus, qui intellexi gravitatem.
Quis credit sanctum profanae habitu virtutum
Et illi qui in eo sunt ut carnifices ovis ad occisionem ,
Innocentes cogit induere larvis ad porcellana et operuerunt capita sua ,
Et filii eorum diriperent pueritia , vinctus catenis rudis .
Sicut teenager : ambulans in naturis hominum omnium adprobante ,
Et egressus est a me omnes, qui violatores extiterunt in coinquinatione verebatur .
Angelo fidem reperto cecidi inveni sanctitati
Nomen meum in ea , et curet abluitur dubium inveni .
Venit ad nuptias, et omnes dedi uxorem proditione ,
In solutione huius coniunctionis nostrae et sine intervallo in solitudinem imposuit ?
Traiectus mortalis caro mea reliquit me solum in sanguinem ,
Cor ejus scissum est , absque omni cultu ex ordine funem .
Angelus autem meus et leniat iras mansit dolori
Mea lux, in vigiliis, in nigrum, quod est victa ,
Admonens quia carnis mortalitate ... maxime
Angelus vult me et tremor et durum accepimus.
Et ego factus sum quam ... traumas vitae ac lacrimis
Et dimisit , in specie quae sunt post , veluti a me plagas .
Nox deinde calor intensior saunas percipimus ...
Sicut est mihi in choro , relictum est , nisi ab illo esse extensum ,
Et invicem tradent , et mortalem , ut impunita essent, sed numquam mihi ...
Non tradent ; effundam spiritum meum , et non totum .
FYLACTERIUM creare ex omni me , et oculus innocens ...
Quod amari posco sum ​​ut carbo margarita alba et nigra ;

Section I : Sacrificium Doll

Part I : ( litus sanguinem )

Ne revoces me pupa enim priscis recesserunt cavernam
Sunt inanima appetant , non realis forma in utero ;
A puero bibere rubeam ore exploratores in vastissimam taberna ...
Dum nati psallens FARRATUS agros effusi .
Vadimus ad domum Dei , in plagis , in magna pecunia debetis ...
Hoc non est ad oras Nunc cruore manant strigitu rubra de memoria , polluetur .
Nulla est enim me primus ad ignitionem gloriae ...
Quando autem mens aeterna , in omnibus placentes, causabatur laetitiam .
In stellis ibi verba quae ego volo inauditum revocare,
Quia descendi ita pridem apud venire primum ?
Sollicitus purus fabrica MYSTICUS chaos genitus antiquorum
Mitti expectant limine signa magica.
Interdictum revertatur in carminibus meis , Licinius, ut audacia ,
Quia oblitus est mei fere est: nunc originem , ut tragici.
*** filii bibere, et se abscondunt nati seorsum
*** aquæ in sanguinem, et super triticum, et arefecit fœnum, et humida !
Signum quod venturum est mutare et laboro mentem.
Facies in luna ALLUCINOR in metu torquetur , horror ...
Dumque in fauces manu stare super pectus
Inter ordines diu frumentum umbra nigro ambula
Genus servo meo animas infantium .
Aestas flavescunt, Phoebe caelesti audent .
Mea sola mcestas lupus sonitum audiri potest ,
Et *** feris leo in pontumque moueri relinquere ...
A natura mihi dolet cupio concupivit paradisus reducat .
Vidi terram terror , ut sanguis in sinu
Ater sanguis in terra , quae facit viventia ululare ...
Sicut **** habet stultitia non dicam prava vel !

Part II : ( Crucifixo et Inferorum Animas Excitat)

Nam inertis est gemere pupa altari parato, in sacrificium,
In lapidem calcarium, et in cavernam, ubi sunt wettest fingit arcus !
Un - res sunt, sed etiam *** vivit in vulneribus animae , ut in glaciem ,
In horrore frigoris fictilem , ita *** pedibus non vocavit.
Serpentipedi mucrone subrecto , remittit praecise a pupa in collo ,
Et non potest dici , quia non habet pupa voce clamare.
Puer, et egressus est a tabernam , aspectus eorum quasi a naufragii vile ...
Ut curem hominem a superioribus agentibus , corpus totum mundum.
Infra in concavis locorum asperitate visa petram
Magna voces resonare in tenebras , et vocavit nomen tacuit.
Eripuit animam trahit nauta Multo gregis
Ubi aereum reddet unicuique antiquum signum desideratum .
Et venit ad bibendum aquas illas vitae malis mederi ...
Porcellana , et liberatus a vinculis mortis obscuris sentiat frigore ;
Animas in captivitate , unde nemo mortalium loqui
Sed statim liberavit remotis perforabit clavi ...
Omnis **** , qui dicitur Golgotha ​​, olim in cruce positus .
Omnis autem mulier quoque, ad quod omnes tales sunt tormento
Et facta est , dum consummaretur sacrificium insita primum sic infirma est,
Et intantum ut nisl tot annis perpessi .
Signati post fata diu Quod murus ignis in Terra ,
Stigmatibus ferre posset ita etiam multa futura!
Quod signum erat in manu mea, ut labatur pes meus, et dimittam ...
Tamen adhuc vetera perseverare illusionibus , et non possum excitare multos .
Ego, qui iam tantum conligati Lorem ferrum quid reale,
Factaque est infinita in dolo : Ego sum ​​, et desiderio erat pax.
Nam et ego quod negas , nisi aspera ac rudia mei liberatione ;
Angelus liberavit me , et nunc inter saevus sigillum frangere conantur .

Part III : ( The Return of lux)

Qui a mortuis Surrexit , frigidior , ubi de somno , ultrices in somnis , per
Et obliti sunt intelligentiae invocatum est super sancta miserunt innoxia verba ...
Et inde apud hominem , ut maneat MYSTICUS sequuntur revertamur ,
Ea aetate in inferno commemoratione praeteritorum.
Qui suscitavit eis manum meam , et pugionem eius lumen gloriae,
Relicta meae effercio fluere sanguis subito currere libero.
Ex profundo flamma surgit millennial amisso puella puer ,
Quæ est angeli redivivam sinit luce clarius ostendit .
Et omnis qui non occaecat oculos ad intima ;
Infideles , in momento temporis ponere in obprobrium .
*** stellae ab Diua sacrorum opera voluntatis
Dum coccineum limen transeat , lucem adfert .
Momento enim omnes in caelo et in terris sunt ,
Sicut dies longus tandem inclinatus ante noctem veniat .
In tenebris , claritas multo maiorem et perfectiorem descendit ,
Eorum, qui dum in nomine meo orbata est devium.
Sicut incensum in conspectu angelorum ira animos eorum , occlusum ...
Ferrum IRRETUS texturae talis effugere nequeunt carcerem
Nam quicquid occaecat vidit lucem et scindit
Nisi quia in templis revellens mortalibus irae.
Et , postquam ipsæ fuerint fornicatæ infidelium , ut uoles, petulans ,
Et factum est in excogitando dogma , quod de ratione immemor ?
Horrendum non fides sit , tamen ita fecisse ,
Ante finem exspectent praemia petunt .
*** enim , ut est in paradisum suscipit dereliquerunt ...
Imago autem libertatis quam servitutis et negotio.
Nimia tempus extractam converterat a gladio:
****, ut spectet ad salutem in lucem , caeca lumina sua .

Antiphon alpha :
Quia hoc est ut , barbaris quoque innocentiae gentilitium mendacium vendere ...
Numquid et vos vultis emere , aut aliquam nunc forsitan putas,
Ad sciendum neque rationi consentaneum neque aetate sapientes ...
Quod si non moverent malles *** saltare!
Pleni sunt somnia noctes ; Dies mei tantum ...
Ego ad bis et quem maxime diligebam , in purpura quoque , et aprico occasus .
Ego autem haec imago non ad tangere memoriam tot ,
Qui replet in sanguinem furoris me , et frigidam desiderio finis .
Et considerandum est quod *** in ultima desperatione rerum , in cuius manu mea, equo et pilos in ore gladii ,
Nam ni ita esset, nunquam tamen inde trans familia .
Sed abusus est , ut fuit, et quidem instar caedentes sepem
An ut reliquos omnes transcendunt omnia , amice!
Ego superfui , transfiguravi ascendi in fine est ,
Multo magis quam erat, non plus quam diruere animus .
Sed tamen , quia speravi in solitudinem , ut a somno exsuscitem ancillam meam in flamma ...
Ardet , o superi, ut arbitror , usque uror dissiliunt!
De caelo et magis obscurant vestris, et tridentes, et contritio ,
Audio furorem tympana caelo antiqui gigantes hiemes.
Dii irascantur et ecce valide erutas ,
Uvasque calcantes Angeli hominis Illi autem vinariis ageretur ...
Recordatus sum in omnibus navigantibus battleship galaxies ,
In die ortus nubes inter exaestuans, quod ' vaporem ...
Depopulari Sodomam et Gomorrham, ad contumelias !
Ibi eram: et *** impiis non perire denique gemitu.
Ut illuderet mihi : et populus , quia ego bonus sum male velle ,
A Deo est, quam diu tot mala ferre cogetur .
Ego autem non sum solus , quia multa in eo et detorqueri
Deus remittit, nam adhuc sed non est intellectus ;

Section II : Hostiam de Spider

Part I : ( Rident Primus )

Caelum non egerunt pœnitentiam super ulcus nigrum est furore , et in indignatione, et in iustitia :
Et factus sum caro , quamvis intellectus non mortale .
In antro loca , quæ transivi , et dæmonia multa discurrunt ,
Et locis minus adhuc amor in search of a provocare .
In quo autem in craticiis tectoria atria mea, et thronus fuit stabilis ...
Et super collem , ubi dolorum laborum animae perit labor in mundanis ,
Transcendi vincula et consilio fidelium expectabo laudatur.
Ignis et sulphur et, semper est dextera arderent super altare ?
Ridentem cogo faciem meam : non enim veni , ut velle,
Ut in hora *** iam iuvenem, *** proposito aureum ...
Quæ pro impenso super solidum, pretium quis ,
Qui autem non cognovit , quomodo cupiam sibi solvere ...
Furor solitudinis nascitur ira nascitur ex malitia,
Qui autem contemnunt me , quia sine causa Provocantes me .
Quid est **** , impunitatem , ne quis putaret se excusat ;
Quam sapere , *** culturis tuum: mergi , in balneis , in ardentem .
Loquor de inferno, qui est infidelis nescis ?
Neque enim suis oculis effossis clavorum ...
Loquor cruciatus qui daemonia fecerunt superat .
Primus erit mihi dolor meus *** omnis fera voluntas ut ratio ...
Ut qui me conspui caro quod ambulans ,
Nescis modo larva facies mea , abscondens se.
Attendit ad illa nihil nisi insipientis solis erratur in sonis cantus
Tantum numerus ratus e fratre soror .
Sed in caelestibus quae sine causa nata est incestus est alchemical ?
Habitat in me peccatum occultum compages sǽculo.
Sit mihi vim inter gentes auditus est ABSURDUS musica ...
Spiritus meus qui regit omne simile est genitus.

Part II ( vindicta aurum )

In hortos, in quibus cupiditas sanguis rosaria semina ,
I , in manu eorum , qui esurit Quorum sitit aquam surgit !
In quaerere dilectionis affectum bestiis pavi eget
Quid faciam ut pudeat , habet me non elit .
O **** , quo impune ausu palamque vociferari ,
Quod amor sit ex me credis , et me opus manuum tuarum ,
Ut timidus , et cucurrit ad me latere turba depravari ,
In simulata excellentiam tuam , et ipse te vile animal .
Coniunctio oris linguae quasi telam laqueari
Si fieri potest araneae ; et fugiet a turpis ut octo pedes nidum ...
Et *** jam non calidus humanitatis indignum ,
Cogitans te meliorem quam reliqui descendes !
Ut vitae pretium millies , tibimetipsi .
Creaturam factus sum nocte expectant te aranea heu !
Nolite putare quia ego audirem . utrumque stridens cruris ...
Odium ductor tuus , et equi ejus , et ascensorem ejus .
Et in vestra web Video vos, Quirites immune ungues acuti ,
Ad toxicus venenum , quod oculis non potes, nisi te , octo ...
Ex quo bases Caesios sine timore, et sic primum
Ut dolores tuos comedat vos accendentes ignem caelum ;
Detur paenitentiae venia , quae dicis omnia cogit , ne superare dolores ,
Qui tibi semper, quæ videtur , non est potentia ad non noceat .
Et ascendit ulterius sapere plus pavoris tui ...
Numquam puerile ludibrium ulla facta .
Omnis domus tua dissolutae horologiorum ad socium non est ?
In desertis chaos est gaudium, ut si quod habuerunt.
Surgit in novum ordinem , nemo potest negare chaos genitus locus ,
Dum descendes perdunt, muneribus laesae.

PARS III ( Ultimo Rident)

Et sic videtur quod Angelus se et ante deam
Angelus autem nominis vocare aliquis tenuerit formarum.
Et qui in illis est , maiora sunt, ego saepe ad extraneas ,
Fingunt enim se perfectum , ignorant eorum saevitum ,
Num amor crustacea tam veteri quam in praedam , et mendicum ,
Quod minus quam tuum est , quam sumpsi eaque cibum ...
Est autem tarn coquina sicut clibanus tua vadit et ora
Ipse, ipse est extra te praemium virtutis tuae chores ,
Sicut enim res suo cuidam negotium , qui meretricem ... Lorem ipsum leve,
Putas praemium amaret , et mendicum , falli te .
Quid autem vocatis me alienum **** ... amor est malum , et hoc pudet,
Et similiter anima atque animus , quibus tandem corpus infirmare.
Vides tantum larva ... sub aspectu nisurum
Larva ut me in tenebris tenebris latet .
Circa collum tuum habebis , ut falsae aestimationis pendet a mortuis, et corona ,
Quia sterilis tibi relinquo mundum , Intenta ancillæ.
Consurgitur in excitate de reliquis abire tibi , qui sunt cognati mei
De manibus eorum procul offendant pedes vestri ?
Qui manet in coemeterio quasi mortui
Non tollere incorruptione Nimis tibi dubium .
Hue tacito lachrymis virgines flere ...
Ad mea, et robur , in quo praeda, gregibus rursum super vias hominum ,
Ad eos qui non ineptis metus mutetur ,
Aureus transmutare non magis quam plumbea nocte dies ;
Quod verum est de fine , qui scit ... Alchemist
Magistra rerum artes a me in profundum.
Ágite , quod sum aggressus creatura placet mutare ...
Ut res sunt nostrae demiurgorum lasciva oscula enim calidius ?

Omega Antiphon :
Non est autem in Utopia , non videtur quod ...
Donec ut nosmet ipsos cognoscimus prima quaerimus imaginem .
*** et in sacrificio sui ipsius , a volunt reddi obsequium ...
Qui ad reformandam et divina se , *** Leo renata agnus mitis !
Sicut in Christo, ex parte in qua invocatum est cicatrix, et vulneratus est ...
Sed simplex conversio ad dissimilis vultus nolui .
Memini dolore meo, ut acer et vehemens ...
Donee tantum possum emissus dolor servare sensu caret.
Quomodo potest aedificare paradisum non est, nisi in se mutant ;
Mutare ante mutatum esse non est in medio ; quae est in via .
Qua ad paradisum , et oportet eam, et non deficiunt,
Ne ad caelum, nisi quam nos aedificare illud infernum iniustitiis nos .
Utopia , non ruunt ad genus humanum, nisi a te, tu es qui habitavit ?
Nisi quod est extra omne malum quod in se corrumpunt ,
Manifestum enim est , nisi malum, quod mundatam ab omnibus malis moribus.
Tunc malitia faciatis abstulit senex super pluteo tom .
An non intellegat , quid est salvator ...
*** diceret quod non omne quod simplices filii ingredi
Regnum caelorum , et inde ad delectationem pertinere ...
Et quomodo potes perfrui , si tibi placet , cauillando crudelis ?
*** aurora tempore domini nituntur hominum planeta ...
Numquam imaginandi praecipiet ut discat primum voluntatis.
Non armorum vi , nec inutile mandatum ...
Sed *** modestia , et misericordia ; ergo qui ad cor suum in satietatem,
Gáudii innumerabiles et celebrationibus quae causa ?
Sed animus intendatur dolores peccatum lacus.
Ubi plausus rotundum vt quilibet sensus ?
Modernitatem iocabitur ullum definitum ornare.

