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Thia Jones Mar 2014
Gorse burnt
bird skeleton
laying beneath
stark, white, crumbly
just calcium
a proto-fossil
that lacks the hardness
derived from
aeons encased
in mud
becoming stone
but this one
will never be
its future is dust
mingled with sand

Close by lies
a golf ball
a wayward one
that strayed
from links
to dune
to deform
in the blaze
become blackend
and split
the skin peeled back
opened to reveal
the tight-wound
elastic strands
fused together
yet penetrable
with persistent
small fingers
and unravelled
in exploration
to be left
in an untidy
forgotten pile
once the sac
at the core
is retrieved
within which
thick white paint
to sqeeze forth
and daub
on wall or fence
or kerbstone

This was the day after
fire had torn
through a thicket of gorse
that I and one or two
others had found ablaze
burning red and yellow and orange
hissing and spitting in protest
radiating heat in aromatic miasma
impressing all senses together
and knowing our civic duty
had run breathless
two streets inland
to fire red telephone box
to dial three nines
and deliver the news and wait
for fire red fire engine
to thunder by with shrilling bell
then to follow on, running back
to observe and to claim
with pride our part
in the resolution of danger
only to face accusation
that we must be responsible
for starting the conflagration
our shock and earnest denials
not entirely convincing
even when we protested that
had we been the culprits
then reporting the matter
would be the last consideration
instead, we were told
we'd clearly done the deed
so we could call out the brigade
and though nothing in the end
came of it, I was left convinced
that adult thought patterns
left much to be desired
and were far too convoluted
too suspicious, too impenetrable
to be ever worth adopting

That episode taught me
the magnificence of gorse ablaze
that discoveries were to be
made in the aftermath
that doing the right thing
wasn't always to be advised
that overly suspicious
too officious firemen
were fishing for payback
that if I were to be judged
guilty of the offence
when I was innocent of it
then I had a credit awaiting
in the bank of misdemeanor
so in due course
I made my withdrawal
and lit the gorse
in assembly at school
we were told we should
not hide our light
under a bushel
but I, not knowing
what a bushel was
lit mine under a bush
I did it only once
and though I had a brief
flirtation with Fraid
Her power scared me too much
no great damage was done
no human life lost
or placed in danger
save possibly mine

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 19/10/13
Fraid (the 'F' is pronounced 'V') is the Welsh name for the Celtic Goddess perhaps better known by Her Irish name Brigid. Amongst other attributes, She is Goddess of fire.
Randy Bryte Aug 2016
My Fairy Tale Life Is Over
And I just can't believe it's true
My world is collapsing and falling apart
I feel lost, I feel lonely and blue
Maybe its a nightmare and soon I will open
My eyes to the way that we were
Loving and caring and helping each other
So happy, so safe, and secure
If I am dreaming, and our love we still share
I'll wake her with kiss and desire
She'll pull me in deep and whisper so soft
Her voice sets my heart on fire
I waited my life she was always the one
But now I am empty and I'm coming undone
My Fairy Tale Life is over
And reality is driving insane
The beautiful colours that were filling my eyes
Have now blackend and filled up with pain
The stereo sounds that once tickled my ears
Now screech with guilt I succumb
My soft touch for her is no longer needed, my fingers are useless and numb
My Fairy Tale Life Is Over I fear
I feel dead, alone, and afraid
For I am the reason it's come to the end
And my life is the price I have paid
Viper Jan 2011
I was driving to work just the other day

this guy was riding my bumber like I was in his way

he decides to pass but almost clips my car as he cuts me off

he hears my horn and flags the ******* to flip me off

I return the gesture and his tail light burst into bright red

slamming on his breaks and tempting fate what a bone head

I hold down my horn to let him know I am thoroughly ****** and had enough

he motions to pull over to the side of the road, he thinks I won't call his bluff

out of my car first and I can hear his big mouth and it is still runnin'

