"dementors" poems
The gusts of wind rustle through his dark hair as he rides his broomstick
In the search of the golden snitch – In the search of the ferrety golden snitch.
And in his mind whizzes past an image – at lightning speed, very swiftly,
As his expert eyes go after the small shiny metallic ball.
The Nimbus 2000 he once owned has now been replaced with another
In the attempt to make him quicker – In the attempt to make him quicker.
His eyes look like his mother Lily’s – His father James was a Seeker,
This is an analogy of a natural case of heredity in Harry.
The old broomstick Nimbus 2000 he owned was broken into pieces
In his third year at the school of magic – In his third year at Hogwarts.
Dementors attacked him – in the Quidditch pitch during a match,
And he fell several feet below from air before Dumbledore saved him.
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC
Dear Life
Why you gonna be so rude?
I cannot feel happiness
Cause everytime I get too happy
Anything bad happens
It makes my heart hurts
It makes my eyes cries
It makes my soul weaks
It makes my feet shakes
It makes my brain stops
Why you gonna be so rude?
You make me afraid to loving someone
Cause everytime I love someone
Anything bad happens
It makes situation worse
It makes my world empty
It makes my space lonely
It makes my room tiny
It makes my imagination flies
Why you gonna be so rude?
You are like Dementors
You kiss my happiness
Only left bad memories
You make my life colds
You make my life dies
You made my smile gone
You made my future grey
(Palembang, 12 Januari 2015)
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
I say lumos hoping the darkness in my life would fade
I say reparo to see if my broken heart could mend
I say alohomora wishing all the doors would open
I wish there was any spell that could fix my heart that has been broken
I see the dementors,they are everywhere.
They want to kiss away all my happiness
I scream expecto patronum wishing they would disappear
But they are still here, guess my soul will never repair
I scream crucio to feel the pain, but I am numb
I say imperio to take control of my life but it all seems so dumb
'Avada kedavara' I screamed to **** this feel
But guess my pain has no heal
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 10:42 AM UTC
Monsters she had always feared since she were four
They still exist
Even now,
Those terrifying creatures
Breathe and live in her
Deep, deep, deep inside her pure soul
Feeding of her unseen menacing dark thoughts
Slowly ******* her soul like dementors
As she begins to lose herself
They wait until she unleashes them
to the filthy world
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:01 AM UTC
The girl with the tearless eyes,
The girl that cannot cry,
The girl thats always
"Good",
Always
"fine"
And you assume she is because
She's not crying
She's just smiling
So she's fine, right?
But she's putting on a face,
Putting on a mask,
Covering the truth,
Covering the past.
She'll cancel plans last minitue only to assure you she's fine just got caught up in some family ties.
But she's got trust issues deeper than the cuts she tries to hide.
More painful than the lies
And trying to pretend everythings fine.
And the names YOU called her?
Still echoeing in her brain,
Still imprinting,
Still remaining.
But she still tries to fake a smile,
Lay low for a little while,
Walk at a normal pace,
Keep it together!
The lie that you're living is bringing disgrace!
You are a disgrace, everything you are is built around it.
Till she can't even remember the lies from reality,
Did i smile?
Did i laugh?
Or am i still pretending?
She asks herself
As she laughs at the reflection in front of herself.
Will i ever be happy?
She asks head bowed down low in front of herself.
She's not okay,
She's always a lie.
Trying to fix her broken soul,
But the ghosts of the past still haunt her.
They torture her
*******
*******
*******
The life out of her
And the happiness
And the hope
It's like the dementors are coming out into the night.
And she's not fine
But she can't cry
For the tears that once flowed put like niagra falls,
Have dried up like the sahara desert.
And her head is still pounding
As she tries to get some sleep
Still stuck poundering on the everyday life she dreads
Still poundering
Searching
Searching
For her silver saviour,
Hoping to relief the pain she's been feeling in a river of red.
But she puts on a mask and fakes
a smile,
a laugh.
And you assume she's fine,
But she's soulessly screaming
Help me.
Help me.