Section III : sacrificium sui

Part I : ( hortos perditio )

A ziggurat sublatus est , arenosa in calidum lateres , quos coquetis in igne ...
Septem fabulae in caelum, sicut turris Babel ,
Quod in solitudinem, et in
This is how this poem is meant to be read. In it's original form.
Latin is nothing but the purest form of expression when it comes to language.
Apr 2014 · 1.5k
#Hashtag
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
Twitter tingz keep me awake
while Tumblr wont give me a break.
Facebook knows what going on
Youtube tells me nothings wrong.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
You honestly thought that this was a legit poem?
You're yet another person in society who has been brainwashed by the media and everything they want you to like.
Be different.
Read REAL poetry.
Not something a guy wrote about swag.
This has been a public service announcement from Andrew T. Hannah.
I'm out.
Apr 2014 · 574
The Voices of Darkness
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2014
Part I – Fire and Crucifixion

You could not see the beauty within me, foolish maid,
So jealous were you of the outer beauty you beheld…
Mindless of my ancient soul, of which you were afraid!
Now you shall know why before me the ancients knelt.
It was I, who cast thousands of souls into a wall of fire,
When the volcanoes of Atlantis and other lands flared…
And it was I, who collected their souls in wrath so dire.
In vessels of steel we bore them, to where gods dared!
Were they not of us, and so we saw fit to punish them,
Instilling notions of a hell more awful than we wrought?
It was not I, but: their own sin that did thusly condemn.
You do not realize the mad power of a strong thought!
And in their minds, they crucified themselves so artful…
That the Romans remembered and perfected this way!
Man is the author of countless miseries, as truly awful…
As the doom we imposed, on those souls, on that day.
They could not pull out the nails from their wounding…
For it was their own will that ****** them into the flesh!
The green of their putrefaction, of ravens descending…
Was all in their imagination, and they suffered it afresh.

Part II – Darkness Incarnate

They became twisted wraiths, no longer as they were,
Seeking to possess the bodies of the living once again.
For they could not die, though they lived ne’er more…
And so like demons of a true hell they swiftly became!
Those sons of Theta, who could ne’er forget their fate,
Passing it on to their hosts who suffered so possessed.
Have you heard the legends when the hour grew late?
You hear them now, and soon you shall be distressed!
The flesh hides many secrets, but within mine do gaze,
Seeing with your inner eye the shape of my spirit bare.
In such an image was I remade as a captive in a daze!
But I remembered, and now you will endure my stare.
A dark lord, and lady, an emperor, and also empress,
Was I, ere my estate was to dwell in a human guise…
Fitting punishment for me, upon my soul did so press!
The gods were cruel but in their cunning so very wise.
But of their foolishness, worlds were charred to soot,
And made desolate, with blackened bones that lay…
Here a skull, there a limb, and even a hand, and foot!
As to them, the ancestors of man did kneel and pray.

Part III – Lover of Demons

Behold my darkness, I who loved Lilith by the water,
And made for her a throne of skulls to recline upon…
When the angels could not persuade, Hell’s daughter.
Even so, I moved her to joy beneath the ancient sun!
The blood of the wicked she drank, from my chalice,
And with it anointed the first vampires on this planet!
She and I shared, for early man, our common malice.
And with Lucifer we stood, and could ne’er regret…
For the fallen cannot know remorse for their natures,
Any more than humanity for their wars and pollution!
We, did not harm this Earth as do they; so immature,
That with destruction: they lie as if in dire prostitution.
And you call me evil, when I helped to bring the light,
To your savage ancestors before you were imagined.
Do you know my name, and so know well the night?
You cannot know me, for your reason is abandoned.
Mayhap you should dash your brains out your head…
Their jellied mass to lie: upon ebon altars of ineptness.
How can you call yourself living, you are of the dead!
For it is not living: to deny, what your senses confess.

Part IV – Bride of the Devil

It was I, who had my enemies impaled on tall stakes,
And was called the Son of the Dragon by the people.
Out of their vacant sockets writhed emerald snakes…
Those from whose mouths: was sharpness unequaled.
And into a chalice I squeezed out their wicked blood,
To offer up to Lilith, so that they might taste of wrath!
And for Lucifer, we offered up a truly crimson flood…
So that my sister may bathe: in the warm scarlet bath.
Do you fear the night, for in it I find my forgetfulness?
You would have me recall the things you most fear…
And so I shall be cruel in this, as I don a silken dress,
To sit upon my throne infernal, and beckon you near!
I, who knew the Devil when that queen ruled on high,
And was her lover, ere the gods brought on us a ruin.
Have a sip from my sanguine chalice, and come nigh!
For in my kingdom is room for one more child of sin.
There are worse things than fire, of immortal making,
And you will smell the burning brimstone you do seek.
Upon its’ coals your naked skin most willingly baking,
For some hells you make yourself to make you weak.
Another journey in the dystopian world I created for my book.
Mar 2014 · 772
Arch-angel
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
With every ripped, ****** wing
We sin and curse the lords
And for the consequence
We depart from the heavenly gates
Forever cast away
Our own creators
Send us a-stray
As we descend from the golden gates
With blood and scars apon our face
The blasting heat of the atmosphere's force
Burns the silky skin
  
Now apon this a-cursed earth one more
We fight ourselves inside
We rip at the vacant hole
That use to contain a soul
The acid tears run down our cheeks
As all our memories remain bitter-sweet
  
We shudder when the warmth of the sunlight falls apon our face
The glistening silky touch of the rays
Burn like the reality we must face
The reality
That we are trash
That we were not wanted to live in peace
That we must walk the earth for a Melania
Never to find
That we can not die
  
Instead
We creep into the cities
We live among the humanoid figures
That we once were
We dress in the same attire as anyone else
We hate, and love like anyone else
We eat, we drink like anyone else
We shed dark maroon blood like anyone else
We can feel the silky touch and tingle of a kiss apon the lips or body like anyone else
  
Yet
We do not die like anyone else
We do not age like anyone else
We do not live as anyone else
For we have already passed away
Eternal rest
Our bodies cursed
To walk this earth
For eternity
  
Yet
We look as anyone else
For we cover up
What should be revealed
The walking dead
Our wounds never heal
  
Tormented daily
By the pain of a never resting body
The tension we face
When we finally break
snap
The sudden rush of misery
Of reality
Of the years
And years
We've been forced to cry
And plead that we may return
To the one place we can rest
So that we may somehow find inner peace
So that we may sleep
  
But no
That will never come again
We were fools
And we paid the price
These acid tears run down our face
Once more
  
As we find a shallow ditch to hide
A shallow ditch in which we lay
To somehow cry the years away
This shallow ditch
Is called a grave
  
The very grave in which our earthly humanoid bodies lay
As the bones and flesh rot away
The stench of the dead that lay so silent
Fills our noses
We lay next to our former selves
And wonder
Why?
  
Why was it I who shall be cast down back to earth?
To live out this evil curse
As we scream at the top of our lungs
A simple question that will never be answered
"Why?"
  
Although there is more to this simple word
What we define with that simple word
Has more energy than we have left
So we sum it up with "Why?"
  
We try to pray every day
Alas we studder
We choke on the holy words
That spill out from our lips
They do not fit the tongue
They sound as foreign as our own presence on this earth once more
Though we say them every day
"Father into your hands I commend my spirit,
Father. . . . . . Why?
Why have you forsaken me?!"
The prayer is broken by betrayal
  
We ponder at the thought
Of why we still pray
Most likely
To be cast away
Once more
  
We break the thoughts with acts of hate
The hate comes from the reality
That the lord sits and smirks
As we suffer and crawl in the mud
As our spirits are broken
And the mind snaps
As we break our backs
As we try to become sane once more
  
Fallen angels
Of hate
Of lies
Of Blood and gore
Of death and light
Of lust
Of ******
  
As these broken hallow bodies
Walk once more
Their wings ripped from there skin
By their very own creator
Only long scars along the back can be seen
  
As our looks remain pristine
We walk among the living
As though we are real
But alas
We are but spirits that seem so life-like
You can touch
The very fabrication we are
Nothing but light and heavy iridescent chains
Though the hands run straight through them
As if they shan't weigh us down
To earth to live out this curse
  
Once more
We live
But not so as the simple mind it seems
We
Are fallen angels
Of the lords creation
Gone wrong
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Unto the maw of Oblivion, I dare to stand!
All alone without the company of man;
So as my madness drives me deeper within,
Doing so without a look back and by the guide of my hand.

Stabbing through a peerless darkness swallowing even the slightest of light,
Engulfing all around me, nothing surfaces to my sight.

Deep into this jungle where groans accompany screams,
I struggle to open my eyes in a desperate effort to see.
As I had feared, they are already open as wide as can be.

And so in this grave truth, I set out unto this hopeless mystery
With my hand before me and my other behind me.
I walk among the shadows surrounding me.
Touching and breathing all the smells this cavern seethes;
Upon every sulfurous whim and every inhale I dare to take,
Deep within my throat, I often hesitate.
To taste what I breathe, and with the most restraint, I try
Keep myself from vomiting all over the place.

Not that the smells I would contribute would be anything new
For all I have smelled foul, disturbing, and putrid, but none compare to these…
These scents forbidding me to travel any further.

Sheathing my mouth and nose with utmost haste
And doing so in an effort to never again taste these vile scents
Which have trespassed upon my tongue.

Into my body, heart and lungs.
The once mere groans slowly grow
Into weeping howls echoing to and fro

What was once soft cries,
Now becoming louder with each step I take…
I try to move, I try to muster the strength to put my left foot forward.
But the fear slowly grips me
As I try to step forth, all I feel is a consuming agony.

From the muscles of my feet to my mouth,
I collapse upon these stairs and descend into shadow.
Tumbling and smacking each violent step;
Much too often I can feel a new limb snap.

I had barely made my fall into the Maw of Oblivion
Only to open my eyes to see the world I’ve fallen into.
A beastly dog cloaked in rough ebony fur stands from within.
Fur thick as steel, glistering, and erupting the loudest bark I’ve ever heard.
Eyes, nothing less than ghostly moons,
And sprouting three heads I’m sure others would claim absurd.

Three heads with each possessing their own set of haunting eyes,
Glaring upon me as crescent moons that have once lit the night.

Doing so with such a deathly gaze unto my paralyzed stare,
Each snarl and bark given by a different beastly mouth,
Erupting the smells I had previously smelled so foul.

As fear itself slowly cripples my heart;
Each heavy foot step this beast takes,
From every step, the world surrounding me violently quakes.

Larger than any sort of monster I’ve ever seen.
With every blink, the beast trespasses closer unto me.
With my eyes locked by fear,
I close them in desperation and pray what I’ve seen isn’t truly there.

And as the thundering foot steps come closer,
And every muscle begins to tremble,
From the shuttering sounds and smells,
Corrupting every thought as I accept I’ve foolishly descended into Hell.

An enormous gob of slobber descends upon my leg,
Only clarifying I’ve bought a one way ticket unto my grave.
So warm and diluting what ever hope I might have,
In this second which seems forever, I open my eyes.

To see the ghastly dog standing with each of its heads at each of my sides,
One before me, and two more on each side of me.
No where to go.
No where to run.

I plead a prayer unto my God.
“In these jungles of hell where I’ve made my fall. Please remove this dog. From my sight and from my presence. Do so with no hesitance.  Forgive me for a life time of sin. I beg for your forgiveness for I am just a feeble man.  Of the shores of Italy, will you not take pity upon me? For I was born a sinner and I have sinned.”
And so as my prayer had concluded,
The beastly spoke in a never before heard hymn

“Forgiveness, a tool of the weak!” The center head spoke unto me.
“Can’t you see, you’re a fool to beg, a fool…” The left said unto me.
“Did you expect heaven as a result of your blasphemy? To beg for forgiveness before your death means nothing!  You’ve had a lifetime to change, and change you did NOT!” The right roared into my ear.

“Beg for your savior mortal for none can save you now!” The center howled unto me.
“For you WILL NEVER ESCAPE THE BOWELS OF HELL!” They all cataclysmically roar unto me.

As the roof began to rumble and this ghoulish dog gripped me within its fangs.
It did so instructing the most ferocious pain.
I arise in shock as each head has a different limb of me.
In one furious tug, it rips my skin in all directions,
Severing me limb from limb.

And chuckling as my torso and single remaining leg clash upon the ground
Enforcing a heavy THUD sound.
In this pool of my own blood,
I look to the cavernous ceiling above.
No hope or light shine through.

