Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Martin Boško Jun 27
Come forward, traveller, we have what you seek
Just ask your question and listen as we speak
Our riddles are easy for those with bright mind
The clever soon know if their stars are aligned
We offer great wisdom, all futures we see
We know all that once were and all that will be
Apollo sings us his beautiful songs
All He says happens, he's never wrong
So visit our temple, and sooth there your soul
'cause those who know answers are the ones that feel whole
Carlo C Gomez Jun 26
entering the lists,
in absentia,
the prayer of blood
broken at its spine.

Ah, how minding days
trampoline and joust,
like those days beyond recall
thrown into the fire.

The persistence of memory
is a series of F-stops,
the fountain of youth
a spring of well-being
and then forever nothingness.

We've reached the prophetic day,
I feel the coming wrath
in the whites of their eyes:

I dream of wires
and sleep by godless windows,
the sound of untamed rivers
chanting passions misplaced
and of the absence of belief

—the true ***** of man.

Take one last look
at the structure of morality
before it closes down.

One last look...

Martin Boško Jun 10
Oh, how strongly I am missing
Those simpler times when everybody would have listened
Oh, how tired am I
Of being ignored when the end is nigh
Oh, how much did I pay
For choosing chastity over Apollo's dark rays
Oh, how much will I suffer
From those evil hands that will treat me rougher
Oh, how evil gods can be
When mortals hurt their vanity
Oh, oh, oh
I wish I didn't know
Martin Boško Apr 22
Exhaustion and cold is what I feel
As I climb the tree called Yggdrasil
From Midgard to Asgard, here I go
To visit Odin and learn what he knows
A prophecy of future that’s about to be
Covered in a shroud through which I cannot see
Martin Boško Apr 21
Tell me, Heimdallr, what do you see?
Tell me, is the future as good as I hope it will be?
Do I have my love with me by my side?
Do I finally have some sense of pride?
Do we have kids in our beautiful house?
How many are there with me and my spouse?
Will I be able to move my plans forward?
Will I stop being so socially awkward?
Is there finally, in my eyes, a spark full of glee?
Just tell me, Heimdallr, what do you see?
Martin Boško Apr 19
Mystical mistress clothed in satin
Chants magic words spoken in Latin
Pleading with gods to help her see
The vision of what will the future be
She fell into a trance, the gods have spoken
Oracle entered the mysterious woman
Expression of horror engraved on her face
She saw the tragedy of the human race
And when she came back, she looked at me, mourning
Whispered of tragedy of the upcoming morning
And when she was asked about the fate of the world
Her eyes told me stories her lips left untold
And after I woke up from the night’s rest
I found her lifeless body with a knife in her chest
She sought the future to relieve her pain
She went through it once, scared of living it again
Jessica Mar 22
In those dark days
Of black and white
The sun will be blackened
And the moon shall
Obscure it’s opal light
The sun will rise
With trepidation
Like mountains in Genesis
At the behest of God
And the ocean sailing
To meet the heavens
Will leave the
The stars, trembling
Like the quaver of a violin
As the earth is covered
With a velvet sin
Written in cursive by the
Blackest ink pen
Patchouli incense
Wafts in and out of time
A final song or a melody
Then silence.
I found this verse verbally extremely beautiful and was inspired to write about it:

“Immediately after the tribulation of those days: 'The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the powers of the heavens will be shaken” Matthew 24:29
Omar Acevedo Feb 6
Powered matter leaves their origin,
Into a land in the distance,
Residing in the hearts of children
Offering everything but resistance,
Exchanging life and his riches
For the taste of blood in their kisses.

A child is a sacrifice
For what is right
In the prophet’s eyes
And minds that are blind
To the lies that bind
His cries and surmise-s.
The prophet’s prophecy
Is to gain profit from gases
More flammable that propane.
His fingers, crossed and lost,
His veins, lost its blue,
His skin, has turns chartreuse
With the sight of the new moon.

A new dawn begins
With the same sun,
Covered by new clouds.
Sounds of the innocent,
Muffled by the lead they’re
Buried in.
Their fears of growth
Disappear with their sight.
But it’s alright,
It’s in the name of Liberty,
Currency, and Democracy.
Jason Feb 22
The gentle bite of the stars reflected in the night sea.

Holding my gaze, and holding me fast to my vision,

So that I need never know the difference,

Between your eyes and the light of day.

Turn not away from me, but into me.

So that we might savor the entwining heat of our embrace.

But if you must leave me, know this;

That I shall surely fall into the depths of that same sea,

To perish, still contemplating the wonders of you.

That I should remain, still, beneath such turbulent waters,

Eternally reflecting a love further than the stars,

It would be the sweetest rest,

Suspended in the deepest sorrow.
© 1994 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
Ken Pepiton Jan 8
Asreal as any mission to mars,

this is earth, we hear you now.
Come in.

And as any vampire fan knows,
the deed
was done.

If your life were
a thread,

here's a knot, hang in there,
keep on truckin'

believe in seagull borne
Celestine prophecy

and pitch Amway.

Think some things never change
and be wrong.
Start over.

What is the meaning of life, if
it is not 42 or 43? Or any whole number.
More entertaining than any thing else I could be doing... the second year lived as a novel, day seven was prickly with plot points... mad chaotic swirls
Next page