German- Vampir
French- Vampire
English- Vampire

The word itself dates backs hundreds of years to Turkish descent and even beyond that.... Vampire

The amount of culture surrounding this one word is astounding and rich in lore

An undead immortal that preys on mortals for their blood, to live all eternity with an insatiable lust for blood.
Damned creatures without a soul

Vampires that is  

From movies dating back to bram stokers Dracula to current films such as blade and even the likes of twilight and TV shows such as vampire diaries

But those are only one tale of vampires, see amongst polish and Romanian culture they were known as Strigoi
Spirts come back from the grave to feast on the living


Its amazing really, all these variations
The English word vampire was borrowed from the French

I really wonder what it's like to be immortal
To be able to regenerate and regrow limbs
To have immeasurable speed and inhumane strength
All of this comes at a price, a hunger really

I think that amongst myths and lore, vampires might be the best reflections of ourselves, what it actually means to be human
To fall prey to vices such as lust and greed
Even the shedding of blood and causing harm to others

All an addiction, a hunger, an insatiable lust that we all have yet different amongst us all

My hunger.... that's simple it's her,  it always has been, the thing I've been searching for if I was a vampire she would be my ideal prey to caress, to feed off, to be with, and to fuck.

She is mine and she brings out the hunger in me so in a way she makes me into a vampire

My queen

But that's just mine....

The real question you have to ask yourself is
Are you in control of your addiction
Or does it control you?
I am from whimpering Willows
From hidden fields and the dark moonlight
I am in the words dripping like the dew of grass
(Glistening, bright in the morning sun)
I am from the veins of the creeks
The haunted shack
Which held foaming dogs
And kindly ghosts from the past.

I am from bleached walls and late night visits, the impatient inpatient
From those crème colored walls where Horae’s heart was my only solace
I am from the scream-filled rooms and the silent nights
From six feet under to lost in the clouds
I’m from the Father of None whose heart I knew so little about
And the chimeras that danced in the nighttime to a darkly song

I’m from slashed papers written in crimson
And the soft light of dawn
From the life, my grandfather stole
to the body in her casket, cold
Under my bed lay Eros, daunting, but just, all the same
And I kept my weapon upon my desk
armed with thoughts twirling through my anxious, little head

I am from the locked doors without keys
And from false loves and false visions
The delusions of the mind and of the heart
I am from the green shining jewels of Hope
From a childhood cut too short
And an adulthood which came too fast

Born to name which was not my own
A life I would never live
From the bright white buildings
A dry throat, blackened vision, a blackened eye and a bleeding heart
In this world, I exist
And in The Separate, I used to live
But all these sleep filled nights have made me sleepless
The fuzzy grains of static fill my ears, my mouth, and my eyes
Andrew Kerklaan Dec 2011
He descends the stairs of the porch on the house sleepily

.....He is calm

Realising his wires are tangled he quickly unbunches them...

The sidewalk clicks by unheard to his ears...

Houses... Dark pictures from which he sees images of people -- Looking out, watching TV, talking...
  
He hears the sound coming from inside his ears but it does not register to him.... He remains deep in thought....

click click click
  
The stones pass by unnoticed

click click

Waiting

The criss-cross patterns on every single lawn...
  
Like an endless sea of unchanged, untouchable conformity he thinks to himself...

Reaching for the small chunk of metal in his pocket to turn up the noise and drown out his thoughts...  
  
What is it?  
  
He questions himself without answers....

With a fear of the unknown but completely unaware of what he should fear...  
  
He thinks quietly...

A building approaches... Bricks that are red like an African sunset... A prison... A place of hatred and sadness...

He stops, there is a man far away calling to him.....  
  
Ignorantly he continues without a second thought.

"Scum! An endless sea of it...." He speaks underneath his breath  
  
Black leather hangs around him in long sheets... As he walks it sways... This pleases him...

Such a hollow pleasure he thinks bitterly....  
  
What is purpose? is it merely the quest for meaning? or something more...

click click click  
  
......Darkness is now around him and a place to rest is close....

*click click....
One of my very first poems
Andrew Kerklaan Jun 2017
The darkness gives way to butterflies and repulsion breaths life into statues of dead dogs...    
    
These horrors must be kept.    
    
Though stitched eyes would bring no release to these lost soldiers    
    
A forest far away burns down and you scream my name    
    
Crying all the while, the mother's child dies    
    
Will I ever be free?    
    