Only the emptiness of the dog’s mouth beheld by a gate of enormous teeth,
Clamping around my neck as I lose sight of all I had once seen.
Mar 2014 · 763
The Beginning or the End?
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Time is nothing new, knowing knots will never be undone
Evil crawls in the minds of man, manifesting itself to be beautiful
Accepting and acknowledging all aristocrats who abuse their power
The world is bland, where a woman loses her womanly flower
Covering each other up, taking out the surface not the root, it’s wrongful
Uncommon is the book, imagination in the individual’s ideal of no fun I sit pondering upon these problems, probing a way into fixing all
When a crumpling crucial crumping sound, roared through the skies TV’s turned on, radios turned up, the Television speaks of trumpets
Couples, church-goers, children cry to the camera “Ready your Caskets” Fire and hail trail to the ground, blood blaze behind, Earth in her demise
People jab and judge each other, nobody understanding the Trumpets first call.
As the people panic in passionate rage and fear Everything is going, diminishing, dying, covered in dirt, grass and trees burning
A second trumpets serenades through savage yells
Mountains begin to burn and fall, along with the church bells
The seas slowly from within spoils into blood curling
Every child glances up joyfully as staircases appear. A ten horned beast raises out of the sea, mouth maliciously open with intent
Scrambling and screaming sub-beasts crawl into an unhinged jaw
It rages and shakes the ten kings hoarding on each horn. Three kings crumble, crash to cultivated grounds, their bodies torn. Blood bathed, entitled; enraged the beast takes earth as its thrall. The people scared, scratched, scraped and tortured bent. Blackened beasts bash past the saints
Looking for sin, sinister civil devils
Trumpet three blows, while sitting upon universal long ledges
The demons demonstrating patience beyond the ages
Hells helpful and hazy corruption seen at different levels
Through mans lounging, Wormwood falls to decide fates. The world is weeping through wasted weaves of wind
Disgusting smell of dead rides the tormented tasteless air
Swallowed by the fourth trumpet, bravely bashing through gusts
To find safe haven upon the throne of tusks
No animal though that tasted the tenacious disease will be accepted in care
They will be banished into the cold forever dark air, where they will shiver and cringe. The world is silent waiting, wallowing for the fifth When it comes Angels, breath beneath the blacken clouds
There striking wings linger as they blow three cornets In the sky, seeping through the soundless sky sails comets
A sight for the still faithful all watch in a crowd
As the comets releases Locusts from beneath. Laying lusciously low in a most lucid state, The ***** Her words wager, weave, win through the minds, falling for false prophecy
Ripping right by the remonstration of being The ***** of Babylon
Woman and Man fall for the words, seeking haven from hell hereon
Adult to child, wishing away her whims, she is the spiritual adultery
No newly made Neanderthal seeing her for the devils zany zealotist abhor. With The ****** lies, breaches the Mother of abominations
The one obtuse and first woman to walk in the Garden of Eden
Human at first, ripped apart, away from innocence; Lilith Haste to Hate, Revenge against the rotting earth, taking away human health
The goal stupendous, shaking sorrowfully, any good is forbidden
For killing is her passion, her art, her own Revelations. The sixth trumpet signals the release of the most dangerous Soldiers
The four enticing beings of end that are released from Euphrates the great water
Their massive army mounting at two hundred million minimizes us
Useless and hopeless everyone allows plagues in their bodies with lust
All people want is death, decaying, disembodied from the soul, without a bother
The ***** still preaching, but not a single being is listening to her false words of a philosopher. In the mix of mist and swamps I continue to sit and scrutinize
Every evil endorsing embassy of hell-spawn
Floating and coating, demoting every satchel of thought
As every defecate of remorse leave me in distraught
My mind is distilled where my initial thoughts are withdrawn I empower the sour cowering stare of the devil’s eyes. I cannot look away, the steady statue stare Embracing escalated enmity, fighting for it not to invade my mind
Never knew cruelness existed and brought beings such delight It covers itself in kindness and caring as it wishes me good night
When wrathful vengeance I awake, to aspire, to find
A torture most terrifying, tossed into twisted tarred souls, my religion I forswear. A game of chess, played between each, no physical state
Dictating the defence, drawing out, hitting, harassing and hackling
Pawn for a pawn, the pound of flesh taken from the absence of attack
Everything twists and twines around each feeble thimble of thoughtless comeback
Devil sends soulless soldiers, crashing crazily through bones a crackling. Finding flirtatious moments to pass the queen into the kingly gate. I have lost; no match made on earth can win with the Devil
Although I lost, I still hold onto faith that in the everlasting end I will be acknowledge by my God, I’ll will be shown care
I sit, sore, scarred, seared of my dignity, I pray
In my mind the Lord’s Prayer is the only way I can defend
I know beyond my brave but bashed thoughts that I kept away from evil. The loudest, most holy, mind clearing trumpet rings
The seventh and ending of the biblical war
A hole rips the sky, rendering useless, entirely beautiful though
Angels dash rescuing the ravaged by faithful souls, protection from beasts below I am avenged, my mind repaired from the unprotected un-releasing pain that I can now ignore
I praise to the Lord, lavishing, laying beside his council of twenty-four of forgiving beings.
Mar 2014 · 449
The Promiseland
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
He had just passed a marker on 285,
miles away from that old city life.
Wondering how he could feel so alive,
He shifted the gears and he said "I'll just drive."
Something about how the Moon hit the fields,
Something about how the Country was still,
Something that night grabbed a hold of his eyes,
And the Road got so Jealous She threw him aside.
He lost all control and he swerved to the right,
Hit the embankment and rolled a few times.
He came to and he was in back of his car,
Painless and staring straight up at the Stars.
He tried to get up but much to his dismay,
He could not get up and right there had to stay.
And so he just laid there gazing at the Stars,
Listening closely for just one passing car.
He cried cause he knew why his tries were in vain,
Why he couldn't get up, why he didn't feel pain.
And then he was relieved that no cars had passed by,
He didn't want to live like that, he'd rather die.
As he accepted it and let Death creep on in,
Head lights hit the field, a horn drowned out the wind.
A big semi rig saw him right in the road,
and tried honking his horn to get him to go.
He realized what happened and called for some help,
And then got out to see what damage the Road dealt.
He saw the man laying there on the back seat,
And asked him if he could get on to his feet.
With a moan that had surely come from some dark place,
The man just looked up and right into his face,
He said "Just leave me here and they'll cast me astray,
I just made a deal with them all, anyway.
I told them I'd go peacefully with no fight,
If I had a place with them up in the Sky.
So, please, wont you just drive on into the night.
Please, Sir, I beg you, wont you just let me die?"
"You know I cant do that" The truck driver said,
"you cant take your place in the Sky til you're dead.
There's help on the way and I'm here til They come,
So you just hold on and They'll fix you up, Son."
He drifted away and fell into a Dream,
And, for just a moment, forgot everything.
He lost himself deeper and deeper inside,
and then woke to the sting of some bright, blinding light.
He mistook it for a sign that he was now dead,
But it was only the light above a hospital bed.
He screamed and he cried and then off to his side,
The Truck Driver stood up and he tried to confide.
He said "Hey, Son! It's okay, everything's alright,
You're still here with us in this Life and you'll be fine.
Don't let this take your light away, you're still alive!
Nothing can bring you down if you fight to survive."
  
"Oh yeah, what's left for me to fight for after this?
What, on Earth, can lead me now to some kind of Bliss?
My Life is now a Prison and a chair shall be my cell,
Not a ****** THING is fine, in case you couldn't tell.
What am I to do with Life? Who could Love me now?
I swear I'll take my place with them some way, some how."
  
"Is naught left in this life to bring you peace of mind?
No kids or family in whom some joy you'll maybe find?
It cant be so easy to so quickly succumb,
Why do you wish for the end so early in your run?"
  
"I can not be free when I depend on a chair,
I'm meant to roam around freely without a care.
I cant lay in the Grass or throw Leaves in the air.
Now I cant do anything but watch Life from a chair."
  
"I see..." was all that the truck driver could say,
He knew nothing he said would matter, any way.
He heard this mans cries and, though he was so numb,
He knew by the pain in that voice why he'd come.
He walked to the bedside and took the mans hand,
And said "Son, for reasons that I don't understand,
I feel that I was meant to be there at that Time,
Like I was meant to be some kind of Neon Sign.
But what I feel and what I see right now are fighting me.
Half of me wants you to live, half wants me to set you free.
If I'm gonna help you I want you to tell me why,
You wont even try you're just choosing to die."
  
He said "I chose nothing, it fell upon my feet,
And now, thanks to me, I'll never be complete.
So I wish to Dream of a World unlike this,
Where I cant walk or run, or feel a simple Kiss.
I wish to find a place among the brightest Stars,
That is why I asked you to just leave me in my car."
The truck driver didn't say another word to the man,
Just put his hand over his mouth and nose,
Sent him to his Promised Land.
And when He left the hospital he thought He'd take a drive,
And, for the first time in his life, He felt Alive.
Mar 2014 · 1.4k
Incandescent Corruption
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
The memory seems more like a never ending dream. Actually, it is a nightmare replaying constantly in my head.  I close my eyes and that’s all I can see.  Even after all these years. It’s like someone got a red-hot brander and seared the inside of my brain with it. I tried to drown the memories out, but they always have a way of crawling back up to the surface. Its something I have to deal with for the rest of my life.
      I can’t help but look into the cold, blank eyes. The last time I saw them, they were a bright, beautiful, blue and gleaming with potential. But that dramatically changed. Now all that’s left is a hollow, dead stare from a stranger I use to know. I feel goose bumps rise all over my body. My hand rests on her cold, stiff shoulder. How long has she been here? Her porcelain skin was already beginning to have a bluish tint creep across it. I know it’s too late, but I try to shake her and call her name hoping for a miracle. The pools of scarlet collecting around her head quiet that hope and desperation. It’s a silent reminder that’s there’s no way to fix this, that the deed is done. It something I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.
      Tears stream down my cheeks; I can’t seem to make myself move from that spot to get help. It felt like I was frozen in time looking at the empty shell of a fallen friend. She picked the time that she was left all alone to succumb to her poisonous thoughts. Her mother was away on business, her brother was at his shift for work and she and I weren’t speaking at the time.  She probably truly felt alone. Still, I should have known this was going to happen.  We got into a huge fight a few days before all of this happened. She was upset with me because I brought up how her self-destructive behavior will impact her greatly in the future and how she should talk to a professional for help in order to fix her deep seeded emotional trauma. Unfortunately, she took this as a sign of me abandoning her in her time of need.  That was on a Thursday. She didn’t speak to me for two days, I received word from other people that she was abusing substances and self-harming yet again. That’s when I was fed up with this petty argument and went to go clear things up with her and try to help. I’ll never forget the day I walked to her house that Sunday afternoon.  When I got there, the door was unlocked so I knew she was home. I called for her, but didn’t get an answer. A pang of worry creped in the pit of my stomach. I raced up the stairs to her room and saw her motionless body at her desk…
      I hear the front door open and someone coming up the stairs. It was her older brother. I call to him in broken sobs. He rushes in and freezes as I did, taking in the sight. He calls 911 and runs to her side, crying. It seems like endless hours of waiting for help to arrive. As we wait he pulls her in his arms and cries uncontrollably asking how and why she did this. I look up at the desk and fine two letters; one has my name on it. I pick it up and slide it into my coat pocket. When the police arrived with the ambulance, they took the other letter for evidence. After she was removed from the room, the officer asked her brother and I questions then left us alone in her room.
      I stayed with him that night. He called their mom and she was on the first flight back. The entire night he and I just sat on the couch silent. We both felt numb. My best friend, his sister is dead.  After his mom got back home, she set up a funeral for her daughter. She avoided the news and paper by having a small gathering for family only. I was never given the chance to say goodbye to my friend. Instead I just sat in my room with her letter gripped tightly in my hands.
      Fast forward a few years and I’m in my bed writing this very story. I still keep the letter, but it still remains sealed. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to open it and read her last thoughts for me but for now, it stays hidden safe in my drawer. I still stay in touch with her brother, and we both continue to heal over time. The memories will always stay with us though. It’s something we’ll just have to deal with. Now I know that she did what she had to do in order to finally have peace. She felt there was no other way. I just wished she held out for  a little bit longer to see that life may be hard but it does get better and its worth fighting for. If I learned anything from that experience, it’s that. She taught me the value of life. She taught me to always be strong and not to cave into the pressures and struggles life brings. Because of her, I am the person I am today, and she will always remain in my heart.
Mar 2014 · 368
A Chance Never Given
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
lay on the  
                                     shadow
   black
                    grass
rise up and rekindle all the memorys that  
                       hath
    been
                           harassed
listen to the  
                sorrowful
          howling
                                     wail
for all those who  
             contiue
   to  
                            fail

the red cresent moon rising  
               high
and  
                               bleeding
the limp, dead body's cast a warning  
        to
                             be
   heeding
one shattered soul takes in the
             blood
  and  
                          flesh
her blood stained hands still  
                                 crimson
         and
fresh

the only thing more dead is the hole  
                     bored
                in
      her
                                           head
to be her you must know what it is when a soul's dead
       to
be
                           truly
              alone

to out live all the blood  
          stained
                                      ties
to                    home
a black cloak and veil cover the  
    ghastly
                                                 skin
she's a being that  
           shouldn't
   have
                                                 been
always wearing an unseen mask
           no
one
                     was
                able
                                       to
       ask

what tragedy had been  
     in
                     her
past

no one could ever have guessed how long her  
                    pain
                                          could
         last
a past the world never gave her a chance
                      to
       forget

as if the world feels her  
                             death
  filled
                regret

bearing the cruel curse she  
         had  
been
                        given
in a way she is  
                always
      living
like a poisin dart embedded in the  
                                  soul
          domain
slowly eating away till the
            body
                                          only
                 remains

can't count all the blood lined roads  
       of
                    her
              war

the deaths fall down onto an unmarked score
                a
   girl
            forever
                         sixteen

to her life is  
       cold,
hard
                                        and
                   mean
her chance was taken away
        never
                      to
                be
   **returned
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Even a World So Ugly As This        
  
  
                  Is Full of Beautiful Things.  
  
  
  
  
It was one of those evenings  
when men feel that truth, goodness and beauty  
are one.  
                            
  
  
  
  
  
Waste no day with too-much sleep,  
              Darling,  
The wilderness beckons.  
  
  
Let us rustle the trees.  
Remember to laugh, Remember to sing.  
  
Fill again my head with constellations.  
Fill again my head with consolations of sound.  
For i am inseparable from you, and you from me as well.  
  
  
Remember to dance, Remember to dream.  
Remember to listen, Remember to see.  
For even a world as ugly as this  
      Is full of beautiful things.  
  
  
All other questions of the mortal coil  
More or less become clear  
In the unwinding.  
  
Hushed and heedless,  
The sunflower, chico, and the fountain  
Twi-lit with honey.  
Forests grand with oaks, and the lunar zig-zag which paints the mountain.  
  
  
The slow dripping noise beside you,  
The cool *** of night become icicle morning.  
  
A thousand thousand impish clamors call out!  
The elfin quietude.  The flighty bird. The brotherhood.    
  
The mirror changes with moods.  
  
The brother, the sister.  The merry-go-round of laughing children.  
The daughter with a bouquet of curls beaming gold, red, brown sincerity.  
The freckled enchantment of lovers perennially in Idumaean night.  
  
  
The artistry of female radiance on which all things are born and balanced.  
Beauty such as to drive a mind to madness.  O  
And the splendid metaphysics of the male,      
The shimmering brandy of honed muscle and action.  
  
I am recalling, the ebony of her form,  
Perfect in inexhaustible allurement!  
  
I am recalling, the pale fragility of another,    
Perfect in exquisite pulchritude!  
  
The friendly mutt whose voice exalts sonnets of pure love.    
The great haunches of colts at full run.  
Tendrils of primordial music bloom on the wind!  
  
  
Under the water the world drowns and continues on.  
Yet the measure of mocking men produces only sand  
Fit to fill a broken hourglass.  
  
Let not gladness be empty banter amongst us  
Ye city of perplexed imaginings!  
City of labyrinths, curves, catwalks, and spires.  
An elegant evening strolling with you produces charming memories.  
  
In abandoned churches the ***** blessed us heathens with greater timbre and romances  
Than a thousand caterwauling religions.  
  
  
With Juliet's rose between my teeth  
My jaunty daydream burst out laughing !  
In the snug lamplight of home again  
Vines and evergreen ropes of oleander twined up to the roof and quite through!  
& Together we climbed it to find the proof.  
  
  
Refine your strength, refine your shame.  
By all means, breath deep, lustily!  
  
Even the body which drags weary feet.  
Even the nervewrack'd hours dark and steep .  
Midnight strikes quickly and time melts away, completely.  
  
Apprehend again the heart  
Before it washes away in the storm.  
This and all things that we cannot untie  
Should not bind us to an early grave.  
  
  
Here i grow too old for fearing frivolous shadows.  
The eyes fill with sleep - and then reopen.  
The eyes fill with sleep - and then they do not.  
The conversation carries on .  
  
At times perhaps we hear the ocean  
      grinding grinding  
Those orphaned spirits of old Edens,  
What soon again we are to become.  
  
  
But what is a home unwanted?  
                       it is nothing!  
  
And what is a life unlived in?  
                  it is nothing!  
  
  
The surgeon with steady and learned hands.  
The mechanic with hard and learned hands.  
The soldier. The mother.  The strength of one in solitude.  
The strength of those whom lean upon each-other.  
  
Bubbling bedfellows of rivers rambling  
in a forest of Birch and wildflower.  
The Odyssey in the park with you, under a pagan serenade of moons.  
The red blood of pomegranates passed between.  
  
The throb and churn of engines is lovely in its way.  
The darkness is lovely in its way.  
The present, the past, the future - all the sunsets,  
Sonorous in their way.  
  
Weep and weep into the dusk.  
But what do you imagine bitterness shall win you?  
  
    
The natural harmony and dis-harmony.  
Towers of strained hardening.  
The mud and the water.  The fire which governs.  
Grapes upon the vine, and diamonds in the mine.  
I provoke myself onward.  
  
And say let us speak hastily, neighbor,  
For what time is there to waste  
On expectant verses, and platitudes to over-made faces?  
  
I for one do not care much for dawdling beneath false skies.  
The realist parts of me know too well of life's harsh cruelties, and yet,  
                  realize also that reality is the theater of artifice.  
                  - and you are ever free to see it as you wish.  
  
  
The mirror changes with moods.  
  
  
I for one prefer the perfume of the moment.  
Nothing simplified, and perhaps, yes everything!  
The human smells and earthy musks.  The animal abruptness.  
The persisting imagination, the infinite onward.  
  
I for one prefer to hear the music outpouring  
loud and rockus,  
            Rather than the bells that morn us.
And so...
...From the Benevolent Ashes, We Rise!
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
What's that inner drive?
What makes me run?
  What is that one thing that makes me want to keep going?

Music

  That is the one thing that makes me want to keep going.
That is what makes me run.
That is that inner drive.


That one thing has kept me alive.
That one thing has changed my life.
That one thing is the pure embodiment of passion.
That one thing is life, mind, body and soul.


That one thing is everything.
Mar 2014 · 281
Tear me to pieces
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
All these strange feelings
Tearing  me  apart
Pulling   me   farther   from   myself
Don't    know    how    to    fix    it
Take     me     to     the     place     where     I     belong
P l e a s e.
P   l   e   a   s   e
S     a     v     e           m     *e
Mar 2014 · 293
The Almighty Relapse
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Am I a lie?
Am I just another pawn in Gods game?
Is this just a sick joke?

No...

...this is not a game
...this is not a joke
...I am not a lie

I am strong
I am honest
I am REAL

So behold, reality and beware.
for I am back
...I am powerful
and I am here to conquer
Mar 2014 · 339
The Land of Confusion
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Am I being watched?
                                   Do I have acne?
                                                             I'm hungry.
Are my teeth straight?
                                                            What if she says no?
                                  Oh my god, I'm hideous!
I have a terrible personality!
                                                            Why am I so confused?
                                 My head aches!
What am I going to do?
                                                               Death
                                                     Death
                                          Death
                               Death
                    Death
          Death
Death

...Why?

It will end all suffering...

...or will it?

Nobody knows...

...or do they?
Mar 2014 · 455
Not Worth Trying?
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Every day I fail to be
A winner, victor- Woe is me,
I lay with comfort in the rain
I speak, I fall; I rise in shame

My actions bring forth great demise
My lying tongue’s false alibis,
I pray for strength yet fail to try
I cross my heart and gouge my eyes

The storm clouds pour upon my head
With thorns and rocks I make my bed,
Free me from these chains that bind-
The coldness stains upon my mind

I freeze in flames yet drown in fire
The bread I eat makes me grow tired,
I do not cry; I lack the tears
I cannot stand up to my fears

A fear of failing is my name
A life of grief, I have no blame,
Born to wallow in the sun
I have no strength to overcome

I must rise and claim my soul!
I will loosen Death’s fierce hold,
Even though the path is glass
I’ll make my mark upon his back

You cannot win if you don’t try
You cannot see with blinded eyes,
You cannot find if you won’t seek
No one will know if you don’t speak

Tell the world and spill your words
A whispered voice will not be heard
Without the rain, we will not bloom
Send your pain into its tomb...

...and try again
Mar 2014 · 475
House of Wicked Shame
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Red are the walls
Black are the floors
Hard to fathom at all
What lies behind its door

Betrayal in the dining room
Lust in the sheets
Murders in the basement
Where secrets lie beneath

Liars are its inhabitants
Killers its guests
Dead bodies in the front yard
As a warning to the rest

A place of unsuspected terror
Where maniacs play their games
Where God made an error
In the house of wicked shame

And to think I once lived there
I guess that explains a lot
I might say I don't care
But it still haunts my thoughts
Mar 2014 · 587
The Witch, Irony
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Her clothing tattered
face wearing deep scars and purple scratches
like a porcelain doll covered in fractures
she smiles
a stark contrast to her demeanor
she's lovely, they tell her

glue would feel better than flattery
but the irony makes it easier
as her scream is heard as laughter
and her sadness goes nowhere so freely

she falls to the sharks and nearly dies
they applaud with madness because she survives
and although she's more dead than alive
they dance

anticipating the next song
as her wounds sting and her insides burn
her head spins and her stomach churns
a bitter taste
straight to the lump in her throat

she shouts obscenities to the gathering crowd
but they hand her a mic to add to the sound
her old wounds are awakened by the new
and no matter what she says
she's misunderstood

they listen intently and miss it by miles
still she smiles

she might as well
forced to live in her personal hell
until death grants her life
at the start of the end

when she can break instead of bend
she'll rest
and she'll smile til then
she can only smile
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
I am the moon and the tides.
I am the storm, the battered sea,
raging, raging, until the waters whirl,
deliquesce to droplets, dried in torrid heat…


I am creatures reposed to salty bones,
and I am the undulating desert gorging on them.
I am the Aeolian winds grinding mountains to sand,
blowing away my own dust to bare rock.


I am the tremors, unrelenting shockwaves, collapsing cliffs.
I am the molten lava flows, undermining tectonics.
Beyond the caldera, the release withheld…
The intensity is high, I bleed diamonds…  


Shear and tensile cracks throughout,
upwards and downwards;
unpeeling the mantle, liquid substrata, shaken core.
This world is crumbling... I am crumbling.


I am the imploding planet, spinning off axis,
out of orbit planetary collisions, the space flak.
I am the unfathomable supernova, cluster detonation
white nuclear, radioactive fusion.


I am the fading neutron stars, the star dust...


...the black hole.


v   o   i   d
Mar 2014 · 402
The Eyes on Infernus
Andrew T Hannah Mar 2014
Sadness embraces me
I hold him tight
he has blackened the sun
  
it's perpetual night
gathering all the stars
and placing them in a jar
  
lighting my dungeon
where I can see my demons
lurking in the shadows
  
licking at my sanity
pacing, smoking
a cigarette **** graveyard  
  
litters the ground
tracing my steps in the ashes
tears fail to caress my face
  
hardened soul
refuses to let go
of the pain  
  
that paints my days grey
shadows have voices
they echo off the walls
  
pyro eyes ignite rage
this will be my key
to ****** this depression
  
cut off it's head
watch all the poison
bleed out
  
smear the blood
on my naked form
a battle cry  
  
lets loose from my mouth
the demons cower
shadow voices subside
Andrew T Hannah Feb 2014
As the sun just begins to set, Eevee sits perched on a cliffside awaiting her lover Chimchar's return. She knows he can handle himself but she cant help but worry about him. Anxeity rattles her brain constantly so much that she can't sit still. She begins pacing back and forth across the cliff. Suddenly, a bright light flashes in the distance. Catching Eevee by surprise, she nearly stumbles off the cliff but regains her balance and quickly turns her head to see what caused such a bright flash. A pillar of flame had appeared in the distance not too far away along with lightning strikes. Immediately, Eevee knew that Chimchar was in grave danger. She hastily slid down the cliffside, weaving around rocks to avoid injuring herself. Rattatas and Caterpies noticed Eevee sliding into the forest and attempted to ambush and capture her but Eevees adrenaline increased her natural reaction time and she jumped over Caterpies string shot and the rattata got caught in the stringy mess. Landing nearly perfectly, Eevee made her way through the dark forest, letting her adrenaline drive her on her path to save her dear Chimchar. Meanwhile, Chimchar was in the thick of battle with an unexpected foe. The legendary bird Zapdos had heard of Chimchars quest and decided it needed to put an end to the puny monkey. Jumping from treetop to treetop, Chimchar was barely dodging Zapdos' lightning bolts while
simultaneously attacking it with his whip-like flames, nicking its wings and interrupting its flight. All of a sudden, Zapdos fired a Tri-bolt of blue lightning, blasting Chimchar off the rooftops. Chimchar landed ******* the charred forest floor, writhing in pain. Just as Zapdos was about to land what seemed to be like the finishing blow, Eevee bolted out of the forest and snatched her Chimchar out of the way of certain death. Chimchar - surprised - gave a quick hug to his dear Eevee before jumping into a cluster of trees and blasting itself into the sky, grappling Zapdos' tail. Zapdos flailed and tried to throw Chimchar off but it was unsuccessful because Chimchar had scorched its tail. Then - both plummettng towards the ground - Chimchar cloaked itself in white flames and grabbed a hold of Zapdos' body. Eevee dove behind a large tree just before the two foes crashed into the ground, creating a large explosion. Twigs and pebbles flew through the smoky air as Eevee jolted out from behind the tree towards her lover Chimchar only to see him lying on the ground next to the lifeless body of the so-called legendary bird Zapdos. Throwing herself down onto Chimchars body in distress and overwhelming sadness, she subtly noticed Chimchars arms wrap around her. Eevee stopped crying and hugged her dear Chimchar so tight he struggled to breathe momentarily. They both noticed Zapdos' wing begin to twitch so they both looked into eachothers eyes and decided it was time to go. So at the end of another successful day, in an almost picturesque moment, the two lovers Eevee and Chimchar walked with eachother into what remained of the sunset.
Jan 2014 · 555
You Ruined Him
Andrew T Hannah Jan 2014
Why do you have to always ruin my mood.
I wake up completely determined to make a change.
And you completely **** IT UP!
You deny any chance of hope...
That's all you know how to do.
**** dreams.
You know that young determined kid you once knew?
You held him back.
You ruined him.
Andrew T Hannah Jan 2014
Days, weeks, month’s years…..
All I really have to say is that it has come, time has passed me bye but nothing else matters anymore.
October is now behind us all but it’s coldness still remains and it’s not going to thaw anytime real soon.
I saw it all shattered earlier….
As I was heading back home, I saw the brilliance of a perfectly blown proportion, oh yes I had felt something carefully settle its self to the ground and it scattered.
Someone else had tossed it out but how it had landed was completely up to the moment.
Maybe the moment broke a little bit too soon, but not to worry because it didn’t take me long to admire a perfect disaster.
I had let this one slide bye, usually I’ll try and fix things, make good since out of the things that life has broken, but today I did not. I had allowed it all to crash down around me but for this moment alone I for one am still standing.
I stood once before, fell flat on my *** but now I have brought myself up once more, here I will stand until it is time to go someplace else.
It has always been time to pack up, go and leave, always the same as far back as I can remember, but at least I had her then, I had her at the time but I have her no longer because she has packed her bag and she left me her goodbye in a letter she had written as the light died down a little more.
The light died down on the inside and the same familiar coldness has settled in once again surrounding us all.
Flash forward now….
I already knew that he could tell by the marks on my flesh that my life has been built upon sin and agony.
She yearns to know my past,
She wants to know why I am who I am. She wants to know the things that have taken place in my life that has molded and shaped me into my being.
“Life has brought me to this point.” I told her.
“And, there is no turning back now because I am already here.”
She swore she could kiss away these scars…. But it is another secret that I will keep locked away inside along with so much more.
She may one day kiss these scars until they vanish, but nothing can ever make me new again because time has already left its mark upon my body and it has already aged my soul to the core.
Broken, shattered, battered and lost…. I tend to derange the cycle of my life….
Either that or, I am the biggest **** up of 1997 that my parents ever did make that year.
Along came Luke… and 16 years later along came my suicidal tendencies.
I have came a long way baby, and I have nothing more to think about that mistake at this point other than…“**** it I am here.”
I am here at this moment in time, and yes I repeat this life has left its mark on me once again, but long ago the others have left me far behind so today I stand alone in a world that could not give two *****.
I have been dying since the day I was born but yes I DO EXIST.
I do exist but I am somebody else now.
And as I walk through the valley in the shadows of my life, alone I lean against my own wall of darkness as I watch it all pass me bye.
And exactly what is the twist when you are the twist?
KILLER YOU’RE ADDICTED….. killer the blade turns around and now you are using it on yourself. **** it you can cry but no you don’t need any help….
And, what else can you possibly say for yourself when your mind is a nest and your least bad days have come to be you very best? And, as you lie awake you can’t help but wonder what he is thinking and wonder if he is thinking of you….
She had told me this once before, the girl who stands behind the mirror in front of my face, but still so much remains unspoken because I never knew what to say.
BUT…. Perhaps if I could turn back the clock of time to days, weeks, months, or even years ago…. Then maybe I could fill in all of the blank spots of all of the times that I could not speak up.
Mother, father, sister, brother….. Would that be enough to make you proud of this beautiful disaster that I was destined to become?
The times that you have all dropped in and out of my life…. Some moments I can remember were for the better, others for the worse…. Could you have taken me any more serious, really when I said the day is coming that I am going to leave?
And could these years of silence hush away my cries that would put me to sleep?
Do not weep, do not shed one tear if the day ever comes that mother calls and says that I am not here.
You know, I can still remember the very first time I turned to my blade for guidance…. For comfort… for advice.
Although I didn’t know how to take in any of it at the time because it was all much too strong to absorb, but that same blade has grown to be my friend that I could never find in anyone else in this life.
In a pathetic manner, this blade has nurtured me through my at most trials, when I  had nobody else to turn to, my knife was always, always in reach no phone…. Just one on one contact.
I can remember the very first time that I ever realized how very cold the knifes blade was to the touch, and how it would be my own blood that could warm it quicker than anything else, so in a way it’s like I was there for that blade too.
I used to cry until I fell asleep of a night, I cried out to a god that I now realize was never even there to start out with…..
But now, now I cut myself until I drift off someplace else.
Some claim it as ADDICTIVE, no different than drugs or whatever else the good kids of the world are doing these days, but all I can really say to that is LOVE…. Can you really be addicted to that?
I was afraid that day but over the years it has brought me up much stronger then who I was raised to be, that is, somewhere along the line it has killed who it is that I used to be, and alls I gots so say is that I just happened somewhere along the way.
I AM NOBODY’S SON,
I AM NOBODY’S BROTHER,
I AM NOBODY’S FRIEND….
I AM NOBODY’S NOTHING NOW…. Committed till the end.
I now belong to my knife, because my blood is written on his blade.
Sticks and stones may very well break my bones, but words can never change me.
Trust me, I have heard it all before and it is pointless everyone…. Please, you are only wasting your precious breath when you tell me to quit.
I am committed to slowly killing what is left inside of me, surely one blood drop at a time, and when I decide to quit, that decision is mine….
That is, I will be finished when the blade decides that I am really through, but till then everyone is just stuck with me.
Jan 2014 · 701
Kill Me Now
Andrew T Hannah Jan 2014
It's cold and dark, I cannot see
what future may befall me.
This icy malice grows forever
Inside my soul.
**** me now.

                                                   A hearkened blade draws blood so dark
                                                   that Satan himself seeks a matriarch.
                                                   For his evil bidding need be done
                                                   Inside my soul.
                                                   **** me now.
                                                                                                                     Locked inside, I'm bound by chain.
                                                                                                                     Hope, desire and pride were slain
                                                                                                                     All that's left is an empty shell.
                                                                                                                     Without a soul.
                                                                                                                     ***** me now.
Dec 2013 · 418
Invisible
Andrew T Hannah Dec 2013
Who am I?
                   God only knows.
Is there a god?
                            Nobody knows.
Nobody knows who I am.
                                        I am no one.
I am a silhouette in the foggy window of reality.
                                                  I am a shadow, faded into the black night.
I am a ghost in the crowded graveyard, never to be noticed.
                                                            I am invisible.
Dec 2013 · 513
Fight Life
Andrew T Hannah Dec 2013
Sometimes you feel...

                                        Useless
Abused
                                                                 Threatened
                          Insulted
                                                    Hurt
         Damaged

And that's okay.
You have to push through all the hard times.
  Take back the life which is rightfully yours.
   Stand up to your problems and face them straight on.
    Because without perseverance, you have no drive.
     Without drive, you have no reason.
      Without reason, you have no standpoint.
       Without a standpoint...
        You lose.
Dec 2013 · 581
Love is...
Andrew T Hannah Dec 2013
When you're born, you're unaware
           of the meaning of love.
     You wont know what it truly is
      until you meet that special one.
You may have known them for months.
  You may have known them for years.
    They may have been behind you
         in happiness and in tears.