Help
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:25 PM UTC
i.
as we get bigger
our handwriting gets
smaller
ii.
stars are bigger than
the sky itself
but their light forces
the past into the present
and forces our wishes
into the past
iii.
there are so many
women out there with
my name but
this increases the likelihood
that you've said it
out loud
and identified me
with sound as i have
you
sound travels slower
than light but we are never
alone
iv.
she showed me your
picture with some words
square tight around it
and two dates in the caption
and said
nothing is ever worth this
until i wanted to reach
into the earth just to
cover your ears
v.
the dementors couldn't
distinguish between crouch
and his mother because
this illness doesn't discriminate
so i don't know why
people do
vi.
you and even
i
are lowercase letters
today
with no punctuation
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
The greyness will not go
From my mind, from the world
A dome of haze surrounds this troubled town
Dense, thick, ****** into the ground and out to the sky
From my soul, from the world
I'm not so far from sitting with the wild eyed vagrant
Watching all hope walk away
From my heart, from the world
A cruel twist of fate this is- when it began
Troubles came from a solution
From my pocket, from the world
Thanks to inefficiency, from the privileged
I have no food coming
From my hand, from the world
Dreams of warmth and meagre luxuries
Seem so distant, so impossible
From my head, from the world
If I can't survive this month on air
I shall go from my home
To the street, to the world.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
Mondays are a drain
they are dementors
they feel like an anvil
they taste like recovery
and exhaustion
like your neck isnt strong enough
and your brain is rebooting
i am constantly troubleshooting at life
looking for a solution
to make getting out of bed easier
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 11:25 AM UTC
i’m not compatible
With any codes or formats of the human animal
i’m an identity cannibal
With hungry dementors creeping out my finger holds
i’ll sink my teeth in any other being until i become actual
That’s simply transnational
i’m fictional until proven factual
But what can i truly be called?
i sometimes wonder if i’m an extraterrestrial
Or i could be a disease
You probably wouldn’t even notice
That next to you and inside me too i’m not part of your species
But believe me
If i could be a human i probably would be
Instead of living in the facade of my human personality
Maybe i could be a demigod
A diverging half person while merging with a centaur
Maybe as a child, while meek and mild i was left on the step of a synagogue
And monks and priests prayed over me and summoned up my human parts
Or maybe i’m a deception
And during birth i fell to earth and grew up into a desk job
But late at night when out of sight i transform into an autobot
Tare off my human skin and do some tricks in the parking lot
Or maybe i’m just a person
Who doesn’t really fit into any kind of person list and
Just maybe my ways are little bit reversed and
Maybe next week i’ll send this verse in
Bold letters into the universe and
Just maybe it will send me a tombstone and a hearse and
i’ll just die to the self outside of myself
And become an actual person
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 1:43 AM UTC
Dementors show up,
“Expecto Patronum!” Aye!
You’re my happy thought.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
No kidding.
Someone,
under cover of night
or another invisibility cloak
or thanks to those goblins in Gringotts,
sneaked into Bellatrix’s bank vault
and stole the sword of Gryffindor.
What do you do with
a sword of that caliber?
Do you use it to help
the house elves in the kitchen?
Slicing bread, chopping vegetables, and cutting meat while they stare at you in awe?
Or set it on the shelf in the headmaster’s office
the same shelf above the beautiful fire Phoenix
you watched explode.
Place it next to the snapshot of Dumbledore,
smiling and winking at you
and make tiresome jokes about how it belonged to
Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.
Or do you tuck it in the bottom of the sorting hat that placed you into Gryffindor in the first place,
wrapped in the scarf Fawkes brought you from
Dumbledore’s office?
Do you take it out when you need to defeat the basilisk or stab some horcruxes and you don’t have a venomous fang to use instead?
And do you think there in your common room,
with the dementors circling around the school, and
He Who Shall Not Be Named back again, that you could wield the sword and think you’re the
Chosen One?
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
A seeker of higher meaning
And a wannabe demon
What unites us?
The strange empty feeling
Nothing really
Something about the hardship of staying
Discrepancy between going higher
Or falling lower into
Dark as a pit in the belly of the void
That feeling you cannot escape
Smirking tickling uncomfortably
Squinting as I try to look into its colors
Seeking something to drive away
Overwhelmed panicky lack of sense
To feel complete content and concrete
What do I need?
Perhaps some presence perhaps a breath
Warmth or consolation
Perhaps some kind of heaven
Perhaps a gentle warmth of ****** tide
Or the volcano at the bottom of the spine
Anything is
Never enough or else pointless...
