"blackens" poems
In a dream,
Or a nightmare,
Everything seems out of place.
Things start out right,
And then,
You’re dropped into an ocean.
You’re naked and drowning,
Sleeping and awake.
Slipping away into a panic,
Floating on a wave of d i s c o n n e c t.
Grasping for anything,
You hold on to thin air.
Feeling good with just that,
The darkness grabs your s
e
n
s
e
s.
Gaining visual on your position,
You swim a short mile.
Lost with no vision,
You look outside yourself a while.
Your view from up above,
The ocean seemed to move.
God knows how long it has been
Below,
The water blackens.
You lose faith,
The darkness wins again.
©Copyright 2014 Written and Edited by Racquel Davis
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Pariah
Nihilism at its finest
Bleed black the finest shattered diamonds
Of all the lost hopes and dreams
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Cynical skeptics, sarcasm dripping venom
Acid burns through flesh blood and bones
No one gives a **** scream for a savior
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Shards of glass smile razorblades
Plague of loneliness grips your throat
Heart beats darkness through your veins
**** society, anarchy reigns
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Shadow world of gray and stones and broken homes
Bleeding hearts and gutted homes
A black void in collapsing homes
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Cesspool of sick and stinking ****
Hungry ravish burning Rome
Parasitic beasts feeding on lost souls
**** you in and never let you go
False promises of help, burning, burning, burning, blackens the sky
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
Nevermore the sun shines down on the wretched land
Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome
This
Is
The
Future
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
Ah deceit, you wicked *******
creeping up uninvited, as always
no one sees you coming
none will know when you’re gone
your delicious lies stay but for an instant
and here still, you find a cue
to salt the exposed wounds.
You were never missed
your many forms, vibrant faces
the infamy and calumny
stories unchecked and forgotten
buried under the moniker of bygones.
Yet the scars remain,
deep cuts betrayal, but never fills.
The entrusted deceiver
your snake in the grass
silence is deadlier than a sharp tongue
this venom cannot drown a writhing heart
hope, kindling another tragedy
the reasons are always above par
emotions run amuck behind bars.
The tongue blackens every time
you sever the threads which bind loyalty
leaving the void to **** away the remains
into a crushing dark abyss
the face carries a smile that never fades
the heart has long since withered to naught
now, it cheats itself to bitter death.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
With black leaves and black clocks,
I fall and drift as the time I forgot
Spirals beneath me,
A whirlpool dragging me
Down, down, down.
It dirties my soul with every turn,
Blackens the lessons that I learn,
Removes my life that means nothing now.
Away I travel.
Exploring the world with a sense of unknown,
Pitter-pattering on the edge of reason.
My doom is inevitable.
It is imminent.
It is lonely.
Alone, alone I press on.
I take back the black of the leaves and the clocks,
And slow the seconds in the time I forgot.
It is now.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
Darkness dredges deep into the soul,
tempest gouges out my stillness in manic vengeance,
lightning in fiery wrath
rips up the mind’s horizon.
Thunderous sky roars in scaring rage.
Panicked,
stars went hiding
in the pall of gloomy clouds.
My soul too blackens out,
O Shepherd,
where are you this night?
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
The blue deepens,
blackens,
turns to night.
The sun sets over the horizon,
the light fades,
day is gone.
the moon rises,
a scythe in the velvet sky,
a swath of stars removed in its brilliant light.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC
distant hills
drifting
in a sea of grass
waves
slip from stone
grasping nothing
winter evening -
crows glide in and gather
on the roof tops
diesel grit
blackens the fog -
a passing train
sipping dew -
a moth flutters down
the dripping eave
Molokai:
waking up -
a bird calls
- a gecko responds
no wind, no waves -
an empty boat is swamped
by the sunset
(after Dogen)
Tom Spencer © 2018
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:38 AM UTC
Gold shed upon suckling gold,
The time of the bole blackens,
Of the dark mounted through dapple,
While in the sealed apple
The seed cradled toward cold.
A gold on gold spent,
Put by from an elm in its years
Now its gilded of days,
Over turf’s dishevelment;
Where all which is green sickens,
All the fresh shall be sere.