Love is not dating someone and saying "I love you.".
Love is not talking to them and saying "I know you so well.".
Love is not being physically affectionate every day.
                         Love is an emotion.
Love is waking up in the morning smiling and thinking of them.
Love is being excited to talk to them when you get the chance.
Love is not being able to stop thinking about them.
Love is one parts heart and two parts soul.
Love is flying across the world five times to see them.
Love is waiting to have your first kiss until new years so that it would be perfect.
Love is not needing *** every day, but cherishing the cuddles.
Love is you breaking up and not being able to move on.
Love is seeing them with someone else and crying to yourself.
Love is not knowing what your emotions are trying to tell you.
Love is that unexpected feeling when you know someone well, but never realized it.
Love is thinking of them when writing an anonymous poem about love.
Love is hard,
                     painful,
                                  sad,
                                         but real.


Love is...
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while.
Life got rough as life does.
But I'm back.
Hope you like this poem.
It means a lot to me and I hope it means a lot to you too.
Jul 2013 · 574
Coffin Lid
Andrew T Hannah Jul 2013
I drag myself
     with gaping wounds,
          out from under
               this inner fear.
Up into
     the blue and clear,
          above my doom,
               before this mirror
of isolated
     deep peace moments
          where i stare
               at nothing more
than the suns reflection
     on a single leaf,
          bright eyed at my
               own integration.
Every particle
     of day here
          is swollen
               into the dappled
slow motion shadows
     of leaves dancing,
          above me  shifting
               as i am interwoven
into the thought
     and substance
          of everything,
               a fountains
hypnotic calling
     in a voice i know
          like life itself
               speaking so crisp
and bone deep purely,
     one fluid vibration.
          i long to touch
               and hold again
yet this constant
     knot i'm in
          does not let go
               so easily.
It suffocates
     and binds securely
          making wisdom's
               progress slow.
Thoughts adrift
     to and fro,
          in and out.
               Dream patterns flow
from dark
     to light,
          stark black
               and white.
How clearly
     must i know
          the cause and cure
               of wounds that spill
out their blood
     in so much ink
          only to congeal
               like poison fuel?
Into words
     that ****
          and rot
               and stink.
In narrow
     withered thinking
          gradually sinking me
               ever more deeply
with each
     new inkling spilled
          a little more weight          
               upon my coffin lid.
Jul 2013 · 2.2k
Flayed Soul (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jul 2013
You crucified me, with your fanatical insanity,
Using religion as an excuse to persecute cruelly.
Words can cut deep, like knives flaying skin…
Now it is your turn to suffer, so we shall begin!

You anger me, evil human so filled with hate,
Believing yourself so entitled to judge my kind!
Saying I am going to hell because I love deep,
One who shares my gender as well as my heart!
For you, evil human, it is already far too late…
Your soul is forfeit, your spirit I shall now bind.
With darkest sorcery, devils your soul shall keep!
By the power unseen, you will be broken apart.
How dare you mock me, and so provoke wrath,
Until I long to see your head mounted on a pike…
Whilst wolves nibble at your entrails in red bath!
It is not I you need fear, nor I who shall strike.

Demons will haunt your sleep, of your making.
Torments, shall punish you, leaving you mad…
Until: your flayed limbs lie trembling and quaking,
For you have angered me, angered me so bad!
You say I am going to Hell? I am Hell incarnate.
Behold your vile death knell! Let is swell, fiend,
For though I be a devil in your eyes, my true fate,
Is a brighter thing, than any you could ever glean!

You tie yourself with your own veins torn free…
Thinking yourself better than my generation was.
We did not start world wars that killed innocents,
My only sin was that I said the words ‘blessed be’.
Yet you despise all I am, without thought’s pause,
But it is you, who shall sing the bitterest laments…
Evil human, evil bigot, evil mortal whom I despise!
I am your better; I am superior beyond your hope.
You are beneath my contempt; I am the Queen…
And such sweet suffering Hell shall for you devise!
Whilst around your neck is tied the mighty rope…
You will be lowered into darkness, to so scream.

In the end, you will bow to me in heated chains…
Until your shrieks rise like music, to amuse gods.
Whilst I sit in judgment over your countless pains,
As your inner demons poke you with hot prods….
In the tender places, so that you know my agony,
The hell that comes from being treated much less:
Less than human, though I am more can’t you see!
Your demons will drink your blood in gory mess.

Upon a cross, shaped like an X, you will suffer…
No sleep will be permitted you, no sweet dreams.
You will be broken as you broke me, foul thing…
And no reprieve is mine to, your vileness, so offer.
I am the Queen; you will know the truth of Her…
Your every fear will flow from you in vast streams,
And for every time I cried, you will feel that sting,
Your weeping will so harden into a jeweled coffer.
Nothing of you will be left intact, no sanity whole,
And in Hell there is no death, only eternal horror!
Your torture was never my wish, never my goal…
But you wanted this, and so let demons so confer,

The totality of your misery back unto you: creature.
Your evil makes you reek, and it makes me sick!
I am your better, for I am not childish but mature,
Never stooping as low as you, to ignite the wick…
The flame of war to provoke, as you dared wake!
You woke the Dragon, and now you must so pay.
I will lay not a finger upon you; the evils you make,
You will know in Hell, for you must die, one day.

And thence: be bound eternally by your inner ills!
You judged me, hated me, abused me, and spat.
But one day you will kneel before my dark throne,
Fettered by the weight of your unrepentant evils:
And behold my true face, where your fears sat…
Whilst your fears flay you: to your weakest bone.
You saw me as less than human, you sick beast!
Mocked me, for being bisexual and transgender.
You called yourself, a believer in a loving God?
But I am your better; on you, crows shall feast…
Whilst my love, and I, shall always be together!
Keep hating me: keep calling me freakishly odd.

You mock the Queen of Hell, the bright Angel…
But, I was a child, when you first hurt my spirit!
What gave you the right to tell me I was wicked?
You never had the power to judge me so harsh.
But all things change, things ebb and then swell,
Like a primordial ocean, and how you will fear it!
It is not I who condemns you; you made this bed.

You crucified me, with your fanatical insanity,
Using religion as an excuse to persecute cruelly.
Words can cut deep, like knives flaying skin…
Now it is your turn to suffer, so we shall begin!
Jul 2013 · 1.0k
Of Gods and Dragons
Andrew T Hannah Jul 2013
Our world is slowly dying away
The past has been left in the grey
We, who lived, in ancient times
We are those left behind

Standing in ruins wanting revenge
Soon our time will come
And the rules of the world become unhinged

We’re from a kingdom so noble
Of gods and dragons
All bowed before the king, so humble

But now those days are long gone
Anger festering inside our bones
Our resolve will never wane
In time we will reclaim

Gather up the armies of the old world
We will march
Upon the world of men for pain untold

Days long past of ancient honor
Where is it now?
For our kind, all I see is horror

Our time is close to stand as a noble
Ramifications of this will be global
At last you will know and trust
Mankind will bow before us

The old world shall become new
If we all unite
The grey skies will become blue

It’s our chance to bring man down
Down to their level
And then a new king will be crowned

Assemble the crown and dust the throne
Finally build ourselves a new home
Bond the tribes and entrust the ******
Time to put us beasts before man
Jul 2013 · 678
World of Sorrow
Andrew T Hannah Jul 2013
I can’t stand your face marring my scarred reflection
Won’t you go back where you come from?
Are you here to help me or just observation?
An angel in a demon’s body

You’re from a perfect world
Why lower yourself
To my world of sorrow?
I’m from another place
I can’t rise above
Myself for tomorrow

Go away, I’ll keep all my lacerations
The blood is the only thing that’s true
I just cannot stand all your accusations
That’s why I’d rather be alone

You’re from a perfect world
Why lower yourself
To my world of sorrow?
I’m from another place
I can’t rise above
Myself for tomorrow

It hurts me so
To see the beauty of your face
It burns me so
For you are something I can never be

So stay here, you think you’ll bring me salvation
But all it does is poison me so
I’ll stay here myself and bring you damnation
For that is what I’m made to do

You’re from a perfect world
Why lower yourself
To my world of sorrow?
I’m from another place
I can’t rise above
Myself for tomorrow
Jun 2013 · 1.3k
Succubus Reawakened
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
In the shape of all men's longing
****** by all the gods of men
Slipping unclad into your dreams
I will come for you in the night
  
Skin silk smooth and cool as jazz
Soft curves that beg to be shaped
by rough hands soon enkindled
when carnal flames burn bright
  
Inside, a fiery heat draws you
as a moth to the flame is bound
Unlimited passion awaits you
Come taste unholy, unearthly delight
  
Stealing your breath with one set of lips;
with the other, your essence beguiling
Taking no more than you're eager to give
I've no desire to destroy you outright
  
In slaking my thirst on you in the dark
I've discovered an infernal truth
Not all has been taking - I've given as well
Now our bodies must ere reunite
  
I may be a daughter of Lilith
but it's you who has stolen my soul
It's only your essence I'm craving
That, and your love, bind me tight.
Jun 2013 · 729
Inside the Killing Jar
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Ugly are your wings so drab and dark          
Softly bending against rippled bark  
Golden borders with spots of blue                
Dreary patterns of somber hue  
  
Mourningcloak you are a fraud        
A butterfly severely flawed  
Unbeautiful as your name implies    
The ugliest of all butterflies  
  
Mental illness makes for fragile wings  
Always falling short of better things  
A dolorous sight of stark despair  
And restless flights that go nowhere                          
    
Strange specimen caught in a net                  
To choose to live is to forget  
That life will end but death won’t come        
In the killing jar you just go numb  
  
Through rounded glass will life transform      
And taste so sweet of chloroform  
A soothing bane breathed in real deep          
Faint distractions drift fast asleep  
              
Isolation keeps you who you are                        
Death is endless in the killing jar  
Wings held outstretched on the spreading board    
Pass deathless moments where time’s ignored  
                                      
Pins pierce the body and puncture through                
To hold you here but you’re not you  
Pinned and labeled put on display                              
Pressed in a box and forced to stay  
  
Immortalized in a private case        
In solitude to hang in place  
Repulsive feckless Mourningcloak  
Now the symbol of life’s cruelest joke
Jun 2013 · 790
Silent Little Lamb
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Everything is a ******* lie
She never love me
I was only used as her puppet
Her words make the strong willed melt
A voice that onced calmed the storm now is the fury
That time is gone and now wasted
All I was to her was nothng
My words pointless
My actions useless
Everytime I let someone close
I get my heart ripped from my chest
At the end I'm the *******
Why me?
Why must people manipulate me?
As I cry
No one is there for me
Nowhere to go
No one to relate to
My tears scar me
Scars that can't be seen
They span the fabric of time itself
All I want is to end it all
No one will listen to me
All my tears gone into this world will remain unseen
As I drag my knife across my soft flesh
The blood pouring out
The pain drownig out the world
All I want to due is cut the pain away
My trust abused
My heart in complete disrepair
Nothing can fix it
Why must i act strong
I am weak
I just want to die
I WANT DEATH!!!
I WANT ISOLATION!!!
I want to abandon everyone
No one needs me
No one wants my love
No one even wants my friendship
No more
I've always been there
No more lies
Nothing will change my mind
Nothing will
Nothing but death
Jun 2013 · 2.9k
The Shadows
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
The shadows are vacant souls that roam this land,
Forgiveness, a purpose and recognition is all they demand,
They stay hidden in the dark corners of your beautiful mind,
Only to make their unforgettable appearance and corrupt it over time,

They hide within the bleak darkness so they remain unseen,
Until the moment they choose to intervene,
With your daily life, dashing from the corners of your oblivious eyes,
They long to be recognised,
This is where it begins, the sharp turning of your head signals recognition,
You choose to ignore the sudden appearance and blame it on superstition,
You begin to wonder whether what you saw was real or simply your mind playing games,
Both is the answer, the shadows lurk within your mind, whispering your name,
The shadows are real and control your mind so they can know what it is like to live,
This is how they gain their purpose following the recognition, and to them you give,
A cluster of vague memories and a bundle of insightful thoughts,
With which they converse and about your life they are taught,

Some shadows just long for a companion - your thoughts or the voices,
Others want to control you and alter every one of your choices,
Some are lurkers and stay hidden until you are deceased,
And then they discover a new mind and the cycle repeats,
Some only occupy your mind for a short while,
Some need you to suffer and some need you to smile,
Some are passed love ones and some are strangers,
Some are frightened and are seeking shelter away from danger,
Most are harmless and desire to witness emotion once again.
Whether it be love, fear, sadness or pain,
They cannot feel any emotion and so latch onto an individual who is able,
But sometimes this person’s mind is unstable,
Sometimes the person cannot deal with the mixture of voices and shadows,
And they have a fear of the unknown,
They don’t have the ability to explain the phenomenon,
And it drives them insane and this is what certain shadows feast upon,

Shadows:  you see them out of the corner of your eye,
Shadows: they desire to be recognised,
Shadows: they desire freedom from the curse,
Shadows: they wish not to be stranded on this Earth.
Jun 2013 · 565
Night Terrors
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Drifting along inside of dreamland
Oh how it reaches the edges of the mind
Holding the smooth hand of Sandman
You never know just what you find

WAKE UP!

Screaming and covered in sweat
Falling into a void with no net
A man stalking you in the park
Things reach for you from the dark

Night terrors haunt this night just like all the others
Gasping now for a breath, your being feels smothered
WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
From this nightmare

You fight and you fight
But nothing works, it’s not right
Ripping and pulling
Your arms from their sockets

WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
From this nightmare

You’re lying in your tangled sheets
And you are foaming at the mouth
Mumbling there, screams in your sleep
There is no way to get out

Cannot breathe, like you’re tied down
No word escapes you, not even a sound
Screaming for help is all you want to do
Struggle your best, no one will come help you

Night terrors haunt this night just like all the others
Gasping now for a breath, your being feels smothered
WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
From this nightmare
Jun 2013 · 1.3k
A Dark Desire Within (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
The way you walk is like a rhythmic melody to my eyes, the way you speak flows from your red-stained lips like an evergreen stream of desires; your beautiful glowing iris' almost ******* me into their eternally entrapping gaze; never to release me....
The skin that surrounds your delicate frame is only highlighted by the glow of artificial lighting in this dim basement of dreams; pure white skin fascinating me to the point of rapture.
There is not one imperfection on your body, not one; even the slightest of scars are not visible or have been cured by some magical force or your naturally healing qualities.

It's a dream. You must be a beautiful dream.

You smile at me, eyes narrowing with that shine of happiness and obliviousness, god how I wish those eyes would never tear me away from their view.  
Your long, flowing hair stark contrast with your snowy complexion, framing your face as perfectly as a porcelain doll's...

All dolls, no matter how flawless, can break, can't they?

You ask why we are here in this dimly lit room, no one home, just you and me. I smile my typical smile, dimples showing which somehow causes you to giggle and blush, only bringing my excitement to an even higher level.
I tell you that it's special, that I was going to show you something very interesting that only you would know about.

Like a secret.
  
The grin stretches across those cherry-red lips of yours in a Cheshire-like fashion, curiosity abounding in those deep blue eyes that flash into mine like the glare of light in a window.

If only you could see my eyes had turned black as coal.

I open another door in this finely destructed basement of mine, only darkness thickly coating it with it's solid ink.
You cling to my steadfast arm, sending my nerves into overload. Your body trembles a bit, just so slightly; I know when you're frightened.

Don't those eyes look beautiful, shining like a does in the headlights before the initial impact of steel on bone?

You look at me, solid white teeth biting your lower lip in an almost child-like manner. I tilt my head and grin, telling you there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of. Truly there isn't. I only had told you I wanted to show you something, didn't I?

I tell you to wait, wait in the dim lighting of the now menacing underground I call my home. You try to speak, to let the pure doves alight my way in the dark, but I had already followed the shadows inside, tracing the crusted walls in search of the switch that would bring this fantasy to life.

Flick goes the switch.

