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Joseph Aaron Apr 2016
Look over where the flowers grow
  Watch the men at work in their glow.

Under the carnations, tulips, lilies and a rose
  There lies a headstone of marble and tears.

It's worn face tells of years in throes
  The respite inside saw the setting sun in fear.

Wilted were the flowers with limp petals
  No sign of the hands that laid them in mettle.

In dusk there came creatures of comfort
   When beautiful silence encroached the earth.

The deftly moving hands of fate wandered in the night
    Searching for the opportunity of a strange plight.

They were strange and forgotten without notice
   Their marble hearts stole the souls of warmth that drunk from its chalice.  

The twilight of the darkness caressed the sky
     As men were asleep near their hearths.

The soul that rested in the cold ground knew the silence's cry,  
   The beautiful silence that despised the light and it's worth.

Where a cold soul has worth in the sea of the cursed,
     When the light left death to revel in warmth.
#warmth #light #darkness #death #twilight #dusk #soul #flowers
Joseph Aaron Apr 2015
It was upon the whim of an ancient cataclysm,
  That brought forth the faith of naturalism.

The praying of saints and sinners alike, whether in the grave or still full of life.
  A judge of true light to be heralded as grand,
  Receives the effort of an avenging plight.

Remember in darkness where the truth lies, as it lies in the beholder's eye.
  Trick our souls into feeling the withering cause of death.
With one last stroke we shall take expel our breath.

Break down these barriers and how they exist,
  Make all divinity crash down with it.
What gods may conquer, they shall never control.
     For the armies of faith and secularism will be in turmoil.
Joseph Aaron Jan 2015
The words lost in the  cacophony of deranged souls from the void,
They call out to me in need and look for a place to bleed.
   Whereas their spirit sinks into the earth to be forgotten.

But forgive me not as I take your vitality and whither it away,
Like the leaves in the dying season of fall turning to winter placing us in the fray.

Punish what is seen and not told, similar to the blind man's aspirations of sense twice fold.
Beat upon this golden armor and wash away the dirt,
For being a brother to me in this world is there the pain shall spur.

But as I envision a perfect world together,
There comes the reality of a horrid, deathly endeavor.
No more sight within this broken lens,
All the blurred cracks shall repeat again.

Listen to these souls of a world gone dark and dreary,
  Let this weary forsaken soul become human and bleed with feeling.
Joseph Aaron Dec 2014
Fallen angels rise
The lost bury their sorrow
The dead rise again
Joseph Aaron Dec 2014
Beyond the lurid hills of wonder and the mirror lake,
  A land of livelihood and mirthful wake.

Where seraphim touch the facade of nature's beauty,
   Where nephilim perform their sacred duty.

The vast expanse of ethereal asunder,
  The demons quake in its peaceful slumber.

A paradise for few where the holy once held,
  Now the desires to consecrate purposes will meld.

The fruitful trees of an innocuous test,
  Which hold the desires of men in its breadth.

The wary traveler dare not stay,
  For in the garden will you shy away.
Breathe the breath of a thousand days,
  Yearn for the fruit from an eternal wage.

The garden of life, the garden of sages.
  The angels will call, and to the cull shall sin fall.
  Nov 2014 Joseph Aaron
clouds of words
from places diverse
come floating to the sky, soaking my heavy mind

they are unconnected and meaningless
stray birds wingless
kept in cage of isolation, no relation to find

when brought together
held close by a tether
they mix up to join, combine and bind

then in a pattern they flow
rise high, fall low
dancing with passion, in a rhythmic fashion aligned

a story they tell
in my thoughts that does dwell
feelings get expression, sincere confession, to soul they're affined

not seeking perfection
but creativity and introspection
my humble quill, tries to spill, colors of several  kind

my flawed verse is terse
in emotions it's immersed
it portrays a view, connects with you, as my heart unwinds
Inspired from 'When you write' by Pradip Chattopadhyay.
I guess this is how I write poems.
Joseph Aaron Nov 2014
Fear of absolution, relishing of hindrance.
  A wall of black, darkness that rests within
  To fall under blistering defeat to reiterate the blood red scrolls of sin.

Decimate remains of a hallowed grave,
  Torment and desire to those who strayed.
Falter under knowledge of an atrocious cause,
Beg for the black widow to hear you call.

Succumb to the temptation of a lustrous quintessence,
  Grasp at the hot wind of a deserts blast.
Underestimate the repudiation of the reserved contrast,
To be forever forgotten, but to always last.
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