Anton Michael: Poems

1.9k · Feb 2011

Anton Michael Feb 2011

Ever so softly, ever so sweet,
I listen to your heart, it's slow, slow little beat.
I brush your hair cutely over your ear
listening to that beat, soon to disappear.
Lying softly, lying sweet,
I watch you twitch, cutely wiggling your feet.
with your eyes wide open and your mouth dripping red,
softly and sweetly my job here is done,
on your cute little bed.

1.1k · Feb 2011

Hitman

Anton Michael Feb 2011

Hitman

Pay me, I ****,
Pay me, I ******,
Pay me, I slaughter,
Pay me, I butcher.
Dark was my past, dark is my future;
A mindlessly violent, blood-seeking vulture.
Seldom messy (nearly always discreet),
I slice up the flesh, the bones and the meat.
They might hear you cry, they might hear you weep;
Crying and weeping yourself into sleep.
Should I receive a contract bearing a name,
I know it's the start of yet another game. . .
Aye, me!
Too many I've butchered,
Too many I slew,
Too many I've murdered;
wouldn't even remember you-
but there is one, to my utter dismay,
I would never forget:
the one and the only one that ever got away. . .

940 · Feb 2011

Freedom

Anton Michael Feb 2011

Freedom

Raised and bound into an indomitable religion,
it is sad to be you; narrow-minded, selfless pigeon.
So sanctimonious, looking down your nose at me;
so prudish, thinking you are better than me.
You suspect me of soliciting with Satan, Bel and Legion
just because I do not share your vision
-yet, still, you yearn to ask me: ''how does it feel to be free?''
well, sever your wings, burn your halo and you tell me.

900 · Feb 2011

The Fog

Anton Michael Feb 2011

The Fog

Covering, smothering your land like a shroud;
sneakily, silently, making not a sound.
Don't panic, don't hide, don't try to disappear,
don't even try to flee - it is of no use, my dear.
Ghostly, ethereal, otherworldly, unholy;
there can't be light without darkness - THIS was His folly.

So hearken! Ye holymen!
Hearken! Ye sinners!
Hearken! Ye losers!
Hearken! Ye winners!
Hark now here, beings of white, black and red:
where do you run to when Earth wants you dead. . .?

635 · Feb 2011

I Love You, Sadly.

Anton Michael Feb 2011

I Love You, Sadly.

I Would Never Love Someone

I never would. Love is the origin of weakness- and heartbreak; sadness. I couldn't risk becoming weak. I couldn't risk loving someone. I didn't want to. I couldn't risk having my heart broken. I didn't want to. Until I met you.

I Would Never Love You.

I never would have. You were the origin of my weakness- and my heartbreak; my sadness. I couldn't risk losing you, ergo I couldn't risk loving you- but I did. You were everything I needed; you were the only one I needed. Every time i saw you . . . sigh
I didn't want to love you; I didnt want to lose you. But I already met you.

I Would Never Love Again

I won't. Love was the origin of my weakness- my heartbreak; my sadness. I didn't want to risk losing you, but I loved you and I lost you. I didn't want to. I never wanted my heart broken but at least it was broken because of YOU. I didn't want to love you. I wish I never met you.

I Love You

I wanted to get over you, I did. I hoped; I prayed; I wished- but to no avail. You did not see how you were killing me. You never knew how I felt and I couldn't have told you. I wanted to hate you instead; to forget about loving you.

But I Still Loved You

I will never get over you. Never. This is not love. You are not love. This is a curse. You are a curse. My curse. All I need is for you to love me back- if only for a little while. I would die for you. I would do anything for you- to be with you.

I Love You, Sadly.

556 · Feb 2011

A Small White Cross.

Anton Michael Feb 2011

A Small White Cross.

In my honour, they have erected monuments of solid gold
for all to see; the young, the lively, the dying, the old.
I've lived for the glory, I've lived for the fame;
Day-to-day life has never been the same:
they cheer my name when I walk down the street,
they rush to my aid should my heart merely skip a beat-
but my time here on Earth is at an end
and yet still I'm revered as ''God's best friend''.
I have received enough attention, now it's time I stepped down;
passing on the legacy, the scepter, the crown-
but, before I do,
I must implore you:
mourn my death and mark your loss
with nothing more than a small white cross.

— The End —