I won't be showing any mercy this ***** has it commin'

my fist meets his face with a loud smack and the blood begins to flow

a few more punches and he lands face down in the snow

now his ribs and my steel toed work boots are being vigorously introduced

it's amazing how from rude behavior so much hostillity is produced

before I go to get in my car to leave and finish out my day

I lean down and look into his ****** face and blackend eyes and I say

"The next time you decide to be an inconsiderate ******* when you drive, remeber this beating and how lucky you are to still be alive!)
copyright/Viper 2011
mark john junor Oct 2013
the dank hallway is filled with
the repercussions of conversations
that only she can hear
her dead phone rings all night
her lover stepped out for a smoke
ten years ago but hell be back in a moment
she loads her version
of disappearing
and a smile slowly fades onto her face
a deity of sunshine
her open vest sweating skin
is covered in particles of the dirt that
hides her eyes from seeing the dire face
of this long long year
like a blast furnace she keeps thouse thoughts
sealed behind the locked hatch
its battleship beginnings lend credence
to defensive posture she takes
when confronted by the ugly truth
he ain't never comin' home
guess my name
but you know my face dont 'cha honey
its the blackend end of all your burned down dreams
its the final chapter of all your unfinished novels
i am darkness within your own soul
her jagged edge feelings scare her
and she tries not to let them show on her sculpted features
but with rancid ticks and convulsions of the lip
they escape one careless emoticon at a time
don't all emoticons have screaming faces
bleeding eyes
she smiles for me
and navigates the narrow hall
past the groping old men
to a safe corner where she can disrobe her heart
and let the tears fly fast and furious
pills and molly
would solve she thinks
but holding my hand will do in a fix
if i can get her through the night
if i can get myself through the night
Sydney Victoria May 2013
The World's Waters Stagnant; Blackend With Hate,
The Clouds Grey, Shedding Salt Filled Tears,
The Wind Whistles The Songs That Captives Sing,
As The River Cools The Fugitives Burning Feet,
Though Polluted It Glitters Beneath The Sun,
Which Sits In The Polluted Sky,
The Still Sane Sun Reflects Off The Traumaed Eye,
Turning It's Tears Into Liquid Gold,
Though To The Money Hungry Ruler,
They Are Not Worth A Thing
S Smoothie May 2014
**** this beast that haunts this cave

Im not ******* sharing it anymore

got my sharp stick and courage to waver

gonna stab that ******* right in the heart

Ill spill my blood in bowls full before i yield this fight

**** this monster that rises in my chest

gonna stomp it back into the mother ******* ground

got my high heel boots on to tread its dread

Ill break my legs in a thousand places before I quit this fight

**** the ****** HATERS who think that Ive got to stink before they shine

**** all the ******* that ***** with your mind

**** it all, forget the score

it never fucken mattered anyway

cause I was never approved to play

I play any way because

Im gonna **** that demon up

you know the one that blackend up my soul

the days are fucken numbered

it stops here cause I aint got no fucken time for that fucken **** anymore.
kyle Shirley Jul 2017
All the heart break, swirling death, and held back tears create a refined soul.
Once upon a time she loved me.
These emotions of joy and delight fluttered inside me like a kingdom of butterflies.
Her singing swiftly guided this blackened soul, to a fountain of youth, my ears heard a symphony when we was a lone tone.
Love will do that to you.
Blind your senses and make you face the music.
Quentin Briscoe Sep 2012
I can picture You embeded in my skin...tattooed sin...As I flex you move...a gyrating women...grip closer to me...speep ink into my viens...Send your poison to my brain...make it say your name...stamped by your mission to own me...you control me...grab me by the horns and hold on, bull ride me...and constipate my body so i'll never ******* you...brand me with the emblem of beauty...its your duty, to use me as your mirror on the wall to get cutesy...Im enchanted...when Im branded...fantasized when Im alone..but your embeded in my skin...so we'll always be at home...and the fairest in the land will have a blackend tone...cuz even tho snow is white...it still sparkles when its dark at night...
Take this hand.

May I guide you within the depths?

So traggic to view her this way.

White in a doll of china's mask of death.



Tormented did a candles light cast doubt's with no hand to grasp

a wrist bled slow.



Tea leaves and incense.

Masked air of rosemary the record scratched and was inturn

left unherd.



Thoose eye's captured want yet

never could clasp a heart or lockets match.



Was it as planned?



A slow regression into a blackend fade.

A cloth over lamp.

It dimmed the light but never the flawed beauthy.

that I knew well.



Sleep in a life none would yern to awake.

My heart did linger in a thought as overcast skies blue eye's

did paint my thought's gray.



Cold was perfection a raindrop viewed from inside.



I kissed you last as first I bid farewell.

That night you took from many yet only thought as one.



A tormented love a single rose.

So tender you were stained of many.

But a portraiht to me.



Your words a soon to be epitapth of my pain cast memory.

Thank you for never seeing me as so many befor.