The deep well of chaotic darkness
Penetrates the vision
It's in the color of blindness
In oblivion of madness
In the dark starvation
The ever present dementors' chorus
Frustrated vibration getting the better
Of me of you of the kid who starts the war
Inside his mind inside her heart
Between the legs and within the
Ever leaking grip that cannot contain
All there is to possess
Now inside out
Splattered seeds of distraction and devotion
Striving starvation eager to be filled
By the crispness of green
The redness of alive
Numerous eyes stroking along the length
Of the ego's handle
The kind of pit... food will rot first
Before reaching the bottom
The kind of void oozing odors
Of unfulfilled and fallen
Or desperately giving to avoid
The emptiness of the void
And from that pit I draw the breath
And on the long exhalation I look
OUT
Into the world reflecting the light
Of the ever exploding
Surrounded by texture
Cradling this smallness of a body
And I put the first line on
The smooth white surface
As if a question
And the answer will poor out
Not through the answerless limitations of the mind
But through the hand
Holding this pencil
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 4:08 PM UTC
You would think that death will be wearing a black long cloak;
like Harry Potter’s scary and menacing dementors
You would think that death will be holding a scythe;
like the scary posters that you see on bookstores
but no,
instead of a black cloak
he wears a black coat;
instead of holding a scythe, he uses a pipe to smoke;
instead of backing out
you continued to hand down all your hopes
you can pull out all your clubs
and all your hearts
because in every turn, your anger, he will jumpstart
you can pull out all your spades
and all your diamonds
because in every turn, your bet will turn into thousands
you will never match to him
and maybe that’s why they call him grim
in the end you will realize that you will never win
in the darkness he will pull you in
thinking that it’s too late and now you’ve finally got the clue
that you can never cheat death but death can cheat you.
c.a
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:56 AM UTC
My lips pursed by the power of Albus
as abuse lies dormant under my nose.
Oh how I wish I could be unbridled.
Oh how I wish I could just take a stand.
For now I'll sit in my matchstick palace,
I see the thorns, and I'll offer the rose.
Curse those soul-suckers while I sit idle.
Not Dementors, but family plagues this land.
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 1:25 PM UTC
They describe themselves as such good people
Just because they un-ceasingly chat about nothing
And believe in normal more than heart
Yet who does this save them from?
There is a puppet playing with the light inside peoples souls
Telling them vanity is an answer
As long you you don't need o have questions
Is that freedom?
Being so possessed by mindlessness that that is your mind
Existing by batteries and little keys that tell you
"I'm doing no, just ******* you lifeless."
All they do is smile and gape while dementors kiss
Because society left culture in a delapidated dumpster mutilated
And we all die in the nothing
Baring our scars
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 11:03 PM UTC
They are ******* it- "Them", the lifeless forms
Right out of me - every sliver of contentment;
I feel it leaving me : soul departing a body
Leaving me- the shell of my being.
From my bedroom, I see the slice of life
Pretty blue skies, birds and evergreen trees.
I see my dusted friends by the bed
As "They" perfuse me with their darkness.
My four white walls bear silent witnesses,
But my angel- she stands guard patiently-
Patiently waits as I drown myself in the noises;
Hoping to drive away the dark with the loud raps.
But then "They" last only for so long;
As the goings get tough, I repeat that over-n-over --
Looking for the exit route. I just need to last
Until "They" tire out for today.
For then, that would be my win for the day.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 5:03 PM UTC
You are frightened for thy death
For it wasn't designed for us
But there’s always the last breath
Until Dementors are approaching us
Neither women nor men
Ever wanted a journey in place of forsaken
But we’re a creature that made from sins
For Adan and Eve committed a forbidden
Heaven and Hell
Are you an angel or a devil?
Thou shall do good things
Or thou shall commit sins?
