Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sofia Kioroglou Dec 2015
Bethlehem,
so remarkably unimpressive
and yet so holy.
I long to visit you
Small and humble
but great and glorious.
Hic de Virgine Maria Jesus Christus natus est
an inscription reads
as I get to a grotto.
A fourteen-point silver star
embedded into the marble
is now indelibly embedded into my memory
scorching its way into my heart
burning the moment into my brain.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
God,

Shalt thou taketh me soon?
For there's no room in thy delight for such a pest.
I've done so less,
Yet not mine own best......
In thine created fashions!!!!

For I haveth none more passion for living
Just pills to ****
Lyrics to numb
To be dumbed down in deadened tracks,
Still sinning!!!!

Fate wilt surely break me down
For thy ground is readily fastening this vest!!!

Forgiveth me heavenly one
May I be blessed as these wrongs I stand to roar.....

To unearhtly shores
I will divine into,
No more need's for ties nor shoes
Color's to flutter the palate!!!!!

None more hurt nor malice
Just ancestor's of old to showeth me foretold knowledge!!!

No school nor college to be needed
Not this heart
To be broken

Just a soul plunged and blet!!!!

God taketh me in angelic abyss
For I will not be missed
For this world knoweth not love,
It knoweth me not!!!!!!!

It never wanted to.....
This is old poetry I think written before I went to prison can't remember... Maby written while in prison lol either way older
Timothy Miller Jun 2014
Fields of green lay beneath my feet,
Behind me rings Civitate Vox,
Before me sits moldering Nox,
As the voice of Nil calls to meet.
The shroud passes as in a dream,
Shades carrying its murky cloth,
Repenting for their sin of Sloth,
Forever sewing up the seam.
Then passed by the god, Terminus,
Who froze enemies as he gazed,
But now upon him was emblazed,
That "Oblivio est natus."
Hush! Sullen silence overcame,
The crevasses around this world.
A lonely shadow came unfurled,
And birthed a Being with no name.
This Being bore no human mark,
Save for the grin upon its face,
As darkness flowed between each space,
Of triangular teeth of shark.
It stalked around my person here,
Its stride as long as three of men,
Three times around this deathly glen,
Its aura seeping unmasked fear.
At last it stopped and looked to me,
Silence growing ever closer,
Causing panic to come over,
Despite it had no eyes to see.
The panic then came from my slit,
In the shape of a primal yell,
And from that hollow, hell-bent shell,
"Silentium!" commanded it.
And so my voice was cleanly cut,
Cords of my throat now snapped in two,
Blood now coated my teeth like dew,
And finally my mouth was shut,
As flesh fused my lips together.
No horrid sound could I utter,
In stoic prose or rambled stutter.
Silent I will be forever.
The Being's face was newly formed,
From that devilish grin of its,
A visage now perceived befits.
My maw was on its face, deformed.
Again three times it strode around,
As my blood poured out of its jaw.
The crimson river from that maw,
Beneath its feet did dye the ground.
It beckoned to a forest near,
The dusk-lit glen in which we stood.
I followed it as fast I could,
As between the trees it did veer.
Nearing a cliffside, it brought me,
To the rocky-edged precipice,
Underneath which began its lease,
Of beautiful infinity.
"Behold the splendor," rang our voice,
As it reached out to the vision,
But at the edge was a fission,
Between reality and choice.
My eyes feasted on the beauty,
In the instant he gouged them out,
As "Caecus!" I heard it shout.
Only crimson shadows I see.
Then forward I went, down and down,
The blackness of the cliff around,
As I neared closer to the ground,
But in Acheron did I drown.
Woefulness overcame my soul,
But not a drop did I dare sip,
Until I felt the Being's grip,
Which saved me, but it takes its toll.
I coughed upon the ashen soil,
Which now filled my tortured breathing,
And with sight no more deceiving,
I heard demons' infernal toil.
Now one Eidolon did I see,
Amidst the never-ending night.
The Being strode into my sight,
Holding my eyes with dreadful glee.
He raised them up into the sky,
And into his face pressed them both.
"At last I see!" the Being quoth,
And uncovered his only eye.
A final thrice he strode around,
As I turned to maintain his stare,
And with horror realized that there,
Was no soul in it to be found.
Its heartless gaze bore to my core,
Now as it stopped, it told me this,
"Now Oblivio est omnis!"
And so it was forevermore.
Andrew Vitans Dec 2019
For the good and the bad
Never wished on me gore
Can't go far from my bed