Many works of art are cast in pain.

Dove's of life often cry a tear when met to dirt.



I held you close once apon a empty floor only not tight enough.

Music that  cast a passion lights so dim often gliow with soul.



I see you now and think of that time.

Tender in a stone that is a chamber I call my heart.



I wish I could have brushed away the pain.

As I did a hair that night from your face.

Thoose eyes a void of passion life often does ****.



If you had taken that hand would we have found ourselves?

Or simpley lost it togather in a vague chance at bliss?



I remember you still.

A painting of a woman known to many but who's heart

was shared only with me.



That moment apon the bar's empty floor  forever fill's my

thought's
Lucrezia M N Apr 2016
Veins full of drought
early cages for my demons,
huming currents blow
through these blackend wrinkles,
cracks of atrophic mud.
A force from above
keeps pushing me your way,
but I’m vividly hiting the ground
like a feather fallen from your wings,
or a chord that can never touch you,
like an ice cube left sober into your last glass,
or a dream you won’t recall,
as your eyes unfold
to ennoble and delight the day…
life, again, never puts me at ease
only teases me about what I’m not…
I’m a contradiction of lines
persistently dying inside,
bleeding out to death
but just for the Joy
that now I know.
I've know a big happiness, at some point, that still is an amazing part of my life... But it was totally contrasting everything happened before... So this poem is my strong, dark way to tell about that...
The warrior clings,
Claws, fights to fight
Still with bullets in her back
She crawls

The wind howls persistently,
Consistently blows
Against the trees
When they refuse to bow

The water beats and leaks,
Drips on stone
To wear it down, drown it
Even if it takes one hundred
Lives and paths around the Earth

The salmon leap dams
Until their silver flesh
Grows blue and bruised,
Their insides batter,
And still they climb

The birds fly south
A thousand miles from
All they know,
With the threat of frost
On their feathers

When they survive another year,
When the salmon bare children,
When the stone finally moves
And gives way to a new fresh spring,
When the trees crash,
And new life sprouts
From the deadened base,
When the soldier takes the final blow…

These helpless participants
In a world they didn't design
Become the catalyst, key
For a whole new world to blossom and bloom

They're not in it for the thrill
For their health,
While with broken, blackend bodies
They bleed onward

They don't do it
Because they want to
Or because they were encouraged
Or because it was commanded of them

They don't do it because law
And nature demands,
Or because they are programmed to

There's no wealth,
No thoughts of glory
In those moments at the end
When it is "succeed or fail"

They do it because they must.
Because not doing it isn't an option
Because a life without their deeds
Is not life

Because if they don't… their world will die.

It is for this same desire
Same perseverance,
Insistence
Tenacity
Relentlessness
With no option but to keep fighting
No other words but "fight",
No other thoughts but "do"
No other breaths
Than the small gasp of pain
Followed by the determined gulp of air

It is with the same breaths that I cannot cease
Cannot desist
Cannot resign
Cannot send in the white flag
Cannot accept the fate
Cannot let it be

That you are slipping away.

I must take the beatings, and keep fighting.
I must accept the wounds, the bullets,
And keep crawling for you.
I must succeed.

I must keep fighting.
I must keep fighting.
I must keep fighting.
I must keep fighting.

Because dying isn't an option.

The war was won
The new life bloomed
The salmon bred
The birds survived the season

And we will see the light again.

Because it must be.
McCaslin Apr 2011
A Solemn Procession Across Ashen Fields
Marches to a Funeral Dirge
The grate of Worn Heels against blackend Stone
Onward to Ragnarök, and the Final Cou De Grace
To Sing a Lament to Stone Aether and Fire
Bring to Us Wind and Rain
To Sweep us like Dust from the halls of Time
Bring Thunder that Rips the Bleeding Sky
and Lightening that shall Split the Hallowed Earth
So that From the mouth of a Heathen Hell
May issue Balefire to lick the hems of tattered Robes
Bring the Oceans to a Violent Boil
With such turmoil that She will at long last give up her Dead
Let the Putrid Yellow Skies be choked with Ash
So we may never hope to see the light of Day
Hold to thy lips the Final Cup
A tonic to Release us from the ghosts of the Fallen
That we may embrace the Final Darkness
With open, Longing Arms
2011. A long time coming, but also probably my last, at least for a good long while.
betterdays Jan 2017
white sand
flecked with
blackend seaweed

occasionally
a smooth tumbled pebble

the smell of salt
and iodine

water, whitecapped
as far as the horizon
and beyond

and heat clear crisp heat
drawing and drying sweat
on bodies bronzing

seagulls squabbling
over chips thrown
to a zephyr breeze

and the sound of sea
making love to sand
sealife, in australia
Embers burn
and embers bright
lights the fire
burns through night
embers heat
the charring wood
smoking flame
and blackend soot.
Days slip by with remains of my emptyness cast aside like bottles apon a vacant highways path.
How often had I found little comfort in the arms that knew nothing and only lingered for
payments often underpaid  in moments best left to forgotten like nights of youth kissed in
a lovers lipstick called regret .