All which is green sickens,
And it is but for a time
Those embered veinings blaze
A year’s delirium;
Or neared of other space,
Unportioned azure shall close
One of more, and which is,
One which goes.
Let the little pupils that will,
Of vision, gaze for salt
To whet their gazing, wit
In one weather is high
From burrow and lair, by
Nether providences’ default
An all’s accrued.
And apposite, beyond
Such primer beholdings, has
Its long accounting known
The beetle’s morsel thus
Was rich, and the slug’s bed on
The oak’s generations, deep
Over the lark’s bones.
In slough of Edens fast
Wit in one weather shall stand,
While millennia nibble at
The sensual apple
Toppled it net,
Plenty in the palm of the hand,
And the fallen not fallen, not lost
From out its certitude—
For our unbeggaring
Has been gross. Few and late
To cherish an immoderate
Wish, hope’s calculus,
Love’s hope; few to miss,
From natural tally ******
In the lime-girdled space
Of choice, where alone
Man can abandon what
Is only his own;
And in cold and tarrying
Their rearisers sleep:
While to the granite cheek
Light’s purples bring
Infinite their ministering,
And past our finial
And ragged crests, to keep
Time’s ambient stood,
Propose horizons from
Their shadowy quarries; while,
In an unwandered wood,
Or under the indifferent foot,
Is let fall, let fall a fruit,
Through eternal leisures down,
For but time’s unravelling.
2.9k
Cauld-bluided, humphing ower the stark grey hills
Gowd een skinkle to an fro
Split tongue lappin at the wind-blown smells
Bog grass blackens whaur ye go
Smoke split shielings and the clammerin o bairns
Bone cracked mithers in yer wake
Heirt-scaud ruin fae the valleys tae the cairns
Driven by a drouth ye canny slake
Crib tale shapit unner creakin heather thatch
Howf born craitur o the nicht
Auld sangs spake aboot the maidens ye would ******
Fleggit bairns tae keep intil the licht
True? Naw, havers, juist the blaflum o wives
God nivver biggit ocht sae fell
But ae bairn crouchin in the ruins o its life
Can think o naethin else the tale tae tell
Blin, lost, forwandert fae the shattered faimly hame
Warslin wi fear tae unnerstan
White winds whistle as he gies the beast a name
And dragons whiles can take the form o man.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,—
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that Beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again,—but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn!—What is the Spring to me?
2.5k
I notice you the moment I walk in
You, however, don't give a ****
Looking at your pretty little associates
Giggling over some inane matter
While you sit like you are
Some kind of holy,
With a shit-eating grin
On your face. Your attention
Doesn't waver from them
I walk inside, intensely tired
Gone insane with all the fake-
grins and the somewhat awkward
Fun we all had. Your attention
Doesn't waver from your papers
Your precious little papers
I note, with a sardonic grin
I close my eyes and simply
Don't care any more as I
Strip out of my clothes
Chuck off my stupid heels
And fall on the bed, letting
Out a sigh of relief, comfort
Finally, I get to relax
My spine relaxes but it tingles
With awareness of the
Audience. I open my eyes
My vision blurry from over-use
I meet his gaze across the room
He keeps staring
Disconcerted and too weary to deal
With his mood-swings, I close my eyes
And bury my face in the pillow
My head is hurting, it is pounding
And I am at the end of my rope
He comes with slow, languid strides
Makes me sit-up, hands over the flask
Filled with water, my name engraved
On the cap, and a pamphlet of Aspirin
I praise the medical wonders
As I knock it down and lie on the bed again
I can feel it acting its magic
My nerves are loosening out
My head is being quietened bit by bit
As my vision blackens, I notice his
Face, eyes, expression
Strangely, something looks
Like longing on his face
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 10:16 AM UTC
Blood come, blood lust
Pulse and closed trickle
Pledged and disloyal
Come beckon her closer
The red grin dismantles
Flesh as well as the cleaver
Pain left drowned within
Infinite desire
And heir blackens and boils
Skin softer than petals
Split apart for the curious /
The insatiable
Come beckon her closer
Come beckon her closer
We all die in the moment
And live for nothing.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
Morning drops like a parachute,
circumnavigating
the irrational things within her.
