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Anonymous Freak Feb 2019
Bare skin in the snow,
She wasn’t prepared to be here.
Something decorative, out of place
In a transitioning landscape,
The darkness hides her footprints,
So she doesn’t have to remember the wrong turns
When they’re hidden in the night.

I don’t know how I ended up lost here,
But I can’t remember not being in this wood.
The air tastes like decaying leaves
And attempted young life,
The barren trees scratched at the sky,
Trying to hook their branches into something beautiful,
Perhaps because they remember that they too
Were once beautiful,
And harsh reality made them envious.

The trees were once breathtaking,
My youthful thoughts and emotions
Were once a kaleidoscope of warm pleasure
And entertainment.
But that’s all I remember of them,
I cannot remember comfort, or the introquet
Design of enjoyment.

It’s been what seems like an eternity now,
This place of cold wandering
Feels like the only life left to live,
It was hard enough to become accustomed to it,
How can she let all she knows be taken from her again?
She built her own small fortress out of branches
To keep her from having to look at the unsettling
Righteousness.

Trees are like emotions and circumstance,
The thicker they are… the more dense,
And you cannot see a way out of where you are,
You cannot possibly know
That there’s another way to go.
It makes it tempting to leave it all behind,
Bathe myself in the tranquility of nothing,
Feel the complete apathy
Wash into my mouth,
Flood my brain,
Swirl my hair around my forehead like a halo
So that I might tell myself
It’s right to not try anymore.
Cloud my vision in murky water I can die in
Instead of harsh branches, I can hide in.
All I am is lost.

She had found a way to feel comfortable In ice,
If you don’t know what it’s like to be warm,
If you don’t… Remember.
Why would you leave certainty for the unknown?
She became at ease in her woodland,
Her lost disposition,
Her unclear decisions.

I stumbled upon death on a path in the wood,
Examined the inky black
Soft and littered with water droplets on the ground.
It was only a piece of what had once been free,
And here it was,
Unresigned to it’s fate.
I turned back.

The wing flew back into her mind,
She knew in that moment
A lit up pathway out of the place of in between
Was a gift
That others lost here
Had fought for.
It was time to move on,
Even if it wasn’t clear where.
Adam Aug 2019
7
Seven deadly sins,
Seven ways to win,
Seven open gates to hell,
Summon all ye in…

Greed is but a manacle
A shackle of the soul,
A simple, tiny spectacle
Like jewelry out of coal’s,
Just enough to incite
Jealousy bereft of thought,
Void of any respite
Lest it be divinely taught.

Envy’s what I’d wished it be;
I want, what you have got,
Love and health, prosperity,
Fills up that empty spot.
Seething, as I know, not I
Doth have that for myself,
Green is but another eye
Of one more sinful elf.

Pride tells me I'm perfect
Yet I have no benching mark,
I'll feign a type of respect
Insincere, and yet so stark.
Resent; that I am godly
And I am the only one,
Who’ll ever really be me
Every other-one I shun.

Gluttony’s a cancer
Seeping deep inside of thee,
As vacuous an answer
As the tale of bird and bee,
Confuses every sinew
Of my ever wanting will,
Finding as I imbue
Ever more, the less it fills.

Wrath is vitriolic,
Manifesting in a rage,
Hellishly historic
And unable to assuage,
Pangs of utter rancor
Like inside of a McCoy,
Held in, like an anchor
Serving only to annoy.

Sloth is but a bother,
Must I really wake; arise?
Can't I find another,
Simple way, to vitalize?
The lethargy I harbor
Saturating every bone,
Seems to be the arbor
Of another sin I own.

Lust is lorded over
Every other sin before,
Where even Casanova
Can be turned into a *****,
It doesn't seem to matter
Be it avarice or pride,
Even saints can shatter
When they let the sin inside.

Seven angels flew,
Seven demons knew,
Seven tiny ways to turn,
Sins into virtues…

Seven dark and days,
Seven men, and clay,
Seventh, to the second is
Seven other ways...

Charity is giving
Even if we can't afford,
To aid another’s living
For whatever the reward,
Addicted to the feeling
Of a satisfying want,
Happily appealing,
To a virtuous détente!

Kindness isn't easy,
But, surprisingly; it is,
Polarizing envy,
And resulting in a kiss,
Bringing all together,
Every culture, born apart,
Clipping to the tether
And rejoicing in a heart.

Humility is nascent,
And it lies in every man,
Siblingly adjacent,
Vying for an upper hand,
Finding fallibility,
Is central to us all,
Strength, is the ability
To overcome the gall.

Temperance is chemo,
For a gluttonous habit,
Mostly incognito,
Underwhelming and rabid.
Curbing every impulse,
That we have, to satiate,
Sitting out the very waltz
Meant to ameliorate.

Patience is the lifting
Of an anchor weighing down,
Set a-sail, and drifting,
So the anger doesn't drown,
An unresigned behaviour
Like a stoic tolerance,
Pleasing all, in favour
Of another second chance.

Diligence is known by
A resounding scrutiny,
Even in my own eye
It compels the slovenly,
Who’ll revive the luster,
Of an eon once before,
And tentatively muster
Absolution’s very core.

Chastity’s a virtue
Maybe antiquated now,
Purity's own purview
Seems unwilling to allow
An amalgamation
Of one's body and of heart,
Hereto the formation
Of a marital restart.

Seven ways to lose,
Seven secret clues,
Seven simple sacraments,
Seldom do they chose…
This is the beginning of a suite of 7 poems I am going to write.
First poem is the 7 sins
Second is the 7 virtues
Third (working on now) 7 punishments
Fourth 7 arch Angels
Fifth 7 wonders of the world (natural)
Sixth 7 wonders of the world (manmade)
Seventh - haven't worked that out yet
Satsih Verma May 2019
It stuns.
A vampire bleeds
the vein of black moon.

Unresigned,
I pursue the path
of your historical pain.

What provokes
your inner beast to become
your own light
to enter the darkcaves.

The stone tools
cross your footprints.
A python tries to swallow sun.

You steal,
not imitate my golden words
to become immortal.

— The End —