Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
AJ
sad, sleepless, lonely nights are not my friend.
I suppose putting the painful thoughts on paper could do wonders for my mind,
but no poem can make my demons disappear.
sadness comes in waves, and if I don't get thrown a life vest soon,
the waves will swallow me whole, pulling me under piece by piece until I'm nothing of a shell of a human body who once could fake a smile.
making a pen bleed out my words is better than a blade bleeding them from my wrist,
but the thought still consumes me.
I'm terrified that one of these days the blade will grab hold of me
and there won't be any turning back. one of these days,
the blade won't just trace my skin in a desperate attempt for crimson,
it will dig in
and I'll just be another scar.
I'm not even sad anymore.
(title is a tøp song title)
Life, itself,
is the finest
of all the Arts.

All the others
simply enrich
this cosmic and
ephimeral Art
of Life, itself.

Make no rash mistake;
that is not to belittle any;
but, rather is it intended
to show due reverance
to each and every last one.

All Art is Sacred.
Any act done with Love is Art.

Written on break at work. Dishwashing.
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
Jasmin
Dead End
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
Jasmin
Most things are transient
We will never know when this one ends,
Defy the rules to create memories
Forget the world, build your own wish.

Paint the walls, scream your thoughts
Dreams may not come true, at least you fought
Cover the red ink with a cloth
It’ll stain, they would know if they sought.

Don’t close your eyes until dawn
We still have time, we’ll reach it soon
Enjoy the night, dance to the tune
When it’s over, let it be known.
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
Marci Ace
A young heart with an old soul
How can there be peace?
How can I be in the depths of solitude
When there are two inside of me?
This duo in me causes the perfect opportunity
To learn and live twice as fast
As those who accept simplicity...

©2pac
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
Kush
I feel your agony and make it my own
I see your smile and mirror the expression
It’s almost impossible for me to stop
To cease draining the emotions of others
Simply because I am numb
Unfeeling towards my own existence
I am an empath with fangs shining
Feasting to restore my humanity
In tune with everyone’s mind
Unsure of my own
I am a reservoir of emptiness
A connoisseur of consuming souls
An emotional vampire
You the moon,
are a warrior;
the finest I know.
Despite the heaviness of darkness
(that rests on your shoulders)
each night you arise anew
(to fight a battle you haven't chosen)
and cut through the darkness,
with your silver sword
(of courage and love).

You the moon,
are an angel;
I'm sure of that!
You are the helping hand for many
(your light pulls up hopless soles)
as strong melodies play from the distance
(carried within magical runes)
while you shine your beauty upon us,
that is felt with the heart
(by those who listen).

Oh moon,
I look up to you;
in such wonder.
Legends and myths are woven around you
(some told by wolves, others by the wind)
you are a mystery never to be fully uncovered
(yet every night a little more)
but all of your faces are friends of mine,
and I smile whenever I see a glimpse
(of you, the amazing moon).
In honor of you, Kira.
I hope my small candle light
makes the night a little brighter...

Ps. Isn't patience rewarding? ;D
 Sep 2015 nicoarty
Skaidrum
"    Legend has it,
      he could talk the sun
          into setting.    "

    He's a tragedy the zodiacs still gossip about,
               metal wounds glower by the fire,
    flames sneering at druid flesh,
                  crystal bones are decaying,
    wrapping willow branches along my neck~

             Love isn't a prophecy.

Telling time to ghosts who cannot read,
      these shadows ache in the pupils of sunlight~
Lupus showers us in dire blessing;
         so start lighting the torches of war from Osiris,
he's illiterate in your dead language of poetry,

      I can't help but notice you don't pick fights with death anymore.

There's no sunlight on this side of history,
       spider webs become cave paintings to gods~
look north for the tails of dragons and hurricanes,
   cast your doubts to frigid chambers and feverish graves;
A prayer for the day we have no names to mourn,

           His loyalty falters as autumn grows sicker.

You've melted golden eyes upon heavens in ink,
        and he's crippling under silver lightning again;
masquerading demonic skin plastered in snow,
        is a game you like to play to injure gods,
an incredible contradiction between love and lies...

     Pick your poison wisely, wolf girl.

So there's been a few contracts with the dead,
          I swapped my soul with Lupus,
bargained my sins with Sirius,
          traded these miracles with Artemis,
as eight sapphire flames bleed this heart dry from it's curse;

     Don't **** your hopes for the greater good.

Illusions are born when nightmares grow lonesome,
         if the book of the moon spells traitor and betrayal,
then these sinister rouges cannot quell what's been written.
        Our love song was a dark sonata drenched in lead;
discard the sounds that tremble in pianissimo~

    An omen of war divided Yin from Yang.

I'm forcing fangs to ripen by first light,
       while tricking secrets into fusing with fairy tales.
Auburn daggers whine to slither deeper,
      into the spines of star crossed lovers;
beating on drums of moonlight to call me to this world;

    Grief and mosaics relapse in my palms tonight.


"     The birth of a lapis sword
               plunged in the stone
                           of her wolven
                                         heart.      "

"Sometimes love makes puppets of darkness out of all of us.*"
The crow ain't worth much.

<><><>    © Copywrite Skaidrum     <><><>
Tip-tap, tip-tap.
Steps. All around me.
Tip-tap, tip-tap.
Steps. Following me.

Eyes. I saw eyes.
A lot of them.
Hundreds of them.
Eyes do watch...

This is no wind; those are words.
Whispering words.
Knowing words.
Words that hunt me.
Those are their words.

Those creatures have ears.
They can listen, and they do.
Closely.
They hear everything.

How do I hide?
      How do I hide?
            How do I hide?

I'll have to blend in, that's it!

They will overlook me;
they won't follow.
They will overhear me;
they won't talk.

I will just have to be
like them.

(But not really...
because I don't hear,
like them.
I don't see,
like them.

Because I'm too busy

hiding)
So are they. People really have better things to do, then to play "creepy little creatures" that lurk in the shadows and constantly give us a mark out of ten, for every single move we make. They don't do that, you can relax :)

Ps. That poem got inspried by the video: #DearMe Lindsey Stirling
Next page