You'll not tell me anymore
Like you promised all this
Consulating me with a "no more"

Sed eam fecisti

I'd never regret my choise
Like trust to be thrown away
As you'd not tell me what it is

Remember the first time on May
How can you forget it
When all the fears I threw away

Durāre non poterat

As I notice ya' strange for a bit
My sixth sense never lies
I realise that ya' made it

How direct my being wise
Put all the guilts all over
Feelin' it never seemed so nice

Novum moralis natus est

Forget me to be a lover
And never come back
I'm a heartless, it's over
This is the first lyric of a collection of poems.
The title of this work which includes more poems is "Heartless Soul" and tell about my personal experience about being heartless after getting used in a relationship several years ago.
I'll post one poem every day.
The phrases you might not understand are written in latin and these works are 100% written by me.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
i might be of fringe opinion...
thank god...
can you imagine
sacrificing yourself
                to a mob's bidding!
death to the mob,
and the unlikely concentration
of a solidified,
isolated instance of
vox natus crux.
Kurt Philip Behm Apr 2020
When man came out
of nature's womb
—God was born

(Wiinnipeg Canada: September, 1992)
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2020
we went fishing, we went cycling...
the best years
circa 2002 through to some other
circa...
we went to forever distant places...
we allowed ourselves to
stomach heights of mountains...
now come to "think" of it...
i have tabloid and graffiti where
bow-ties and mourning should be...
the world just preserves
this insistence to continue:
with or without a status quo...
because today i am shuffling into
a currency: the world so happens...
the anglophone sphere is
insomniac awaiting election
results... i'm hardly invested in it...
i wish to be so oh so concerned...
that i might forget - yet now remember:
the reconquista of much
of europe for the ottoman turks...
but it's not like the turks are arabs...
never mind...
               i itch with skin i tease
myself over an asset that's these eyes...
i sip a glass of water,
ciemnota that is gladly ruled over
by counterfeit, bb'ah'ah... bb'ah'ah...
actors...
less of what's to be done
and more of what's to be...
how i imagine myself being (a) man
rather than doing the expected
manly-"thing"...
          if it was oh so simple
that we were all born turtles...
with knowledge of plumbing apparatus....
i am less as being
and forever diminishing as having
done... employed by a "miracle"
of the undo...
               revision quest...
there's no reality of a gaping hole
or: ex nihil stalking me:
  no: born of death....
              latin! latin!
          natus ex mors...
we went fishing and how we bicycled
around a never-ending stupidity
how i extended my youth
while you preserved your old age...

grandma was a ***** to the last...
no?
  3 months to spare...
she could have noted: he's not feeling
well... some aid would be nice...
i feel cheated my heart
thrown into a heap of stones...
i'm expecting a heaving lung
in return...
not this close...
not from family this anger arch... ing
to subdue my unfathomable
shadow, come noon,
come the moon:
puppet! how's lore?!

she could have called and said:
instead of 2 day's worth of baggage:
you're in the hospice breathing
your last...
i wake up to a tomorrow
and hear the north.east.west.south...
apparently you're dead...

for all those estranged examples
of dictated family...
i should have extracted ms. *****
from your wife: my grandmother:
how she would suddenly be found
gloating: pinning you to
a pampers **** soaked... etc.
gruesome details: n'est ce pas?

she was so adamant about inheriting
your pension...
she was moreover adamant
on me taking out 500zł each day:
it's not like you amassed a lot of savings
to begin with...

over 7K... dutiful grandson...
i remember when she first encouraged me....
you were drunk and i would be stealing
pennies from your trouser pockets
left hanging on a chair in a room
of much darkening...

well... there's no unthinking this one
through: i'm the better drunk than
you will ever be: i fathom a need to
write some odd doodle while you
were exhausting the last remains
of memory cinema...

i'm gaining friction from people who
have started to notice:
i am not using english
with any orthodoxy, catholicism or
the sushi entree of protestantism...
looks like this language
i alone must own:
i will not be among the throng
of false prophets speaking
to the natives for corrections...

i own all that is readily available...
the natives can go burn
wickers and churches: in all honesty!

TUMANY...

                   it's theirs? they loosely(,)
just disguised themselves:
as... hinter...
          and the lapsing of aggrieved:
solo quests...
their native language doesn't translate
back...
it's theirs or is it simply mine?
how much this integration will allow...
i need more heads decapitated
saluting lazy tongues on pikes:
i am sure!
before the zombies will start sleeping: again!

if i were to stress my:
formality all too readily...
i remember days when we used to go
to school...
and meningitis was rife...
and a rifle too...
and we complied to the details
of the herd...

but not this, not now...
i can get a haircut i also can:
sure as hell wait for an irritating death
from a toothache!
sooner the pains from
a bad-hair-day...
i'm waiting for my teeth to
grow into fangs...
into elephant-esque tusks...
since my mouth will be unable
to impossibly keep them...
but my hair is more prompted
as: kept attention of "detail"...

suicide never made more sense:
all the excuses are in situ:
on the ready...
and i wouldn't even want
to blame these explorers...

             as ever: english in the "gulag":
how dasein translates into
"concern":
how happiness could ever be
substituted for inquisitiveness...
mind you: my eyes are darting
fathoming a whirlwind...
a roller-coaster...

i was debriefed by happiness
once...
i left the same sullen & sulk
signature as i ever might...
it didn't budge teasing an amassing
zombie-feud...
to begin or end with...
after all... i was born into a land-mass
that once claimed pride...
from sea to sea:
the baltic and the black sea
was, "in question"...

land-locked manoeuvres -
too many ******* vowels!
too many ******* vowels!
              there was a part of me
that somehow understood the genius
of the russians:
hence all that jazz of russophobia...
but there was no need
for claustrophobia and a siberia
pairing...
ugly feelings: mostly hurt...
or somewhat...
the terrible price of disgruntling
a slab of turk:
having confused it with a slobbering
over, over a camel jockey's arab
surprise...

saudi promises regarding
yemen...
                and all that was to remain
of bahrain...
like syria...
thank god for the closures
of the "ummah"...
bite the horn: ring the tonsils:
a church bell's worth of an uvula!
tongue this gluey
extract: my teeth a soothing
coming together: hey presto!
a shell for this slothing cringe
feast...

my grandmother with 3 months spare...
you told me:
ring me each month...
check up on my whereabouts...
i could have expected so much
from strangers...
"fwends"...
not from the ugliest
floral pattern of **** that was
a granny..
you were a drunk:
i'm a better drunk of the whole lot
of us two: twinned...

this unrelenting presence:
to have been allowed witness of your body
so well fashioned for
a funeral: mr. navy...
mr. now...
            
        i suppose a thank you is in order...
81 years in waiting is
the only way to die...
there's no need to tease turtles
with envy that extends into
a century...

now i want to remember edinburgh
through 2004 to 2007...
it could have been manchester...
it could have been an itch
like southampton...
pressure me... creases of
a Penzance... reverse the tide i probably
couldn't...

perhaps i want to chase learning
a game of chess...
perhaps i want to relive those summers
i lay on the balcony and read
the books i read..
in your abrahamic *****...
cheap-chow-mein-of-wording...
here's me... better clued-in...
better suited to sniffing the *****-feel
of 1980s pop music...

little ol' grandma i will hardly:
perhaps at best in my heart
i'll be wanting to **** on her grave...
perhaps i was expecting
something dramatic...
some phenomenon...
naturally... esque-borne revelation...
some earthquake some
waking into...

not how you seemingly "merely", "passed"....
ol' grandma: i wish to have her
shackled into a niqab: because
i last sentence these provocations
when i wilt to solve the crossword puzzles
with a 7am and a coffee...

death didn't rob me of what
you had already stressed:
the mortal feign...
            i had 3 months to spare...
detail for me the breaking
of the riddle of conscience...
                 i have to heave this last
salvage pin-point...

while "we" must be dictating....
people's loop
crescendo limiting bogus....
hey no new presto!
welcome
to grief... the limbo cowing-tie...
my litany of arbeit:
macht... frei...

             now that i dare
merely think it...
robespierre...
                 i heave ol'
yo-yo... because no one
would heave such
exhaustions.

— The End —