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We are made of music
we call to storms by will alone
our kind are out of the ballpark
yes us, of the Gothic and Dark

Our banners are many
our loyalty confounding
it's a close community of beauty
as we scribe drinking after dark

So many intelligent writers out there
in that dark and gothic stance
my love for dark poetry
is truly my inky romance

Being burned to my grave
I perishish yet still will rave
being honest and stark
to my love of the gothic and dark

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
 Jul 2014 S Smoothie
GaryFairy
No direction, dressed in distress
suppressed by excess of regret
expected infection, hard to digest
a left mess that's best to forget

projected wreck is yet to accept
object of the reflected effect
where defective breath has wept
I rest in the echo of my neglect
Tucked away in the crevices of my mind,
Are shades of sorrow you left behind.
Memories of joy and sweet contentment,
Innocent of hate and bitter resentment.
Initiating as friends who desired affection,
Enthralled by lust and blind to speculation
From those whom regarded it all "too soon",
To prove them right and close in June.

Six months of sweet, indolent days,
Precious as the next due to the simple way
Your presence alone kept me elated,
Your revered wit held me captivated.
The moments we shared basking in the sun,
Or curling with the kittens - equally as fun.
The hushed inertia of our days spent together
Was not irksome and dull but treasured forever.

I can adopt adjectives, embellishments and rhyme,
In the child-like hope they may turn back time.
I can exhaust poetry as a means to say
That I miss you more each day.
But should you read this, I pray you must know
That the colourless wave of self-pity and woe
Brightens and shallows with every passing day,
And that our precious moments are pocketed away
In the warm embrace of my broken heart,
Slowly mending now that we are apart.
Like a phoenix rising from ash-glistened coal,
I will grow from the embers and rejuvenate my soul.
I will rise again and start anew,
And cherish the days I shared with you.
This is a tribute to someone who left me recently. I am not bitter or resentful but grateful for our time together. Writing this has helped me to mend and move on, and realise that some paths are meant to cross.
 Jul 2014 S Smoothie
chimaera
Vacant.
An empty house.
Seldom glimpsed.
Unsuitable.
Ineligible for love.
 Jul 2014 S Smoothie
SG Holter
Reach
 Jul 2014 S Smoothie
SG Holter
One lover's hand reaches for her
Lover's humble question,
Another's travels slowly across
The impression of her body;  
Ghostweight on matress from
Miles away in mind and matter.

She embraces new scent,
Hands once bored now learn
Warmth and texture that once
Too will feel  
Too familiar,

While another reaches for a quill
And another and
Another to write himself wings
That span
Across time and tragedy,
To fly him too close to the truth

Of why he never could write
Himself to
A safe landing on firm
Fact, but rather spin images of
Coloured in connections between
Dots to form elequent
Lies such as:

"I'll never want another,"
"This will scar my soul forever,"
"I cannot live wthout her,"
and
"She'll never want another."

A fading faint figure on the horizon.
Slow motion flash backs of days and
Days and days to slow, sensitive
Music. Yesterdays all, for my own good,
Completely and utterly

Out of my reach.
I'm getting happier about
It with
Every
Passing
Heartbeat.
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