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SabreLi Dec 2016
I had no idea
Until it happened, how much pain I’d feel
Each and every day
I think about you, ‘bout what I would say
If I got another chance
But chance ain’t on my side
And no matter how hard I try
I just can’t get you off my mind

I keep trying to be a bigger person
It’s not working, inside I just keep hurting

And through your rose tinted glasses
You may think that the grass is
Greener on the other side
And so you say goodbye
Think it’s your time to fly

But colour doesn’t always mean
Beauty, hope and evergreen
So I cannot let you go
And the harder you pull
The harder I will hold

If I could turn back time
I’d do whatever that would save your life
I’d stay by your side
Remove the pain and tears from your eyes
If I got another chance
But chance ain’t on my side
And no matter how hard I try
I just can’t get you off my mind

I keep trying to be a bigger person
It’s not working, inside I just keep hurting

And through your rose tinted glasses
You may think that the grass is
Greener on the other side
And so you say goodbye
Think it’s your time to fly

But colour doesn’t always mean
Beauty, hope and evergreen
So I cannot let you go
And the harder you pull
The harder I will hold

All I feel is guilt
Stuck in the shadow of the hole you built
Wish that you were still
Around me but I know you’ve grown your wings
You won’t get another chance
Cause chance has left your side
And no matter how hard I try
All that’s left is to say goodbye

Copyright ©2016-2017 KF
Written after the loss of a friend who died by their own hand.
<soft spoken intro>

Descended to the pit,
and threatened the Seven,
demanded back He,
the light of heaven...


Threatened curse upon life,
no more babies born!
Sent back with her hero,
but cursed for Her scorn.


And there's no light...

<musical intro>

<tempo>
Din-nant, uh-un, Din-nant

loud
And I'm prowling...

<tempo>
Din-nant, uh-un, Din-nant

louder
OUT AT NIGHT!

<tempo>
Din-nant, uh-un, Din-nant

And I'm prowling...
Out at night!
And I'm prowling...
Out at night!

The shades come calling,
darkness crawling,
heroes fallen,
females sullen...
and, uh, and uh,

<tempo>
Din-nant, uh-un, Din-nant

...there's no light.

Louder
THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!

There's no light.

<musical break>

And I'm prowling...
Out at night!
And I'm prowling...
Out at night!
And I'm prowling...
Out at night!

Where is the Sun?
Pain has begun,
fearing the One...
heroes fallen,
Nightmare calling...
...there's no light.

THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!

There's no light.

Raised of the Earth,
from blood in the dirt,
screams to be heard.
And there's no light...
...there's no light.

THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!
THERE'S NO LIGHT!

There's no light...

There's no light.

AND I'M PROWLING...
Out at night!
And I'm prowling...
Out at night!
And I'm prowling...
Out at night!

There's no light...

...there's no light.
Ishtar, Astarte, Easter threatened the gods with a curse on all mortal life stopping babies from being born and rising the dead to inhabit the earth if they did not give her back her lover.

They did as she asked and the vampire was born.
Amanda Shelton Oct 2016
I woke with chills
shivering down my spine,
like a scratchy shadow
clawing at my skin,
I trimmer from within.

My fears consume
and devour,
as my mind goes sour.

These night’s I fight with monsters
from my nightmares,
deeper and deeper
I slowly approach
my darkest dreams,
only to find my tortured screams.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Happy Halloween everyone. This one's written just for the creepy holiday coming on October 31. I am excited.
Mozalios Sep 2016
When you look at the night sky
see my despair
And dream on
to remember when you wake
because I'll be there
The ghost of despair
This poem is from my book "The dark poetic march" (TBR 2017)
I wrote it because I hope that those who cause despair remember the agony they have caused.
Aaron LaLux Sep 2016
Las Meninas