But thy existence may be delightful,
When we desire for good instead of horrible
We are borne to fulfill,
The seven stages of an individual
And not to be cruel,
Nor does the seven sins of being immoral
Manage thy self,
Lengthen thy forbearance instead of a brief
To aim goodness and to demur the mischief
Nor to be a component in a place of grief
Be compassionate to others
To the young blood and elders
Offer them want they need
Don’t be an opportunist or greed
Because life is temporary
To do such thing ridiculously
It is momentary
For us to waste
Therefore, live with integrity
And obtain goodness before thou rest
Fight the lust with purity
Be generous instead of being greedy
Spread the love instead of hatred and envy
And lastly, be a human with responsibility
Although humans make mistakes
But it is for us to learn and not to break,
Our faith in Holy Almighty
And for our souls to be safety
"Thy sins makes you a sinner"
But it'll vanish in a faithful prayer.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Sadness sits in cheeks that knew nothing but happiness
Smiles too wide for this world
Arms too big, too much love and judgment but it scared away the demons
The dementors finally found my heart
And plumped my body with rage
Against myself I waged a war
And eventually
No one won
Everyone went home injured
And my eyes were scared with knowing
That things can’t be and will never be perfect
I trained myself to find imperfections
And reasons to be afraid
So I would never be too happy
Too up in the air
Judged myself so much that I didn't realize that you could be happy and aware at the same time
someone I used to be friends with
named optimism
told me
that awareness wasn't supposed to drag you deep down into the depths of the underground
My happiness was also stemming from fear of being totally alone in my own head, my own space, or in the world- on the street or in a car for too long
So I guess the war left me in crutches, but it also left me stronger
And I didn’t **** anyone, nobody killed me
My joy is still there
Somewhere
Buried under the rubble of buildings fallen
Foundations cracked
I still fake happiness
Fake the joy
Do the job
Try to save the world
And most of it isn’t fake, it’s not fake
It’s just effort
It’s conciosness
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
I have a vivid memory of this one night while I was sitting on your front porch. It was twilight. The streetlights shone dimly, with a warm orange glow in contrast with the dark blue sky. The wind rustling through the leaves of the trees canopied above, with a chill that made the atmosphere itself shiver. My thoughts were so loud through the whispers of the winter slowly freezing over. It felt like I was being consumed by the kiss of the Dementors. It was beautiful yet maddening, like breathe on mirror.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 1:35 AM UTC
Why is it that you pick up your book and read
That's what a young woman once asked me
What is so good, so perfect, about that book
Why does it put in you such an aching need
My answer was as simple as this
My fair lady, there are many reasons
Why I read as much as I do
Partly I read because books bring bliss
I also read to gain knowledge
Whether it be about myths or about sickness
About the unusual nature of man
Or simply reading up on my future college
I read to gain wisdom
Whether I learn about love
Or how light beats darkness
Or simply how to rule my kingdom
I read because it makes me human
It helps me understand emotion
It even makes me feel them
I learn how to use my gifts, however superhuman
I read because it gives me hope
That love can last forever, that I can overcome
That life isn't hopeless, that all problems
Have a solution, no matter their scope
That light beats darkness, that we are givers
That test become testimonies, that I'm invincible
That men become legends, who fight like Spartans
That scars become blessings, that flow like rivers
That we can rival titans, beat sickness, find love
**** demons, destroy dementors, beat sickness
Protect humanity, transcend reality, run freely
Escape captivity and tyranny, this we rise above
Where one says books are an escape from reality
A thing to run to when you're down and lonely i believe that it's not an escape from real life
It's a guide to a better life, someone gave to me
So if you have a question about why I read
Here is my answer to you my friend
I read to overcome the trials in my life
I read so that I know how to lead
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
Words flow from this pounding heart.
Vultures take from my Soul
Like 1,000 Dementors demanding their Tolls
To be collected for riding their
Soul Train
Paying Up
I feel like I'm starting to grow insane
Harpies lecture me on how Happiness can be used like *****
They tell you to feel "Half of the sad"
To balance and create the soul's Equilibrium.
Laughing in their old and lack of street educated faces...
I lean in my seat, proudly, "I've earned my scars"
"I've traveled these roads.."
Like "Frogger" and "His Game"
I've paid the prices for everyday trifles...
"With stronger powers than you..."
"I deserve to intoxicate myself in these "odes..."
Of "The Drug you call Happiness.."
So educate that "Dimwitted Someone"
"Who doesn't know as much as I "
"Or has no hands-on training."
"On life's battlefields."
For "I've been drafted many times"
"Sit. Let me teach you, teachers.."
"Experience sometimes deserves trust.."
"moments of enjoyment for the ease of weight.."
"For you, teachers, have become 'the students'
who I am about to re-educate."
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC