Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
black skies stretch
in darkness, the clouds
dissolve into rain,
the night is lacquered
with varnish like
a wooden floor,
shiny and surreal -

it breathes of night
bird and the magnolia
light of the moon, quivers
and then is still, wraps us
in the mirrored waters of the stars.

the moon elevates
the night from darkness to
hypnotic light, bathes
the world in silver, flows
with our tears and our
softly spoken words,

transcends like lazarus
to a sky witnessed
through centuries,
loved and worn like
our favourite old clothes.
David Feb 2019
Waking up.
Cannot see.
Ords of skeletons
Guided to hell.
Cain kills Abel.
Pure children of white drenched and torn of red leaviathans.
A whole humanity slashed by blazing blood splattering.
Gatlings trespassing skulls and brains.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Young died.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Black sky
Drenched-by-venom eyes.
Hollow.
Your flag triturating bodies for metal shards.
I cannot see.
Nothing more.
Nothing more.
This is a poem about war, for my great-grandfather,
He fought in First World War.
Most of the people who survived the War were mutilated or crazy,
My great-grandpa was depressed,
When he came back home with his family
He didn't eat anything anymore and decided to suicide himself in that way, dying slowly.
Aaron LaLux Aug 2018
Come on man,
get with the program,
things are moving at a speed,
that's the opposite of a slow dance,

so no there's no time for negativity,
not at all not even a chance,
it's time to advance into the  21st Century,
we're no longer Cavemen & the Dark Ages have long ago passed,

& even though the Past has passed,
sometimes it still haunts our Collective Memory,
like that guy from Memento trying to count back to this moment now,
got the invitation long ago but still don’t know who sent for me,

but unlike that guy from Memento when I put back the pieces of the puzzle,
I hope I don't find a sick plot twist like discovering that I murdered my wife,
see sometimes we are our worst enemy plus memories can be tricky,
so I tread carefully as I retrace my steps that led me to this moment in time,

& I’m so fckn Emo for still dealing with these feelings,
of being in love with those that don't love me & pretending I don't give a fck,
even though I’m afraid of real emotions & afraid to show them & it shows,
so I guard my Heart’s ramparts & stand guard as my own Sentry ****,

& I'm just so over not being able to get over it that I'm sick to my stomach,

& of course I have regrets from my past,
& of course I have pain I mean who doesn’t have at least some of that,
but resilience is one of the main keys to not suffering defeat,
I mean at least not in the streets by the hands of a Broken Soldier in retreat,

or a Soulless body that sold it's soul to party or an Emotional Zombie,
both as outdated as the old Atari & sorry but I suggest you press delete,

& that's why I won't engage with any more enraged psychopaths,
I’ve been down that road before so now I know better than that,
no Sir, no Ma’am, instead, I am, on what, They call, The Path,
in a forward upwards onwards motion on a sorta sorted NoWarPath,

& you can go ahead & hashtag that,
if you want to attempt to invent a fad,
here I'll do it 1st & you can do it 2nd,
& hey 2nd isn't 1st  but hey it's also not last so really it's not bad,

#NoWarPath

don't want to rain down a shower of bullets,
would rather just take a bubble bath...

excerpt from The Holy Trilogy Vol. 2: Manadalas
available world wide here: www.amazon.com/dp/1721134158
Red Bergan Apr 2014
The time of peace,
Is a time of war.
With those of pain.

No trust.
No gain.
Just....
Pain.

— The End —