Sometimes it takes a good demon's  burn to pull your head outta the cloud's.
And in these empty highways reflection often i'd found little more than rest stops
and regrets to fuel my anger and true sense of I dont give a ****.

Faces of a blank canvas heading toward new horizens and bitter end's.
Children lost clinging to people more clueless than there youth cast logic could bare.
No one's home in the lost.'
Only found in the emptyness of a new destination.

I cannot say wear I became such a heartless soul.
Only point you towards another route and send you off to find something
that would resemble a traggic play called happiness.

A broken down machine shook  by  other's in hope for a free treat.
Some just for the hell of seeing it swerve ive long since learned to respond
in a stock sense like some robot no true thought  left in my blackend soul.

Dark roads spread like snakes across tatered highways soon to be forgotten by all.
Rest stop ahead one mile.
We gather a lost audience with a shared flaw.

Tired of travel some drenched in life.
Togather we gather in seconds as soon we all do depart.

I cannot say ive spent the time only to erase it in vain.
But a highway is a womans love never returned only taken we no
longer feel the desire to give.

In darkest hours of mornings soon to be aproaching light I sit watching
the lights chase off into the distance swallowed into a never seen again void.
So many chasing dreams others just chasing a new stage.
All of us headed towards yet another dim lit destination.


I always dread my return.
Often long trips have that sureal sense to me.
Yet all the hours ive spent out there along with faces i know i'll never see again
I find unlike most I dispise my trip for I know no home only a place were
unlike the starngers I meet for only seconds.

Im treated as a fool a gypsy of the highway.
Im more home in the emptyness than  here.
Rest stops are the true place in between what some may consider heaven and hell.

Course what does the clown know to begin with?
Stay crazy Gonzo.
andy fardell May 2011
a blackend cloud on a darkend day blow wind blow this gloom away
feel the cloud touching out feel its power feel its clout
cotton candy so they look yet pure danger evils touch

blow wind blow my thoughts away leave me clean for today
give my soul some peace for once give it feedom give it love
charge my mind with happy days fight the fire damp the blaze

clean me out so i can see ..see a future ,happy free
Quinn Oct 2013
It was a dance of allure, pure like sugar cane,
And each step was ****** to begin with.
Jazz roared wild through our hearts,
Strumming on our bass notes.
Each bitter sweet note was tender and painless.
The rough jazz singer called out into the night,
The band played and stars sung out in all their elegance
And we danced
And danced.
The music died low
And the stars hummed softly to the night.
There was a temptation in the satin thump of a bass
As our hearts strummed together.
Then a string broke,
The band stopped,
The room dimmed,
The stars wept,
The polished brass of the trumpets became rusty and blackend,
The singer melted away into shadows,
And the room was now simply old and abandoned.
And this was my new truth.
Larry B Nov 2010
I keep waiting for the sunshine
But all I get is rain
This melancholy spirit
Fills my soul with pain

Lost I wander aimlessly
I know not where I go
My prison bars are hopelessness
Freedom, I'll never know

Locked in total darkness
No hope to see the light
Just a forgotten memory
A spirit of the night

Not looking for a future
But praying for an end
One more day is way too long
In this hell I'm living in

I write these words in torment
A curse, I live each day
A poet's heart, forever dark
With only hate to say

I write no happy endings
Just pain and suffering
My blackend heart betrays my mind
With the words my pen must bring

One day soon I'll breathe my last
No loved ones here that cries
My torment here is over
This poet of darkness dies
Amanda Francis Mar 2018
You should not be on my mind,
lips on hips,
between my thighs.
Your tounge should not be searching for my blackend soul.
You're a pill..... I swollowed whole.
Intoxicated, I'm addicted, I'm obsessive, loosing control.

