The heavens mourned
   in my stead love.

They railed and rent
   themselves through,
   in the deep knell of the thunder,
   and the flashing light of the lightning
   as it struck in all its fiery promise.

The gods themselves
   wept my tears, my love.

Rivers upon rivers
  from those fickle immortals,
  for where they are,
  they were moved.

Because I mourned you
   my love,
I mourned you.
I mourned you,
  so deep.

But I was too far
  from my eyes to weep.
Cut off from my arms
  that I could not tear my
Closed off from my throat
  so the world would never
  hear the banshee in my wail.

For as my body mourned,
My soul sought you.
It reached out ,
  to Hades Realms
  if that was where you went.

It asked
   why would you leave us here?
   this body of mine and
   it's soul.

So I could not weep
   and I could not wail.

And so the heavens,
   they mourned for me.

Erebus The Greek underworld, in mythology, is an otherworld where souls go after death, and is the original Greek idea of afterlife. At the moment of death the soul is separated from the corpse, taking on the shape of the former person, and is transported to the entrance of the Underworld. It is not Hell but the afterlife.

Rest well, you were loved. written 13/7/2017 on your funeral

It's in the way that we live our mortality
That we become immortal.


M•(e). Díaz

Because I believe we all live immortal in the way we touch someone, and in our works as artists and writers.

when the chemicals stop flowing,
the mortal self surrenders its existence to the soil.

Each cup of nectar
for me you filled
tasted different,
but did just the same.
transported my spirit
out of the planet,on
ethereal wings of light.
Every time I drank it
I swooned and forgot,
everything other than
the love you poured.

Inebriated by a love
I never had a chance
to define,I can't think
you and I as two
entities different,
my lover immortal.
No other lover
would have done
what you to me is doing
You absence as a  person
never did bother me
you are the one reigning
within, wordlessly speaking
I can see your eyes gleaming
the moment, I just think of you

PoetryJournal Jun 23

Light feels the burden of debt
when indebted
to love.

thank you poets for all your love and support
Sam D Jun 19

Surreal attraction and a maddening obsession
Unfolding that mixture along with penalties
Toxic environment of love and passion
Bringing an unwarranted pragmatism
Signature of that merited guilt, sparks
Protecting her realistic breaths
Escaping from her wined ones
Her last plea to keep us alive, eternally
I looked into her eyes, longingly
An only urge of reaching the surface..

Unknown tracing of my caresses
On an absent sense of her lips
It sure has happened, my lover
A raw sort of death, I think
A severe need of a refresh
Unable to touch her flesh
Reality's trap surrounding slowly
Carbonated silences spreading
As our souls erode
No particles of peace
Demise of a quaint immortality..

We're going under, ultimately
From crimson to carmine, circulating
Hearts are bleeding colors, profusely
Only for you..
Only for me..
Maybe with a perchance
In a distant future
They’ll delve us up
Only to find
Our spirits yet intertwined..

Reaching for a light
that cannot be had,
For it is but a mirage
hanging in the Blackness.

She dreams of a new way
to live the life she has forgotten,
Hoping to be released from
a life not worth remembering.

But a life of immortality
does not come with that choice.
A life without death is empty,
there's nothing to value when there is nothing to lose.

She is free to live her life
anyway she shall choose,
Yet she will spend eternity
reaching for that light.

I look into those watery
eyes, I see years of pain
upon your face; not a
breath could calm the

All the stories of those
who have mortality,
traveling through time
and space; not one of
them stays alive.

never felt so uncomfortable
in all of this life
as this drunken woman
tried to touch me,
I wanted to exit the situation
exit the world
this life

lost the drugs
the girl
the will to live, even

got in a fight with
my friend’s bf
he was a bitch;
I am too:
‘do you want me to stomp your throat in…?!’
‘yes, please, do it’
‘you need help, dude…’ voice, weak, whimpering: a lion in sheep’s clothing –
courageous coward
Yes, I need help
But from where, from who?
Since I am no help to myself

my hands are old
a soul older than trees dying
in the cascades
I see the cracks
in the pavement like
the wrinkles and age on my hands
the cuts, scrapes
from prior fuck-ups

is this life even worth anything;
can I make something out of myself?
or am I fated to wrong turns,
late nights spent alone:
burning bridge after bridge
until the last one I cross
brings me only into the valley of Nothingness
a meadow of good intentions
festooned between the sorrow & pain

I feel dead already
maybe I am dead, already
maybe this, this is the hell
but I just cannot seem to tell…

burning bridges like the
ring of fire,
standing in the middle, warm hurt
unrelenting misery
prolonging the despondency

walking into oncoming traffic,
calmer than the sea
after storms which brewed
ill feelings darker, more solemn
than espresso in nightly abysses

from the cemetery, I
walked docilely –
bizarrely, with purpose –
into the headlights of the end
into the tunnel awaiting
the frigid waters of indifference
to soothe angst hidden,
masked in cheap smiles
& shallow glances

burning bridges like
the ring of fire until
the last one I cross
brings me to a final
denying the good
denying the pure innocent
nights spent alone
on Saturdays, sadder than
a man in isolation
on desolation row, peering
into abstruse darkness
waiting for the rain
waiting to be taken
care of until they see the shackles
the prison
of a person
derailing everything around:
a Maida’s touch of black
things corrupted with malice
tortured flowers
brittle hours
waiting to be brought
into Tomorrowland
since today’s paper is
already meaning less
than it did this morning

working for a paycheck
to be spent for others
mostly on myself, though;
work, tomorrow…
cannot think or eat
think anything that will change
these wicked ways
eat anything that will transform
lonely days spent awake, desolate
irresolute dreams
about the obsolescence of
incandescent lanterns
break and fade
fading faster faster faster
until they all surmise
what has just happened

monstrous groan coupled with hopeless sigh…
let me out
of this cage:

waiting for the rain

waiting for the rain

oh, how we wait for the rain!

Jorge Palileo Apr 18

A poet's power;
By my pen, I will grant you

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