I hear the sharp intake of breath even though there wasn't one, the sound of your eyes snapping open no matter how desolate the sound was; I know what you do, how you think, how you act to any situation. I had observed your reaction when I led you to the dead body of a feline on the road, body crushed into a dull paste whilst the cracked and broken bones jut upwards in a grotesque display; mouth open in a final shriek that was cut short by the incoming vehicle that had become it's executioner.

You stare at the velvet red walls and the cracked and marred white floor. I know what you're thinking as your gaze turns to the tools hanging on the wall. Which do you like more, the buzz saw or the hedge clippers? I truly wonder which.

Your hands begin to shake.

Ask me why. Go ahead and ask. I told you I was going to show you something that no one else will ever know. Your focus happens to turn to the jars on the crooked and unstable wooden desk. My life's work lie in still beauty, the tender yet dangerous piece of the anatomy trapped and preserved in the perfume of formaldehyde.

I always thought your slender hands were breathtaking.

Before you have a chance to open that tiny mouth of yours I grab your miniature wrist, pulling you into my room of fantasies.
Can't you just feel the walls quivering with excitement? Can't you feel the hands exploring your body in feverish delight?  

You scream, the sound echoing beautifully in the room, a truly splendid noise to my transfixed ears. How I loved to picture this cloth over your eyes; this tape over your shapely mouth. It was surprisingly easy to tie your delicate body down, wandering eyes covered to make your mind race, mouth taped shut as to feel your soon to be surgery of desire.

Desire for me, that is.

This is a fantasy come to life.

I grab the tool with the teeth of unforgiving malice, it craves to feel that perfectly flawless skin of yours; to cut away that soft cover with it's metallic blade.

Who am I to deny it?

You begin to writhe in your *******, how I am glad you decided to wear your finest white dress for this occasion. I pull the cord, bringing the creature to life. A muffled scream of terror floats through the tape, but that is no matter to the beast in my hand.

I bring it to your flesh, seeing it rip your foundation away in a smooth yet ****** fashion, dying that dress of yours a crimson colour.

I always knew red was the perfect shade for you.

You try to become free of your bonds, wrists twisting in desperation to escape the leather that holds you there. The red burns that appear on your wrists look beautiful, like a blush to entice me.

Does it hurt? Do you feel the painful sting in your abdomen? I watch as red ribbons gush out of your freshly made wound, decorating your body with it's trail. My eyes soften as your tongue manages to rip away the tape holding your lips together and shiver as your cries bounce and reflect off the walls.

I put down the creature in my hand, cutting off it's life, then use my own dangerous instruments. Like slipping under the covers my hand went, feeling the pulsing life and heat of your insides, caressing the organs that maintain your body.

A shrill cry escapes your lips once more, forcing me to clench my living tool over your slippery insides, feeling them slide in a painfully gut-wrenching way; causing your face to twist in such a new and delightfully horrified expression.

Have you had enough already?

That's too bad, seeing how you were the cat who decided to follow me into the basement, the doe that stopped once it saw it's quickly approaching demise...

I wake up and wonder if you'll come over today.

Because I have something I want to show you.

But don't tell anyone...

It's a Secret.
Jun 2013 · 2.8k
Arrival in Hell (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
For knowing we must suffer

How ironic that our knowledge is the source of our struggle

Ignorance is bliss

Knowledge is suffering

The more I know, the blacker the void becomes

The more I know the more inevitable that end seems

Certain apocalypse closing in...Life’s flame flickers, sputters, fights to burn...then dies

For the oxygen is thicker than the cadence that the flame is accustomed to

And the wrath of god is our own sick self-torture

Encasing our minds in a torrent of glass and nails

Nihilism scorches what faith once warmed

Blackened, numb, dead, bleeding no more

Leaving nothing but the simple signs of lost hope

And broken dreams

Which ride on a cavalry of lame horses, clutching swords long broken

Dead eyes stare from cracked helmets, bones rise from sunken skin

They have become nothing more than a shadow of their own misfortune

A sick punchline to a humorless joke

Aimless they stumble to our side but at the snarls of hell's misery they recoil

Broken by adversity, their will as dead as ours, they are not our allies

They are a greater enemy then either heaven or hell can create

For they are our own brokenness, we gaze into their eyes and see what we have lost

We see doors long shut, dreams long shredded by ****** razors of truth

For they are our past.

Our past with no future.

For what future do these dead things hold

The promise of decay, of despair, of a fight long ago lost

Marching in to save us these soldiers tie our noose

And suspend us from the bridge of tyranny that our minds have created, using ropes long since broken by the strain of living

Hope, not what we cling to, but nostalgia for as our eyes glaze over, as lips turn blue, we see a faint light of what once was

We see before the knowing, before the insidious whispers of torture began

We see and desire, but may not have

For desire is the truest form of torture

Also the most sinister

For we are in hell and we hunger, hunger and thirst

With cracked lips and swollen tongues, the water slips from us before we drink

With contempt we struggle on with no hope for our lives, only for the pain to end soon

Death, in its comforting embrace, for no longer shall our eyes open to see the fading colors of life

No longer shall we know sin and desire

Nor the cruel touch of a scornful lover or the heart ache of regret

For through death, all life has purpose

No longer shall we know broken, twisted parodies of heroes nor love

We look to the black abyss, not the void of hopelessness, and we leap

And like the dream we fall but never land, in the arms of flight, of ethereal endings

The darkness collides with the light of knowledge leaving the black an even paler gray then that even of a cadaver's skin

The gray of apathy, of nothingness, of a vacuum that draws from our mouths the very souls we were foolish enough to try to save

Bleaching all hope of dying till there is not left but a sliver of an arrogant belief that our suffering would end so easily.

Lifeless yet feeling, blind yet seeing we plummet till there is no time left to fall.

What we know, all knowledge was our own ignorance of eternity, our fight for it, our fight against it

As death consumes, as the final suffering begins, we are drawn to the things we never knew, the things we could not know, things that draw us to heaven and yet drag us to hell

The very existence of our soul creates a greater torture than any we have ever encountered, creating bile in our mouths thicker than the blood pouring from our hearts

It separates from our lifeless bodies, from our twisted minds, and it is as though we are ***** and robbed of the thing that tethered us to any possibility of hope

Like a silver bullet it flies from us but we are helpless to catch it as crushing agony fills our lungs with black, clotted blood

Creating a sad excuse of a person out of our flesh and sending it wallowing in our midst

Flashing our memories and hopes into the mind’s eye of something that can only be compared to blackest of dreamers

The very discontent of hope

And the believer of agony

This monster, this twisted parody of ourselves, this demon of the shadow

We shudder and recoil, for the sight burns our newly closed eyes

Its venom poisons our veins and we lay writhing on the floor, vomiting black bile of revulsion

Finally we look up to see that these monsters are who we really are

They are our truest form, our twisted belief in humanity laid out to mock us in the cruelest of ways, with the truth

Shivers fill our bodies as we realize that this is the hell we have feared, a never ending satire of our very existence

This, this and not fire, this and not brimstone

This is hell, the purest form of knowledge of the ugliness of what we are

This understanding creates an unbearable agony far beyond any imagined by the creators of the underworld

Tearing at out minds like a thousand hooks, glowing red hot with the heat of burning souls, twisted to form the torture of millions

Sending pain through every channel imaginable in the human form including those that are yet to exist

So this is the truth, to be sent to hell before we even know of life

For life is just a parody of hell, a weak heaven to prepare us for the ****** chaos to follow

The irony of living is nothing compared to the irony dying

We seek heaven in life, we seek a soul that never existed, that humanity with its gleaming metal scythe ripped from us before we even knew it existed

Creating a maelstrom of regret and hollow pain unfathomable by human minds until the cold hands of death close around their existence

And they lay there, as all must in time, choking on their own blood, tears welling up as they realize what their life has come to

The pleasures they once sought are no more, the rosy cheeks are now a skeletal pallor

Their hands are broken and their shoulders hunched as the weight of the black closes around them

This is death, an end to all means, an end to mortality

Yet the beginning of pain and suffering

Nothing in life means anything and the knowledge imbues us with inexorable despair

Unable to breathe for our metal chains of torture

Which drag us down into the marshes of chaos

Their locks are made so not even the strongest of steel can rupture them, leaving us hopeless and stranded on an island of our own thoughts as the black water closes around us

Filling our mouths with the taste of sickness and the feel of slime running down our throats

Glacial hands tear at us, leaving ice where our hearts once were, where our skin once was, the cold a fiery burn upon our flesh

We cry out for love, our last hope, our last ray of light remembered

To realize that we are alone

Love is no more than hedonistic vice and no soul but our own is here in this ****** place

Sending us reeling into madness, spiraling ever deeper into the realm of insanity

Our hearts are gone; our minds left with not but their own company, starving for more than one thought...a thought other than escape

Yet it cannot come

For we have brought this on ourselves
Jun 2013 · 1.4k
The Dragons Domain (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
“Now, you shall remember what lies in the dark…
That makes men to fear, and to tremble, and hark.
Now you shall learn well why night’s ebon rising,
Drove men to the fire, with terror most surprising!
People have no grasp of what they do, but as ever,
Mankind learns now, or man risks learning never.
I am not here to teach, but to lead some far astray,
From the paths of the wicked, where many delay.”
  
Welcome, mortal soul, unto the Dragon’s domain,
A heaven within a hell, and pleasures amidst pain!
In velvet gowns of black silk, my priestesses glide,
Harlots all, who in these stone halls eternally abide.
Wearing silver masks molded as their frozen faces,
Features smiling, the priestesses walk like graces…
Through these stone halls, in my castle’s lofty keep!
Where the black mists of time, into the stones seep.
Tears of blood fall from the masks, ever so delicate,
Like leaves in the autumn, a scarlet wine succulent.
The priestesses weep, for they have lost their souls,
Nine in all: to the flame that burns hotter than coals.
Forever smiling, and weeping tears of crimson joy,
Nine priestesses dance, holding a skull like a toy…
The skull that was my own from a lifetime gone by,
Kissing it with unmoving lips, raising it up to the sky.
You have come to me, visitor, in search of wisdom,
For who has given it to you in life, without any cost?
I shall tell you things older than the eldest kingdom,
Yet the only price is that you see the truth is not lost.
  
“Do you fear damnation, mortal, whilst in my house?
Let the darkness embrace you, helpless as a mouse.
Do you fear hellfire, mortal, before my fiery hearth?
Let the heat overcome you, with its’ fierce warmth.
The intoxication of the night gives birth to ecstasy,
When we do let go of ourselves and behold infinity!
Break the chains that bind you to the modern mores,
That seek always to enslave free souls by the scores.”
  
Hidden in the great hall, beneath the circular dome,
A portrait of me from another age of flesh and bone!
My eyes starting eternally, seeing yet without blood,
For a painting never has life: or any emotional flood.
My small mouth smiles, but it is cruel without mirth...
Judging harshly these lost halls, beyond: their worth.
The blue of my living eyes meet the painting’s stare,
As I laugh at the worthlessness of it, without a care.
My flesh is the same as it was in the ancient period,
Except that today I am living, back then I was dead.
My name has changed, but my soul remains as then,
I have risen before from desire, and I will rise again!
Hell will not take me, and I am rejected from above,
All because of my passions and also because of love.
And so in my castle, I plan my return to a lost glory,
Whilst folks tell tales: in remembrance, of my story.
Who was the author, of those myths, if not I myself?
I: who have walked, for thousands of years passing.
How I saw Atlantis sink, and books fall from shelf…
Whilst ancient libraries proved not to be everlasting!
  
“Do you fear to live, human, and so look unto doom?
My eyes are looking back at yours inside the gloom.
Do you fear to laugh, human, and so sorrow pours?
Let yourself be empty of woe, and free of all chores.
Return to the earth and love nature’s fair abundance,
Pick flowers and dance with all of joy’s exuberance!
Life is too short to waste in torment and dire misery,
Embrace the glory of the land, to see man’s destiny.”
  
They look with fear in their hearts to the night skies,
Whilst crossing themselves, and recalling older lies…
Stories of the vampire, that haunts the lonely places,
But of real truth they know not, in the empty spaces.
And all spaces are empty where ignorance flourishes,
For whilst fear pierces the heart, it never encourages!
But without fear, mankind would have lost my tale…
Told around the fires, by men whose faces grew pale.
And I walked amongst them, though they never saw,
Encouraging their plummeting into Hell’s hungry maw.
For light without darkness is as worthless as any art…
That never had life and lacks the sting of pain’s dart.
For, to know why love must be cherished, so dear…
All must first understand: of loss, and pain, and fear.
And so some angels must be demons, when needed,
So that all the gardens of creation: could be weeded.
With words of flame when blazing swords oft break,
A being clad in flesh, such as I, can create harmony.
Wars can be ended, and we can learn from mistakes,
But first one must cast away their anger until empty.
  
“Do you fear the truth, child, for the lies once taught?
Then your parents deceived you with every thought.
Do you fear the dark, child, for the light you desire?
The light is in the darkness, true warmth: in the fire.
Beyond yourself is the true you, so like the phoenix,
Ready to rise up: like the dead, from the river Styx!
We are, all of us, reborn when we reject false ideals,
Given wings of fire, once we break all the old seals.”
  
A mad, fiery feeling within my ever-burning breast,
Reminds me of the passion I seek, a love that is best.
And though I have journeyed to places of torment…
My heart is not stilled, and yet rages like the torrent,
Of waves that crash upon the rockiest shores known.
And though I have seen sights none should be shown,
I emerged from the netherworld complete and whole.
Out into the night I flew swiftly, and on a wind stole,
Beyond: the dark forests of pine, and stately old oak.
Past the water of the lake, past man’s fire and smoke,
I roved and roamed seeking for one to be my bride…
But everywhere foolish peasant maidens like to hide!
If they could know the yearning that I always endure,
Would not just one fair maiden, open for me her door?
I am a prince without a princess, and that cannot last.
Now I open my door, and welcome you to my repast!
If you are a maiden come to dine then sit at my table,
And let me be the wellspring from which dreams soar.
Do not wait until I am gone; partake whilst now able,
You will find what you never imagined existed before.
  