A hatred for the girls who sleep,
they speak the truth,
they moan free.
She has something i'll never have. living thoughts driving me mad.
My calls for you fall upon deaf ears,  my boys sleeps like theres no fears.
In my dreams and waking hours, I'm yours to take and to devour.
Astral Jun 2015
It’s raining glass on these acres of wood, the shards are a magnificent color of onyx and sapphire

It’s as if the winds are conducting an opera, the trees the actors as they become scarred from the shards

The shards lodge themselves in my skin, but I feel no pain, I feel no hurt

As the blackend sun begins to set on these acres, the rays illuminate me, and I shine as the salt among the oceans
trevor vret Aug 2017
You beautiful face
You beautiful soul
Now, take your control

Endless you fear.
Endless you tear.
Endeless you dig your flesh to clear.
The pain you hide i want to share.

Set your knife on me,
Share with me your pain.
Set your soul on me.
Share with me your light.
Your dark dark light.

Heal with me your wounds.
Heal with me your skin.
Let me let your blood.
Let me stitch,
Have me sew your broken ends.

Controll me...scar me...save me...let me...

Drink my warmth,
Sip my blood,

Flow the blackend river of heart i have, over you.

Take control,
Beautiful face.
Beautiful soul
Tyler A Sullivan Jun 2017
Watered streets and muddy skies
The last rose bud dares to defy
Sharpened thorns and distant eyes
Another feeling to disguise

Snowy hills and freezing cold
The thorny rose could not keep hold
It will wilt and grow old
Desperation: a festering mold

Deserted streets and blackend sky's
Agony and pain regestared in distant crys
****** thorns and pale eyes
The rose bud to dust, then dies

Burning hills and sweltering heat
The people **** one another in the streets
The apocalypse and the world shake hands and meet
This ***** planet of ours: Satan's seat

Wasted soil and barren land
Hungry mouth and empty hands
Wicked people with sinister demands
Then green. Then wealth. Then sand.
Bradyn McCall May 2019
he was stuck in an everlasting wasteland
one of the few able to see the real evils of the world
the evils that destroy and ravage even the most innocent and kind hearted
attacking their fickle minds like a vulture on the hunt
ripping through skin to pick apart everything they keep hidden inside
feasting on the weak until they are nothing but an empty shell of themselves
left dormant, abandoned, hoping for the light
but the light they want is a light easily attainable through a cold barrel and that bright white light flashing against a blackend sky
making them finally feel at peace with the world around them
laying as part of that very world finally able to escape the horrors experienced
decomposing in one final effort to do some good in this hell people call life
while others were smiling, and laughing inside and out
he was putting a facade and knowing he was already dead long before the light enveloped him
but those same vultures who ripped him apart and broke him down
pretending to be eagles flying proud and standing for the very boy they pushed over the edge.
Delton Peele Dec 2021
Fractured....
Fuzzzzz.....
Static........
Emotionally
Pixelated .......

.....played ...

Lacerations ....
.....
Incarcerated
..........
Incinerated
..........
Lost found
And forgotten
Pulled up from
The blackend
Frigid murk
Of the worst
Waste lands
Of rock bottom....
Packed in lye
......
Cried,
..
Lied to.......
Waiting to die
Forced to stand naked
Outside,and
Watch begotten
  
Nursed back to my prime......

Beat down ,
Tarred,
Scourged,
Disturbed,
Then once again ...  
Drowned in the salty turbidity of my own painful,
Tears.... .



.... ...
I've been sculpted ........

....andIhateit....

Scars in my eyes.
But you can see the saaad sooooooong
Sung in
Cerulean Hues.
.......
Goiiiiiing into
Indigo......

Child actor syndrome
Wished I would have played Disney
Roles
......
Type cast ***** ...
Burnt out
Fast .

Now I'm playing
Comedy drama
...******......
cycle upon cycle

Scars upon scars
This game ......
This  dam   game ......

Shame.............mmmmmmm



This my my
Mind game
So many times  .........
Feels like auto pilot......
An it takes so long to get to this  plain .........


Lightning

bitter wind ....
Icy wet and sadistic.......
My love.
My queen ..!
Center of my confidence.....
Will you accept me ........
This time........
Ive been pushed  away
... I chose to wait.  .....
Alone ......
I created a lonely garden ...here I lay at your feet a thousand long stickery stemmed roses..feel free
To grab them
By the blossom ..........
Ill stand here
With my shirt
Off ....and you can
Whip me with each one

— The End —