A shadow looms through the window and you reach to the outstretched hand    
    
Will you take his word over the eyes in a painted room?    
    
Faceless words mutter silently in a meaningless language    
    
These premonitions so clear...    
    
Could I simply be slipping out of view once again?    
    
Lost in a dream about a dream    
    
Eyes flutter open    
    
The beating of wings of glass winds

A knife's edge will cut through the night and leave me in silence    
    
Quiet and alone, you will die!    
    
A wealth of burden all his own to eat    
    
Darkness gives way to the dawn and the butterflies take flight though the deliverance of daylight
This poem I wrote in 2011, it's one of the very first I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy it.
Arcassin B May 2017
By Arcassin Burnham


Soul cursed from birth with sins that made me think
not to pretend in a wicked world such as this,

i swear i could give a damn about your opinions when
burned deep into the skin of a grudging bliss,

Met my love that i still know in my life but never
reached toward a goal where i could have that kiss.
i'm sorry.
©abpoetry2017
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2017/05/srry-1.html
Elaina Apr 2017
Beyond the heavens
Among the cold and dark void
Is where I began
Arcassin B Sep 2016
By Arcassin Burnham


Bad life,
"Define it",
Okay, give you a glimpse of everything like those long rainy days,
When I had nowhere to go when my mom kicked me out the third
Time , shattering moments in my memories causing us to part ways,
Blamed God for that too, Blamed God for everything,
Looking at the past in my head drives me fucking insane,
Wishing everyday my feet would walk into a new chapter where I
Don't have to struggle anymore than what they proclaim,
I use to be able to make people laugh when their down,
I had a lot of people and a lot of friends than my fingers could count,
There was no reason but there was , to make me feel like an outcast,
To be revolted against, and I had kiss some peoples ass,
Suffering from a phobia that you can't control most of the time would
Allow you to go through bad things and remember the past,.
So if you've been through what I've been through and you're at peace
With yourself now And you love yourself, don't be afraid,
Raise your glass,


I was,
I was....

I was just a lonely black kid looking for friends
When I stumbled upon you.....
Staggering like silk or silver in my mind as it
Centered around you...
You.....

I won't define you.
©ABPoetry2016
http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/09/feet.html
Arcassin B Jul 2016
By Arcassin Burnham


The world's bad enough,
My life is bad enough,
Yours is bad enough,
P.s , life isn't tough,
Cause once you put your trust in the man up stairs,
You'll know just what you get out of it , a palace with
Your peers,
They lack love in the states ,
And everything and everyone has a back story,
So try to ignore the hate,
And they'll over situate the wars,
And starting a new conflict like 9/11 and Paris and Orlando,
I'm making sure I seal all my doors closed, and,
I was skeptical about certain people and wouldn't talk to them,
The life I made for myself was unexpected,
And when shit hit the fan I blamed it all on him,
I souly and utterly regreted it,
Banging in the nails a little bit,
Blaming him for being born,
For going through life blind,
For making coincidental mistakes,
For having mental issues and phobias,
For being black,
For being misunderstood,
For being bullied,
For being betrayed,
For my father leaving me behind like every other
Bastard child,
For making me wear my heart on my sleeve
And fall in love easily with girl that don't love me,
So I could say things to them like.......


/

.....I'm so glad,
To be caught
In your love,

The love we have,
I would fight,
For all the above,
All in your love.
©ABPoetry


http://arcassin.blogspot.com/2016/07/hammer.html
Maple Mathers May 2016
Regressing into happenstance
I grasped the Rabbit in my hand
One sip I took, upon a chance
Off the edge, into quicksand. . .

Blacking out on your front lawn
On the ground, where you could stand
Can’t remember dusk or dawn,
Sinking fast into quicksand.
Worth continuing?
Paul M Chafer Apr 2016
Poetry lives, sleeps, deep, deep within,
The words, waiting, waiting, waiting,
Nurtured, soothed, lovingly cajoled,
Given form and purpose, till they rise,
Coming to life, unbidden, bursting free.

They echo around the globe, touching,
Slipping silkily into hearts and minds,
Subtly connecting with new-born ideas,
Mingling, coalescing, waiting, waiting,
That’s where poetry come from, (yes),
Poetry lives, sleeps, deep, deep within.

©Paul M Chafer 2016
Inspired by Divine Dao and her poem, Wow!
Forged in moments, assembled, jostled and posted, unpolished, that's where poetry comes from deep, deep within
Next page