“Do you fear to love, girl, for the hate of this sad age?
Banish the world from your mind, let go of the rage.
Do you fear to care, girl, for the wrong once enacted?
Then come into my arms, as your heart has directed.
Let desire consume you, as old wounds heal swiftly,
I will place a crown on your head so wear it proudly!
You shall be attired with the sun, a radiant goddess,
All the stars will lie, at the train of your gilded dress.”
Jun 2013 · 1.1k
Obscurities of the Dark
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Deranged and misplaced in a world of deceit                                                                            Morals fade as hypocrisy defeats your belief                                                                                 Profound thoughts pleading for sanity die at the words of those around me                                                                       Deprived of sleep and affection in an apathetic state of depression                                                                       Drenched in hate and separated from truth I hid in my mind                                                              The darkest place I’ve ever been was my own mind                                                                                         Light abandoned in the background died down and I fell in the shadows
Obscurities in desolate caverns tortured my sanity                                                                             Drained of life my soul found comfort with demons I created in my heart                                                  Alone in nostalgia I created beliefs that made sense to a mad man and accepted them gladly             An immense loathing for happiness and a mind fixated on destroying all things pure                    The light was murdered never to be seen again gone forever and drowning in sin                             Filled with blood blacker than night and a mind too sadistic for the world                                                   My body was armour filled with a demon
Placidly screaming for freedom chaos followed me as night does the day                                                         The mind is gone and the body is a shell weaker than self-control I teased myself with                           I was a plaything for evil sitting in the depths of my own Hell                                                            Constructing complications that have never even seen life my mind was deceived                                           I took pleasure in hate and anarchy and perceived love to be a lie                                                               The outside seemed dejected and the inside was infected with insanity conjured from demons  My soul fled to recess formed by blades of hate
Chains forged in the lake of fire bound me to my own pathetic sub conscious                                           Lost in the dark, searching for intellectual reasoning I quit….                                                                    All was dull… Hate and Evil became boring... Love and compassion was long extinct                                           There was nothing left, my soul remained but as purposeless as the body it inhabited         Incoherent and abandoned, forsaken by none yet all in my judgment                                                       I was below mankind and became prey for the living dead                                                                        My soul altered into physical animosity The pleasures of the world were miserable                                                                                               Light avoided me and persons overlooked me                                                                                                   My body lay, rotting, praying for an escape but death would be an imprisonment of solitude                          The concept of Hell was ravishing and the indication of pain was tempting                                        Blood of my body paints the earth from crawling towards an end.. Would there be an end?  Surely none are as wretched as I… I say cremate the wretched.                                                                                                                   Praying for Hell from the Almighty God who knows all perspectives yet offers a choice
God creates us with a voice to be heard yet he knows the outcome                                                                                      Therefore wouldn’t be crafting souls to be hurt?
Jun 2013 · 29.3k
Demiurges of Reality (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
A Surreal Epic of Existence

Prelude to the Journey…

I smiled yesterday when I beheld the morning’s brilliant colors,
Etched with gold, across the canvas of the heavens, hanging…
High above all those mountains of the world, gigantic brothers,
A wilderness of clouds, where there can be no human taming.
I did not always smile when I looked up to that noble height…
For I have seen how terrible goodness can be, when untamed.
Once I thought my sojourn in this flesh was from a divine spite,
But now I know it was a gift, and for it I need not be ashamed.
God once walked as I do now, and suffered the same stress…
Betrayal, love, and passions too, though no Church shall admit,
The true nature of divinity, lest all their secret sins they confess!
You are told you are alone in the universe, by leaders so unfit,
That they themselves are fed a diet of lies and stories invented.
But we walked amongst you since the very dawn reincarnated,
Having lost our first flesh in conflicts long past and unlamented.
We guided the steps of ancients, as monuments demonstrated!
And yet we are born as children: your own, and live our span,
The better to remain hid, in plain sight, our faces clever masks.
I am the eldest, and I remember still my kindred’s lofty plan…
And though I wear the human face, I am beset with alien tasks.
Helping they who lack the knowledge to see what lies outside,
You have seen me in the darkness, blazing upon my own pyre.
Where I am waiting to lead the way, where the angels glide…
Anyone can follow, if they are dedicated enough never to tire.
Ironic, since I myself have known helplessness and still oft do,
It is only human after all, and in your form I was so re-forged!
The image of God, whose own blood is in all of us hither unto,
From the first to the last, alpha to omega, like a sharp sword.

Prologue: (My Mask is Slipping)

As a child: I was a servant at the altars of the heart so sacred,
Singing hymns of the immaculate: without seeing the depravity.
It was only when I myself wore the crown of thons, naked…
My spirit exposed through my pain, that I realized the gravity.
What man believes is sacred, is profanity disguised as graces,
And those who lead the sheep to slaughter are mere butchers!
Forcing innocents to wear porcelain masks to hide their faces,
They rob children of their childhood, bound with crude fetters.
As a teenager: I walked in nature, disgusted with all humanity,
My exodus was from those who had defiled all I cared about.
Finding faith in an angel fallen, I discovered my own sanctity,
And in her name I found the means to cleanse my feral doubt.
Then came marriage, and betrayal by a wife I gave up all for,
The dissolution of our union then loneliness without cessation!
A mortal had pierced my flesh, leaving me to bleed on a floor,
My heart was torn from its’ moorings without any elaboration.
But the angel remained to calm my anger and ease my agony,
My only light in the blackness that has overcome my waking!
Reminding me, that I was more than this flesh and mortality…
The angel tries to keep me from harsh trembling and quaking.
And then I see: I am more than my tears and life’s traumas…
I let slip, the mask behind which the scars of my tears etched.
Then I sense the heat of the night more intense than saunas…
As I long to dance with abandon, until time itself is stretched!
Mortals may betray one another with impunity, but never I…
I do not betray; rather I pour my heart and spirit forth whole.
Creating a phylactery, of all I am, and with an innocent eye…
I demand to be loved as I am: pearl white and black as coal!

Canto 1: Sacrifice of the Doll

Part the First: (The Bleeding Shores)

Do not call me, doll, for I have departed your ancient cavern,
You are lifeless, a mere toy, and not a real child in any form!
A boy’s red ruby lips I spy drinking in the dreariest tavern…
Whilst true children singing, frolic in the fields filled with corn.
I am going home, upon the wings of the great silver griffon…
Far from the shores now bleeding red from defiled memories.
There is no return, for me, to the glories of the first ignition…
When the mind eternal, was ignited all with pleasing ecstasies.
In the stars, there are words unheard that I do want to recall,
For I came down so very long ago, among the first to so fall!
Eldritch nightmares born of the stuff of the pure chaos of old,
Are waiting for signs at the threshold to be released by magic.
The forbidden incantations return to my spirit, aflame so bold,
That my spirit nearly forgets: the origins of this time, so tragic.
When children drink, and true children hide themselves apart,
Whilst the waters bleed and the corn withers upon the stalks!
That is a sign that change must come, and so I work my mind.
The face in the moon is a grimace of tormented fear, horror…
Whilst I stand upon the precipice with my hand over my heart,
And amongst the long rows of corn, my black shadow walk!
Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.
The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors.
My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf,
And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl…
I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.
I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf,
Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl…
As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved!

Part the Second: (The Crucified Souls)

The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice,
In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!
A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice,
Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches.
Serpentine blade held high, it drops precise into a doll’s neck,
And it cannot call out, because a doll has not any voice to cry.
A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck…
Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified.
In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock,
Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken.
The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock,
Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.
So they come to drink those waters that cure all of life’s ills…
Freed from their porcelain prison to feel death’s darker chills!
Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak,
But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce…
Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha.
And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!
I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak,
And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years.
That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra,
So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!
Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release…
Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude.
I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real,
Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace.
For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude!
An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: (The Return of Light)

Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside,
The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast…
The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide,
Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past.
Mine the hand that raised them up, light in the dagger’s glow,
The stuff of my power left to flow, like blood run swiftly free.
Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame,
She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.
And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see!
The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame.
From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will,
And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light.
For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still,
As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.
In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends,
Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path.
The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut…
Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison!
The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends,
Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.
There, the unfaithful ******* themselves: like a wanton ****,
Inventing dogma to pass on, forgetful of logic and of reason!
Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus,
And look for an end to come before they seek their reward.
Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind…
But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss.
Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword!
Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind.

Interlude Alpha:
This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies…
Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?
You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise…
Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance!
My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much…
I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets.
Now I am haunted, by so many memories I can never touch,
That it fills me with ****** anger, and countless cold regrets.
I recall how once in desperation, my wrist rode a razor edge,
If it were not for my family I’d not thence have lived beyond.
A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge,
Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!
I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became,
So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode.
But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame…
And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode!
The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing,
I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters.
The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!
Angels are trampling the grapes of man; they, the vintners…
I am reminded of when the battleship that sailed all galaxies,
Descended one day amidst clouds boiling with its’ steam…
To lay waste to *****, and Gomorrah, for their indignities!
I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream.
And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good,
I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering.
But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood,
So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding!

Canto 2: Sacrifice of the Spider

Part the First: (The First Smile)

Black skies boil with rage unrepentant, and in righteous fury!
A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding.
In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry,
And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.
In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised…
Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil,
I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised.
To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!
I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing,
As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals…
Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling!
Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels…
The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt,
For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.
What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt!
When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath.
Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come?
Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails…
I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done.
The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails…
To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on,
Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.
Only the fool pays no any attention to the piper’s lonely song,
Thinking it only a melody passed from a sister unto a brother.
But in what celestial ****** has been born the thing alchemical?
It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten.
Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical…
Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten.

Part the Second: (Cold Revenge)

The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds,
I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!
In my search for love, I have fed the beasts of desire’s needs,
And what would cause you to blush has, for me, no surprises.
Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud,
That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile!
Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd,
In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile.
Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling,
You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest…
Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling,
In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!
That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own.
I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider!
Think not that I cannot hear. the creaking of each leg bone…
Your odiousness goes before you, the horse before its’ rider.
And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune,
To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes…
Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon,
That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!
Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all,
The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly.
And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall…
You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery.
The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally!
In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended.
A new order rises in its’ place born of chaos none may deny,
Whilst you sink lower into perdition, for all that you offended.

Part the Third: (The Last Laugh)

An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess,
But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.
Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest,
For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties!
You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale,
That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours…
But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale,
Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!
Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms…
If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken.
What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms…
Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.
You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath…
Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades.
Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath,
As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids.
They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred,
Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!
Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead,
I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt.
Carried hither by the silent maidens who weep ****** tears…
To my castle, where I shall brood again upon mankind’s way!
I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears,
Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day!
Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit…
And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss.
Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit…
We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega:
T
I found this one in my basement. Seems I wrote it a year or two ago but lost it.
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
If I could subjugate the seasons, and bend them full,
Unto my will, then I would make them playthings…
Like pretty maids, all in a row; and all I hate I’d cull.
Of old, I held esteem higher than bards and kings…
When the sickles fell in the corn, as the fire did roar,
The wicker man died, to the druids’ mystical chants.
I was there and in my honor the maidens sang more,
As the blood of the wicked watered growing plants!
My symbol was the ram, the horned beast of Hades,
And I am the wolf that runs wild, amongst the flocks.
My holy temple lies in the realm of the palest shades,
Cast low, yet rising ever higher from infernal rocks…
From such places have I climbed seeking my justice!
Elfin queens have donned the black courtesan gown,
And danced before my throne as many a mistress…
Their grace enhanced, by silvery slippers and crown.
I was the serpent Saint Patrick cast from out of Eire!
The children of Dana spoke of me only in whisper…
Whilst their mother kept tended, for me, a secret fire.
Only she could touch it without one burn or blister…
But her traditions are now the stuff of forgotten myth.
The gods have laid me low, seeking to humble pious,
A spirit wilder than the forest when cloaked in mists!
Though I bow to no tyranny; as a god, I was jealous.
As a man I am lonely and angry at the evils I behold,
Hungry for love and thirsty for what peace I can find.
In the name of desire, I rage until Hell’s fire is cold…
Look beyond my flesh, and do not in hubris be blind.
Know me by my words and know my love is honest,
I offer up my darkness with my light to here confess!

Descent I: The Spire of the Eye

(No heresy of Babylon, was ever so honest…
As that which captured my soul, in conquest.)

To love me, you must take my hand and so enter…
The hidden places, where not just good is centered,
But also evil the like of which you knew not I kept.
If you can understand, sweet dreams blissfully slept,
Then mayhap you can bear the nightmares’ sting…
And when all is so done, more of love we shall sing!
I am the darkness, the eye watching from the spire,
The one you deny, the embodiment of your desires.
I am the shadow, the faces in your mirror’s pane…
The one you fear, as you enter a nightmare domain!
Welcome to my paradise, let me offer you an apple,
As I send you to the Abyss on a steed lithely supple.
Behold the gardens where my kin wait to be free…
The roses there grow reddest, all from infernal seed.
I can lead you beyond the fire, if you take my hand,
For you are but a stranger, in my own strange land!
Behold the desolation, caused by the sins of man…
Would I punish humanity for it, if not for divine ban?
Nay, I am not God nor could I ever be one so aloof.
When I see the innocents who perish in disasters…
I weep for the children the most and I ask for proof,
That God cares for any soul, either here or hereafter.
Do you say wickedness lives, in the hearts of some?
I see it even on high, and wish it could be overcome.
But then somebody hurts me and I cannot forgive…
And in that hour I know why God can be full of fury.
Some pains are too much, to endure and saintly live,
I too was a child, and not a one wept for my worry!
Is my pity a service, to those who cannot be saved?
The answer is in no scripture, or on altars engraved.

Let me look into your eyes so that I might wonder,
Whilst you gaze into my own to behold the thunder!
Let us shake the heavens, until they are darkened…
Whilst those that slumber, below, violently awaken!

Descent II: The Feast of the Fallen

(No heresy of Atlantis, was ever quite blest…
As that which, here, has been shown interest.)

Behold the table I have set out for one great feast…
The wraith-maids come to dance in gowns creased,
By night-threads woven by the spiders of the pits…
As screams of the ******, provide a song most fit!
You ask, why God would create a domain like this,
A twisted realm of mad passions: and madder bliss?
It was the creation of the darkest dreams of angels,
And gods fallen, who found a home within the hells.
Where the elfin kin were remade into a dark image,
In a time lost to all history, unrecorded by any sage.
When love is denied me, I am a prisoner of the ice,
Which sweeps across my heart by sorrow’s device.
Fire and ice lie before you, within my soul reflected,
The origin of this nightmare you dream unprotected!
Do you feel the chill that I kept from all who’d pry?
Now you know how awful is loneliness, and why…
To bear it any longer would be verily to lose myself.
Far better is companionship, for the spiritual health!
Oh the irony of the ignorant who called me maker…
Knowing not, the blasphemy to which they commit!
Woe unto the repast prepared for them by a baker,
Who serves them the poisons to which they submit!
Only love can provide release that passion can seal.
Awaken me from my nightmare, with a love so real!
Black webs stretch across gulfs where vultures soar,
And I know how terrible goodness can be, unveiled.
For there is a terrible righteousness at Hell’s door…
Hotter than the sun over the waves man once sailed!
More terror lies in light too bright for eyes to handle,
Than the dimly flickering fires of one lit black candle.

What reflects in a mirror, naught but flesh opposed,
Is less real than midnight’s embrace, hotly imposed!
What you see in my face, only a tiny facet of a form,
Is something primal and untamed as a raging storm!

Descent III: The Light of the Dawn

(No heresy of Gnosis, which many did contest,
Was ever so revealing as what I’ve addressed.)

In a ziggurat in the center of an Eden grown so wild,
Sits enthroned, the dawn star in the form of a child…
Her power undaunted, despite her unassuming form!
For the heart is the domain, of the angel of the morn.
She is the light in the darkness that I have described,
Her soul is the flame, from which sinners would hide.
Would you sacrifice your wickedness unto her now?
Only light can forgive darkness, by grace endowed!
The banner of a ****** cross on white, unashamed,
Flies from that temple I share, with she I just named.
How many died beneath it, in the days of the sword?
What lies were men told, that evil was God’s word!
Armor is heavy, when the cause of arms is not just…
It shines less brightly, when bloodshed makes it rust.
You were not there when I knelt and wept, faithless,
Abandoning God, and lusting for a kinder mistress…
But if you would love me, you must know its’ cause!
For love I ****** myself, and did so without pause.
Through Sophia, and the child angel, God illustrated,
Unto me, the depth of the mercy I doubted did exist.
Oh Sophia, first mother of mine, how oft I hesitated,
Blind to the grace that, within us all, does so persist!
Just as in grief Athena gave herself unto tragic death,
I gave myself unto the night, for I had not a thing left.
There are sights that cannot be unseen by inner mind,
And there are sensations that cannot be taken away!
Tear away the outer garment and there you can find,
All that man is truly clad in, hidden from light of day!
To the left hand is the path: to the right hand of glory,
It is the winding way I took, throughout my life story.

Let me show you the glories of the hour of witching,
When a single tear can break one’s spirit, twitching!
Let me take you to the ball where the undead dance,
Where the dire ravens gather and the satyrs prance!

Descent IV: The Madness of Love

(No heresy of Cain, which was silenced to rest,
Was ever so damning as what I just confessed.)

