The love I had for you

Made the Gods jealous

But the pain you gave me

Made the Devil laugh

He said my name like an oath.

I said his like a war cry.

We met in the ruins of reason,

and built something holier from chaos.


He wore the moon in his eyes;

silver light and tides that pulled me under.

I gave him the sun,

burned my hands just to keep him warm.


We weren't star-crossed,

we were conjured.

Some cruel myth breathed us alive,

then turned its back and laughed.


We stole time from the fates.

Danced in Hades’ garden,

bathed in river Styx,

stuck out our tongues

as the gods crossed their arms.

He held my soul in his teeth

like a prayer too sacred to swallow.


And when the sky cracked,

we didn’t flinch.

We were the storm and the silence,

the prophecy and the curse.


Let the poets argue if it was love.

Let the priests deny it with trembling hands.

Let the world remember -

we are unforgiven

for making the heavens jealous.

Behold this sand of time
As the shores of despair
Roll in to sneak it into the depths
Dark is the abyss of a sleepless dream
Where madness is one name away

Dare you speak it

Cthulhu

Wrap me in your endless tendril maw,
Devour soul from flesh
And discard the pickled husk
Let me fade away in shadow
To see your grace,
O’ Old one

Spread madness in a holy word
Eviscerate this world —
Feed it to the void and all its twilit chaos

And then I wake —
Somewhere between a dream and a distant realm
I will come as a herald,
To ring the end of timelines
To bind my mind to singularity.

My fate is my own,
Under the huntress moon,
Into the valiant sun,
‘Cross the diamond caves of night
And the blue oceans of day
I will not be misled.

Crater and crevice,
Your surface yet sheathes,
A heart still beating, A core still aching,
For you have been torn,
Asunder your whole,
Her hands sent you tumbling,
Cast into the light,
You traveled past boundaries,
Oh great god of flight,
But this, you knew, would be your last fight.

Your surface ripped clean,
Yet you still endure,
Through frigid cold, through torrid heat,
Your surface still sheathes,
A heart still heating, A core still quaking,
Your form it still breathes,
You have melted, You have hardened,
Yet you still stand firm,
Shrunken and shaped, yet standing tall,
The smallest god still of iron will.

Krater and kylikes,
Do drink, Dear god, from silver sheen,
While time does move, and remakes, removes,
Temples and hymns once shouted to you,
Forgotten not, though lost to name,
For in the heavens, you do remain,
A pinprick framed by a praising sun,
Oh swift-tongued god, now etched in night,
Unshaken still, you burn so bright.

We do not sleep. Our all-seeing eyes do not close to rest.
Our ethereal bodies don’t have such mundane needs.

But we do dream.
Vivid imaginations are one of our token traits.
Through our dreams, we create schematics and prototypes.
We test theories and explore ideas in our superconscious minds.

After all, human…
What is mankind if not
a dream that the gods
decided to write down
in dirt and blood?

They'll hurt you darling,
But only if you let them.
They'll burn you down,
But only because you're beautiful.
They'll mock your song,
But only for the fact they've never known their own sound.
In time darling, they will love you as well.

twin just pop up,
In my life , I want you to just pop up,
you reflect in women that don't like us,
you reflect in women that don't like us,
Resort to lesbianism because they hurt,
But soon find out that women lie too,
what has a god done to you?
I use my words to grow these flowers in vowels to
Show case them in front of people that don't allow us
freedom of speech cause they cowards,
I used them now to bring love back to the black community.
☯️full poem in link below c/p

©abpoetry2025

Setting at the desk, looking out my window,
It’s a cold, winter day, the sun’s rays are being blocked,
By a solid wall of white clouds, floating over my head today.
Some of the snow is melting, into water, the pure white beauty,
Now memories, in Maxwell’s Creek, floating away.

As I stare across, Schaubert’s Bridge, I can see a bare area,
On the southern edge of, Schooley’s Woods, where,
Many birds, are searching for worms, in the ground today,
The squirrels, scampering to the nuts, they buried,
How do they remember where they, planted them,
In those late, fall days?

Everything, is so peaceful, when joined to together,
Creates a picturesque site to see,
So much beauty, remember, God created everything,
Including, all of the living creatures, to come to life, and be.

                                          The original Tom Maxwell  © 1/18/2025 A. D.