Dementia makes a great creator,
sacrifice your sanity for the greater splendor,
it’s interesting how insanity makes a great inventor,
all the greatest were/are/will be crazy now and forever,

just ask this to Francis Ford Coppola the director,
or bat ****t (no disrespect but pun intended) Christian bale the actor,
or Vincent van Gogh who cut his ear off all creative geniuses are tortured,
so I suppose Picasso's no different in his portraits of torment as a painter,

what a mad medium the Expressive Arts are,
as if every artistic creation is it’s own emotional provocateur,
a window to the soul of a lunatic lit by the light of the moon,
and shown through the manifestation of a painting in living color,

abstract dualities uncovered,
a crack in the cement of our foundation,
the wooden frame of our reality begins to splinter,
like window panes in the winter open to interpretation,

ascending,
up a spiral staircase into the attic of an artistic addicts mind,
find some time then misplace it,
then replace it with a twist of fate and sprig of thyme,

face it fate is what we face when we're outta excuses and out of time,

I’m,

writing words,
like oil painted on canvas,
in a race no one wins,
even those with the most advantage,

brush strokes,
art works,
we are all tainted,
just look,
at Picasso,
and all the pain he painted,

this is the ballad of the obscene lick the palette clean and get wasted,

drunk in love,
under the influence of,
colors of pastels and multi tones,
high off life,
we’ve got a show tonight,
but for now I write in verbose undertones,

at the Picasso Museum in Barcelona,
in an insane world only crazy love seems sensible,
with Jay and Beyonce they say the circles get smaller you go,
and we’re at the top of the pyramid circle so small it’s a point at the pinnacle,

paining portraits in our own ways,
some sing some dance some actually paint,
and I’m not the Devil that that accuse me of being,
but I’m also not exactly a patron saint,

paint,
a portrait of this torture,
name,
it ‘Maids of Honor',

create,
an entire series of misery and maybe it will be your zenith,
make,
Hell as beautiful as Heaven & then when it’s finished call it Las Meninas,

then release it all and they will call you a gothic prophet an artistic genius,

love the art,
but not the artist,
love the hate,
but not the haters,
love heart,
but not what it harbors,
love the work,
but not the workers,

people love,
what they’re told to love,
like people love Picasso,
because that’s what they’re told,

rarely is greatness recognized,
while the artist is still alive,
no one wants to take the time,
to truly appreciate and recognize,

and speaking of time I know I’m late,
but better late and I apologize for my lateness,
but a true creative type can’t be rushed or hushed,
so please if you want to receive you must have that virtue called patience,

life is the canvas passions the paint it’s time for action let us paint this…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆
Picasso Was Fckn Insane... ∆
Mozalios Aug 2016
The despair that you shared, the trust that you've earned, the tears of fear only the crow will know
The lives that are missed, blurred vision bliss, what lies in the distance beyond the line of sight only the crow will know
True reason brought disgrace within this place of hollow souls that walk the earth alone leaving a trace that only the crow will know
Promising everything will be alright only to be telling the lies of a thousand times, the truth only the crow will know
Lost the meaning of how a life can become whole only the crow will know
If you've lived a life of honesty or if it was an atrocity only the crow will know
The purest souls the crow will seek the foulest souls are the devils meek
Only the crow will know my true sorrow
Only the crow will know how to bring me back to you
Mozalios Aug 2016
Plot of Death
Screams of Tragedy
Vengeance of Man
Flight of Crows
The tale of a tortured soul
Overcome with vengeful woe
Driven by the Crow
To avenge
An angel’s soul
SøułSurvivør Aug 2016
It was a dark and stormy night
The moon was like a ghost
New, it was a sliver
Misty. Foggy. Lost.

Lightning all around it
Dancing on the breeze
Thunder took it in its arms
To Tiptoe Through the Trees

Liquid glinted on its face
Flowed down to cheek and jowl
A madman's laugh arose from it
As the wind began to howl

Yes, if raindrops are as tears to him
They are tears of Mirth
For he looks down upon us fools

*And laughs for all he's worth!
Thanks again Hello Poetry!

It's 12:30... time for shut eye... =_=

Goodnight all!

-
Vincent S Coster Aug 2016
The metal blade
That kissed your skin
Will nor remove the pain
Nor form scars
To match the ones
Formed by betrayal upon
Your heart
The seeping blood
So crimson
Enticing
Will not wash away  
They way that tears do
The sadness you may feel
Spent on people who
Mistreat you
But they are fools
And so beneath you
And their razor blade tongues
Cut into you
But you will rise above
Their hurtful words
Like blood red roses
In the snow
And from the ashes of  
Your broken self
We'll see the fire of  
Your beautiful spirit
And we'll have roses for ashes then

*© 2011 Vincent S. Coster
Taken from the 2011 Gothic pamphlet Nocturnes. Based on the poet's own experience of self-harm in this poem he is speaking to all who are driven to hurt themselves but does this by using the device of writing to an undisclosed individual.
Death's rose touches everyone's heart
But only once
Because the moment his petals caress your soul,
You're life
is over
.
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