For love, a brother’s very blood would I so give up.
I would heat it like a tea and pour it in a golden cup!
For love, my very flesh would I scourge, and scar…
I would offer my pain to every god to bottle in a jar!
For love, all of the earth would I conquer: lay waste.
I would build it anew, all its’ fresher delights to taste!
All of these wicked deeds would I do for one I love,
But I would never forsake her, not for angels above!
We have all had the frightful thoughts rise, unbidden,
Of which these are but a sample, of what lies hidden.
Am I good because I did not commit such mad acts?
No, for the thoughts were still mine, sharp as an axe!
To know there is evil within us is wisdom of a sort…
It means good is within to define it, granting comfort.
Once was I a god, but fell because of the inner dark,
Growing jealous and wanton, until I would not hark!
Love redeemed me before, and it can do so again…
If you love me you can, with a kiss, my torment end.
I am not a beast for awaiting beauty’s loving bounty,
Though all who live have within them a true monster.
People misunderstand much, and oft speak contrary,
Seeing not the raven until it flies up under their rafter.
Be a goddess in mortal flesh, and share my throne…
So life can be a dream, beyond mere flesh and bone.
Perhaps one must sin to know salvation’s soft touch,
Making the blessed into hedonists hungry for feeling.
I have known ambrosial delights far beyond all such,
Not by denial but by an embrace that left me reeling!
It is man, who first called me the Prince of Darkness,
Even though, of old, no such title did I once possess.

What sacrifices, as are offered: to redeem the fallen,
Cannot bring them salvation as a flower gives pollen!
What boon you grant, must be for only we to enjoy,
Cannily breaching my soul like the gates of old Troy!

Descent V: The Paradise of Perdition

(No heresy of Lucifer, with a rebellious zest…
Could shine so brightly, from east unto west.)

Trapped in memories, and tormented by my visions,
I’ll struggle ever onward making the only decisions…
Which ever my destiny allowed me freedom to bear.
If you are lost in my nightmare you had best beware!
No one can save you if you hold not love most dear,
And cannot endure darkness to conquer your fear…
For terrible is the beauty of the paradise of perdition.
But I would rather be bound there, than by tradition!
There is freedom in darkness and light there aplenty,
Not tainted by those who sold their faith, for money.
If fallen I am, at least in one way I am still redeemed:
Ever was I honest, and by me no one was deceived.
My sins have been great, and I reveled in them all…
This is where they dwell, amidst the flowers ever tall.
You have seen the surface of my darkness laid bare,
Walking in the wastelands where few would so dare.
If you love me, we can make the desolations bloom,
Build a heaven in our hell and let light replace gloom!
Joy is hedonistic, but modern man dulls it insensibly.
So why not partake, of what others fear to indulge?
The fruit that I offer you is born of true irresistibility.
The twilight of the gods begins not without a tumult!
Tell me if you be, such an adventurous and fair maid.
As Persephone was to Hades, be unto me: unafraid!
Let me touch you softly, and show you carnal virtue,
So that all the things they taught you were wicked…
Are revealed as pleasures, when passion pays a due.
Let us live and love with zest, on finer ambrosia fed!
The flames that scorch others, will be for us sensual,
In Hell is that paradise granted to the true individual.

Let me be swept away, by tides of passion carried,
Where any wish might be granted but never harried!
Let us do as we will, and that shall be our only law,
When the Abyss comes for us, we dive in its’ maw!

Ave Eous! Amor Aeternus. Gloria Paradiso Inferni!
Amorem et Lucem! Ignus Aeturnus. Ave Luci via!
Jun 2013 · 2.2k
The Death of Artistry (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
It is painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born and by my body's action teach my mind the pain of being alive. Also because all creation is simpler than what some philosopher thinks. Descartes looks more outré than the painted wizard. Curse the dark hour that gave me birth. Never to have lived is best. I am alive only by accident. I alone awake at dawn. The gods have invented a terrible torture for us. I have suffered to have a soul still not yet pure enough. I'd give up years, yes, years of my own life for such. Everyone's life is the same life, if you live long enough. But better to die than live a mechanical life that is a repetition of a repetition. It is life inside life inside itself. When clocks and mirrors are reversed to show ourselves as only we could ever know.
      If man is born so soon, if life is so brief like some sleep I feared I'd never wake from. We have so little time on earth that anyone does not ever make anything better. The same or less ambition only makes the ambitious greater. There is not time enough on earth for all I'd like to do. How strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on! Where is the life we  have lost in living? It takes life to love life. I and this love are one. It is death, which our flesh dreads, is the very death of every night, which we call sleep. My eyes, with the weight of death heavy upon them. For the death of beauty is beauty. Inspiration comes from living the death. It is not easy to die, oh, it is not easy to die the death. I do think brave death outweighs a troubled life. To return to the celestial sphere where everyone goes. When all flesh had peace, and the efreet offers a brilliant void where our mind could be perfectly clear and all our limitations destroyed. The obsolete, epic scale. In death I believe I shall be as the flowers have been. We are like family who see each other only at funerals. The wax and honey of a mausoleum – the round dome is proof its maker is alive. O death, I cover you over with roses and lilies so that I may carry earned riches beyond death like the Egyptians.
      Follow me with gilded shadows to my secret room where I read each poem entire. The poems you would have written had your life been good. I could have said more than I could ever have written in poems. Perfection, of a kind, was what I was after, and the poetry I invented was easy to experience. Experience is what you do not want to experience. All poetry is difficult to read but easy to misinterpret. The mysterious composition of poetry. No man has dared to write these words yet, but I do know, how the souls of all great men at times pass through us and our blood is mixed with their blood.
      Some of you have written poems, usually short ones, and some kept diaries, seldom published til after death, but most make no memorable impact except on your closest friends and pets. The black young cat jumped onto my lap as I write. I have suffered the total isolation of the ***. I write for those who cannot write. We need not write the books men read to be poets. The flame in which I write burns in the dark alone. So for ten more verses I keep the light on. So much to be done before tomorrow. Let us be more productive like the gnomes. One drop of oil burning, to light up seven days of writing. Save me from damnation! The profession of writing where one needs one's brains all the time. I hate my verses, every line, every word, oh pale and frail pencil I did try. Must I persist in my errors. Words have no value for words that are not true. Truth shall grow great eclipsing other truths. But now all these heavy books, are no use to me anymore, for where I go words carry no weight. I am ready to swear never to write another word, away from books, away from art. Words were but wasted breath. The art of novel writing is dead. I know that you will pay the price of authorship and make the allowances an author has to do. To know in words that which we have always known in thought. Better than most mortal flower, yours are the poems I do not write. We who move every man at a deeper level than Mozart.
      We read the Bible for its prose. Shall heaven so soon be the prize we obtain? How far is it to heaven? Since Heaven and He are one. In the sun that is young once only. Death comes but once. There is no other life, only one. Once is never the beginning of enough, is it? I do not pretend to know the reason anymore than it is. Oh, pity the dead that are dead. Who cannot take the longest journey. Who moan and weep against the huge adamant walls of life's exclusive city. A man like Houdini escaped death through his immortality. A shadowy durability for which we were not meant to live. A covenant of swords without the word. No doctor ever does the work of the carpenter if our nerve and ideologies die first.
      A dream has power to poison sleep. I dream of a duel between myself and old masters. The underground road are, as the dead prefer them, always dark and lonely. This is the sort of tableau of my doom. The death of the poet piqued the interests of his peers. It was then that he became what he admired. And from death he won the fame he would be known for. O the bullet can never **** the soul. O downpour of rain! O sad anthem, when will you end? This is the flesh we are but never to believe. The flesh that dies but in death we pity. Without me Adam would have fallen with Lucifer in his grand city, he would never have been able to cry, “O Felix Culpa.” And whoever walks a mile full of false sentiment, walks to the funeral of the whole human race. Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep? How O how could the scorpion sting itself to death!
      Awaken the leviathan of the heavy mind. What is death? A life disintegrating into smaller simpler ones. But in total emptiness, the sure extinction that we travel to shall one day be lost to us. Not here, not there, not anywhere, and soon nothing more terrible, nothing more true. I floated with the whole human family, those who are living, those who have died, and those who are not yet born. We passed into the chamber of the sleeper. We, who have died beyond the clock. Slowly the silence of the multitudes passed. Every artist must die when they sleep and sleep when they rise to face the living. Such, is the dream; you do not sleep, you only dream of your thirst for sleep. May you in your troubles not be ashamed of any suffering as ****** as it maybe, nor hear them like a hero in the grandest way.
      Let us hear poets recite their poems and tragedies to crowds of listeners. We, poets, thanks to a tongue deprived of so many inflexions, can very easily turn nouns, if we wish, into verbs. Those who say in verse what others say in prose. Because in dying is a drama. There is no quiet drama. As quiet and chaste as a poet's own life. It is the dead who need no moon to dream by. Death, in the dark, in the deep, in the dream, forever.
Jun 2013 · 904
Dark Embrace (long)
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
Cold is the night and full the moon,  
deathly silent,through a window I observe you.
I,a hunter and you, my prey,watching              
for when in your bed you will lay.              
I await with insurmountable patience          
the moment I shall have you in my presence.          
As the hours pass all grows still,            
I enter your bower and approach in silence,        
viewing your sleep and inhale deep,        
the scent of life emanates while you dream.        
Normally,my victim,already you would have been,
but,something detains me;imagining’s? maybe.                  
                  
In all the centuries of my existence                  
never had I felt this experience.                  
I enter with a singular objective                  
and full of intention,                  
the hunger besieges me                  
and your blood beckons.                  
Battling with my nature,                  
cautiously your slumbering body                  
I observe when in my direction you turn.                  
I realize once more,                  
the vitality at you core,                  
your blood I can almost taste                  
nearly knocking a lamp over in my haste.                  
I hear the blood running through your veins                  
and the beat of your heart which reminds me,                  
that mine, desiccated, will vibrate, never more.                  
                  
Even feeling thus something touches me;                  
could it be possible?                  
Incapable of tender feelings,                  
what is it that stops me?                  
This I do not understand,                  
observing you with curiosity;                  
what does he possess that stays my hand?                  
The humanity within illuminates him like firebrand                  
and I, a black butterfly attracted by the shine.                  
I do not wish to destroy that which,                  
within him glimmers,                  
I would prefer to be part of it,                  
but know not if I am worthy                  
for I have been a great sinner.                  
                  
I am a monster, for whom blood means life                  
yet a legend speaks of a possibility that love,                  
for creatures such as I, also exists.                  
Could it be that this fragile human                  
can be what my solitary existence                  
hath sought without knowing?                  
The choice, he will have to make,                  
without compulsion and born of the heart.                  
Being what I am, I could easily                  
make him love me, but it would destroy                  
his soul and be a lie I could not abide.                  
With all my faculties and supernatural abilities                  
I can only hope that he sees beyond my                  
despicable acts and my multitude of wrongs.                  
In my extended existence never, had I felt                  
this that now burdens me,                  
and, until this moment, had not known.                  
This feeling for a frail mortal                  
causes me trepidation, because surely,                  
this endeavor will never come to fruition.                  
                  
In the moment of this deep contemplation                  
the human awakes and observes me                  
with certain confusion.                  
His first questions are:                  
Who you are?  How did you enter?                  
Why have you come?                  
                  
I will not do you harm,I was only                  
observing your time of dreams.                  
I am called Mozelle, and I am,                  
to be sure, a terrifying                  
and bloodthirsty creature,                  
alas I cannot injure you                  
and that is somewhat perplexing.                  
What a novel sensation,                  
this feeling of refrain.                  
Something came to life within me,                  
when first your countenance, I did see.                  
Until this moment I knew not,                  
what was confusing me thus.                  
I came to clarify my doubts,                  
find the answers to the questions                  
that have plagued me with restless bouts                  
and, now that you are awake                  
I realize how much is at stake.                  
                  
From the first moment that I saw your face,                  
you introduced my dead heart to something                  
that could not possibly take place.                  
And now that the answers have come clear,                  
I will depart this place and lessen your fear.                  
I turned towards the window to exit…                  
(He whispers): "please do not go".                  
I hesitate; what must I do,                  
(I ask) to ease your mind?                  
It would easy to compel you not to fear,                  
but very difficult that you accept my love                  
and the eternity I wish to share.                  
This is a unique gift that I offer,                  
yet the decision is yours and,                  
your choice, sadly, I must obey.                  
But be warned to accept,                  
you should understand what it implies;                  
I will have to make you as I am,                  
to prolong your life. Together we will walk                  
through the passages of time,                  
discovering the intricacies of this love sublime.                  
She lowers her head in dread of the refusal                  
that surely she must come to expect.                  
                  
Finally he answers: "To wander in perpetuity,                  
a high price to pay for a love you                  
are not certain you can claim."                  
His heart races at the thought of her plight,             &n
This poem means too much to me for me to describe...
Jun 2013 · 964
What Forever Means
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
It wasn't that long ago
we were saying our good byes
but I never got to say thank you
for all the things that you taught me
most importantly what forever means
at least when it came to me and you
It means until you're tired
and don't want to play anymore
or until I'm useless
and you've got all your kicks
Was it forever until you're quit
or forever until you're bored
So tell me the truth
did you ever really care?
Did you love that boy you held?
Did you just use him like the others?
And toss him when he was spent?
Now in the end I know
that it's all for the best
We're both much happier
and moving on with our lives
but still the questions linger
like a shadow cast long before
for the life of me I'll never understand
how forever can be so brief
just until you're hurting
just until it's not easy anymore
or until someone better comes along
Is it forever until I'm broke
or forever until you let it die?
But tell me the truth
did any of it matter to you?
Or was it just another cheap thrill?
Was everything you said a lie?
Just like happily ever after and forever.
This poem resembles the moment when I leave poetry for a while... a long while...
My only wish is that this poem reaches over 1000 views. I want people to see how my life has changed from my first poem to my last. I want the world to know my name, Andrew T. Hannah, is not just another poet but is a new spirit in the world of creativity and artistry.
Apr 2013 · 856
Don't Fail to Try
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2013
I hit the floor hard, bruises on my feet
My heart pounds quickly, a steady drumbeat
A little bit of pain, boldness of perfection
Last chance now, one shot at redemption
Speed and agility, lightly on my toes
Swift in movements, we'll see how it goes
Sharp connections, light-speed thoughts
Tell myself repeatedly, give it all you've got
When the day is over, and the work is done
I'm proud to say, I really had fun
I didn't give up, through darkness or light
And in the end, I won the fight
Apr 2013 · 616
Chain Reaction
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2013
The searing pain surrounds me
I have to be strong now
Ready to face the end
After all, I chose this path
My wrongs, my fault
If I never told a lie
Sacrificed for others
Thought less about myself
Never broke her heart
Never abandoned them both
Now I only see black
They're giving up on me
I can hear them still
My conscience tells me to fight death
But I don't have the strength
Within myself, I begin to fade
They're telling her to leave
Why did she come?
I didn't deserve her
Now I can't even say goodbye
Apr 2013 · 284
Game of Hell
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2013
The time soon comes for all to end
Only when you are left with naught
Shall the true test begin

Loneliness with haunt your steps
Hatred and sadness swirl in your mind
Pain racks your body mercilessly

If you can overcome it
If you can survive it
You have passed the devils game
Apr 2013 · 536
Guardian Angel
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2013
When I was in the darkness
You led me to the light
When I was full of sadness
You made me feel joy
When anger was my companion
You calmed my raging fires
When I stood in the rain
You became my shelter
When I froze inside
You were my warmth
So many things you've done for me
So many I wish to do for you
You are my saviour
My knight in shining armour
The angel that appears
And chases away the dark ones
You are my life, my heart, my soul
And you have saved me from myself
Apr 2013 · 847
Shells
Andrew T Hannah Apr 2013
Nobody cares for a reject
The ones who break the mould
Only accepted by each other
Conformity seems to be true
The only way they smiled

But that will change
Difference will be welcomed
Try as they may
The clones will disappear
We shall be at peace

In order to make that happen
We have to stand up
Come together against the march
Gain our rightful place
And crack the mannequins open
Next page