She drew the grim cartwheel
--crayoned images of kids in closets,
and blackens them into
illustrations of war.
She sleeps on bleak days
with young cameras,
Lucy under the tongue,
rosaries at the border
feel like pins and needles
to an adrenaline sorceress
in giallo approach,
her eye in a labyrinth,
the eye she lost in the Crusades,
filming streets below
the color of dark Roman wine.
It's a staring contest,
waiting on rooftops
in stages of collapse,
there she lives or dies
at the dividing line with the grave.
Jan 20, 2024
Jan 20, 2024 at 5:51 PM UTC
I know it’s in me, this word called hate.
It creeps and crawls. It dwells within the
tip of my heart and it blackens my soul.
I can feel it.
Claws out, it tears at my thoughts and it slashes my dreams.
It needs to get out.
I weep in pain, in agony, and in fear of this word called hate.
It is a babe without a heartbeat.
It is a mother without children.
It is a friend with no one to call friend.
It is a lover in need of love.
It is the monster we call ourselves.
This hate is in me.
My trust broken.
My senses numb.
My life stolen before me.
My almost lover lost.
Hate.
Rage.
Fury.
This darkness is all I see. It has a form, whatever it maybe. It differs from each person. It is what we don’t want it to be.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Watch as it grows
Spout my beautiful rose
I watch as it blackens
I Watch as death beckons
Tears in eyes
why must all beautiful things die
When spring is calling
Life comes once agin
But when it's death reaches we gather
Say a prayer
As the beauty goes six feet under
All wonderful things must come to an end
So I watch
my beautiful black rose
I watch as it grows
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
Life begins.
A simple beginning,
That quickly blackens,
And fills with lies.
Insincerities fly.
Mother tries and tries,
But father dies
And the world corrupts my eyes.
*** and violence and filth disguise
Themselves Like spies.
Insincerities fly.
Several birthdays pass,
A great relief:
They do not last.
Candles burn and blister,
Trying to erase and cover
The grief.
People thanking,
People wishing,
People praying,
All for my
Wellbeing.
Insincerities fly.
Out on my own,
Meeting new people,
Still somehow alone.
A door opens and closes.
A necktie
Adorns my clothes.
“Hello, Hello.”
Insincerities fly.
My father’s tombstone,
My mothers Aching, breaking bones,
A lack of numbness.
Sadness.
The ringing of a door,
The knocking of a visitor.
Sickness.
A doctor.
Pills and plugs and prying,
All with A false reply.
Insincerities fly.
Everyday, without fail. Insincerity. People saying hello and goodbye. People are born and people are dead. At each occasion they say “I'm well” and they say “I'm fine.” They say “good day” and “thanks.”
Insinceritas
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 11:48 PM UTC
taste
like the feeling of walking out the door
and taking in that clean, bright air
slightly scented with chlorine
by the hot poolside
deep, sky blue water
so cool
wade in
green beans snapping in your mouth
sound
like that last step
meant to be stealthy
touching down on a landmine of twigs,
the falling
of a thousand miniature trees, in sequence
with an axe.
almost,
the juicy crackling of a
campfire, after it's consumed
that accidently drooping marshmallow.
forgive it
as it blackens, warps, and crumbles
it tried to hold on.
green beans snapping in your mouth
smell like dry
ice vapors, that float, free
as a spirit, undefined,
like glass shard cuts
of freshly mowed grass,
breathe in that vibrant green,
discarded and scattered
like an answer blowing in the wind
through the waves of a spring
field, full of thin whistling reeds,
hanging wind bells
on the eave,
dripping with rain.
Listen to the
sweet, nothing-tang tones
delicious
silent-music
can't quite describe
the sensation--
green beans snapping in your mouth
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
Broadway is a mime,
changing its persona all the time.
Spotlights casting shadows,
on the victims of a tragedy.
Heroes showing bravado,
saving the day.
A happy energetic song and dance,
like a bright sunbeam ray.
Blackout!
A scene change.
Where does she get the vocal range?
She keeps running perfectly,
using her complex tools.
The audience agrees.
(Applause is her fuel!)
She hits the high note,
the curtain shuts, everything
blackens like nighttime.
Act Two.
Three.
Can’t you see?
Broadway is a mime,
changing all the time.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 8:03 AM UTC
I wander down the path
Seemingly still and quiet
No shadows in sight
But a light so bright
What could be, this Enigma?
I’m mesmerized, so transfixed
And with its grace and beauty
It rejects every stigma
my Invigoration
simple conjuration
of feeble elation
becomes condemnation
an exacerbation
of lost contemplation
falling to the floor i find myself
beyond salvation and left to starvation
I did not choose this, to feel this, or to be thrown away
My intentions are gold, no ill will in sight
but they choose to see what they want
HARK!
A figure engulfs the horizon
Shrouded and concealed from the world
It charges forth as a familiar phantom
It strikes me back as I stagger away
Its cloak blackens the sky to my dismay
as air evaporates bleeding my mind astray
but hope is in sight for I have found a knife!
again and again, Brutus would be proud
for the pool beneath the figure must end my strife
and to the figure, I remove its cowl
lo and behold, the face is my own
reality then breaks at the seams
to have this fate, I couldn’t have known
lost and diluted much like my dreams
My hands remain red
Trapped in my own head
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
Tonight I need the glow from an open fire
I need the embrace of warm coals
Which blackens my mind
But sets fire to my desires
Tonight I don't wish to sleep alone
Upon a cold sheet full of the
Yesterday's memories
The warmth you left
lingers in corners
And whisper's my name
I look within
But find you gone
Long ago
When love was real
The fires grew strong
And the night's were full of the scent
Which only belongs to my heart
Tonight I search the grate for signs of you
Embers linger
There is a truth
That lies here
It feels so hollow
Tonight I need the glow from an open fire
Apr 14, 2011
Apr 14, 2011 at 12:13 PM UTC
A bright light blinds my gloomy brown irises as the extended recoil continues to burst semi-automatic rounds through my chest cavity,centimeters away from the beating pulse keeping me alive. Never saw the irony in playing with fire until the last fraction of my soul abated the spark between two lover's bloom, only to suppress my impending doom. When the concluding bullet down the sixteen inch barrel fires perpendicular to the ground, horizontally to my heart, my ribs rupture, my world blackens, a shrapnel of fragments spread as my soul is shattered. My face streaming poisonous black tears of a lonely being receding to the new found resting place. A soulless figure laying parallel to the frigid solid concrete with a slightly conscious mind. I extend my hand in her direction, glancing one last time at the silhouette figure standing above me. She mutters, "it's over" then fires two hollow point bullets, one in my head, one in my heart, my eyes motionless, my breath non-existent. All that remains is a shadow, roaming the earth with no aspiration, with no more love to give.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
Annoyance is such a hideous thing.
It blackens the heart.
Making it sting.
You say stop.
Do as I say!
How can I?
When you do it anyway..?
Annoyance...
Such an Ugly thing.
You can breathe..
But never have glee.
Remember the fallen..
Queen of hearts.
She roams within the darkness..
Of the humans heart.
I do not care.
Leave me be..
Be forewarned.
I might just..
Scream...
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
Cut, cut, cut.
This is true.
There is no other
Way through—
Feel my head.
It is heavier than God’s,
An Iberian sculpture
Jam-packed with *****
Misery blackens it.
Sweet Lady,
I want a Picasso smile.
No one comprehends!
I am all alone,
A Buddhist bud
Rising, falling, rising
Choking on its
Indelible, sick scents.
Those silver hooks
Cast nastiness,
Smirking
“We got her again”.
O heart,
You fill me with irony:
I cannot adore someone
Unless they adore me.
You never do me good.
I’d throw you out
If I could,
Sitting around
Bored as a Leopard,
Syncopating Satan :
You amuse me to death.
Pretty boy,
Dumb girl,
Beaten mother,
Hateful Father,
Make me numb.
My skin is a sky
Of Samurais.
That is that, that is that.
**** me.
I won’t come back.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 10:22 PM UTC