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AmyKatrinaSmith May 2022
Alone she sits upon her dusty throne.
Her eyes sunken and her long moth bitten gown hung lifeless to her ashen skin.
The unforgiving chime's of time pass her by. Dripping with jewels her boney hand still clung to the broken string of pearls as they roll between the cold stone cracks beneath her feet.
Secrets layed to rest long ago with no voice to tell.
She who has been long forgotten dwells in the silence of her chambers for all eternity.

Lost to the darkness.
Stan Oct 2019
He is fire
But that fire could be perfect fit for hell

Well,

don’t be tempted by the devil
Our kind of dance
would be forbidden whatsoever

Only if the devil agreed and took me to his chambers
loved me and cherished my existence

But he did not see, nor did he hear
He left me hanging to my tears
Maria Etre May 2019
Truth knocked on my heart
it hurt to hear its noise
I knew if I opened
I would never
be the same
again
we do it throughout
the night and
day
if we didn't we wouldn't
see our next
day

are you conscious of it
at the present
time
or are your thoughts
trained on another
chime

it inflates both of the chambers
quite
well
and after it does that it
will
expel

shallow and deep
are varieties of
it
so can you put
a finger on
it
Crystal Freda Sep 2017
Unseen chambers
in distant places.
New discoveries
in different paces.

Bound for freedom.
Unleashed for a journey.
A burning desire
stirring within me.
Liam C Calhoun Oct 2016
I wish to live, but in turn, learn to die.
When she longs to laugh, and somehow,

I cry –

So brewed the complacent,
Floating-waking dreams,
Withering with the wind,
And against it my screams.
Chase Gagnon Jan 2015
Hieroglyphs on my ancient soul
foretell the end of me,
they say I'll die by my own hand
when I’ve reached god status
and every knee has knelt
before me
and I have nothing left
to achieve.
This prophecy has been written
on me for many lives
each ended by a pill,
bullet, or brilliance  —
I can feel it.  
My fingers are my slaves
who type a pyramid of words
that'll hide my body
in a maze of *****-trapped metaphors
that no thief
would ever dare explore.
So shut me away
with my mummified poetry
so the gods in the next life
will worship me.
Let me hold the empty orange bottle
like a rosary in chalky hands
folded stiff
into forced prayer.
Let me rot away
and be forgotten
while my poetic pyramids
stand for thousands of years
in the sun.
Let tourists stand under their shadows
in awe
while my bones turn slowly
to dust
somewhere deep in the chambers
of their brilliance.
RW Dennen Oct 2014
I walk this dismal dark and damp dungeon
  Long dark the phantom am i;
Strolling I now take icy breaths;
  Mystery lies within my realm;
Far faint foot echoes announce my impending doom
  I embark upon my midnight
Echoeing chamber room
  It's chains that puppeted victims that had
Screamed for their end and at last,
  I had giggled laughed and touched their quivering chest
And felt their fading warmth
  Then into oblivion casted they were by me

This dark stone its chilling floor
  Where rodents squeek and scurry about,
My only pets and friends I know

Suddenly I hear as HEAVY VOICES of my approaching DOOM
  POUNDING FISTS and swinging logs against my dungeon door and room

I curse the empending light by
Their torches casting beams
Bound from hell and its slithering horrid beam fingers
  Under my dungeon door

I curse my end by angered pounding fists
  Hell bound to see my end to be

What cursed blackened night just lies
  A distant short,
A breathless world my oblivian beckons me by hounds
  Of DOOM,
My parts be scattered h e l t e r  s k e l t e r
  My inners thrown upon old wooden beams above

Soon i will leave this loveless world i made,
  i foretell and kiss only an empty space goodbye,  
Waiting first ****** deep within my flesh to be
Tis a morbid "Halloween Tale"

— The End —