I’m banished to the unspoken,
Where fevered nights last beyond
It’s toll, paid by a dark smile,
Dragging the chains belonging to those
Fused to the brittle walls
That sharpen their daggers,
Only to dig out their own hearts,
I’m at the dock of a screaming river
Where lost bleeds onto it, carrying it
On it’s paddled tide,
From out the fog of despair
Comes the stalking boat,
I dig through my pockets, empty
Still digging,
Hoping to carve the toll I need,
Non left upon cold eyes,
As it nears the huddled dock
The boat thuds against it,
Shaking my insides,
From out the nothingness of the cloak
That rows the floating carrier
A hand of rotting bones
Spilling maggots from its reach,
Pulls for me,
Waiting for my part of the barter,
The cloak senses my silent beggary
Without even facing my way,
An open palm slowly molds
Into an outstretched pointing finger, but
Not at me,
To a black cavern
That might as well be part of the wall,
It’s oblivion in this afterlife,
I collapse to my knees
Tugging on the heavy drapery
That pays me no attention,
Still pointing
Towards the engulfed wind,
The ferryman enraged, lifts his oar
Bringing it down upon the ground
Where I’m kneeling,
Giving it a violent quacke,
Then reverts back to pointing
At my eternal chasm,
I rather the immortal inferno, but
No penance for the ferryman
Brings about, an interminable wait.
A Key to a Heart
The gears have stifled,
Clouds stalking in a chill
That grows, in violent winds,
She plunges into the pillow
Swimming deeper, hoping
To suffocate constant devastation
Of the blind mistakes,
The key to her heart, shared by
Many paralyzing owners,
Villains, of the castle nestling her heart
Play with the daggers they aim,
Careless with the key, as they
Drudge her oceanic pool
Where she fears to dip a toe,
She eludes the shackles of those
Who purposely, trample her heart
As the stars crowd the moon,
Falling to the beaten path,
She gets locked away
While her heart, isn’t as heavily guarded,
For it can’t take another lash
Upon its weakened gears,
One more, and the entire castle
Would tear itself down,
So, she escapes into her own
And buries all emotion,
All hope,
To stay alone in the shadows,
Keeping her heart beside
And the key, not even she
Knows it’s hiding spot.
Quote it: Edgar Allen Poe
You can spill blood of a tongue,
Onto the simple page
Blankly reaching for a pair of eyes,
Vacant of color and luster,
You can betray the fleeting sea
By sinking the shallow ship,
Shine light, upon the hidden corner
That has been lost in the murk
And no ship will sink,
No page will be left alone.
Future
How transparent is the road ahead?
How many hands claw at you
As you mud though the prickling road?
Do you find yourself being pulled back
To the place where you’ve been burnt?
Have you been stranded here long,
Looking at the blind compass
Battling the barking low
Of what you left behind,
What do you see, on the plateau
In the still yonder?
Or are you taking steps in the preceding?
Long Way Down
It starts to crack,
Heavy feet upon
The fainting window pane
That he, weighs himself upon,
Forced and enclosed,
Looking for Houdini’s key
As the twisted arm
Of the counting man
Does not hesitate to tick,
Each crack bellows louder
As he frantically searches, for the exit,
The clocking hand racing
Towards the finale,
Eager to see him fall into the pit,
Where he will be swallowed whole
By the beast that stalks the end,
How can he free himself
From this entanglement?
How does he mold back
The glass that has suffered?
Feverish cracks continue,
Shattering the glass he perched on,
The click of the killer clock
Is gratified.
Think, write, create
You live within the storming forest
Where the leaves, hide
Characters, the taller, and older
The trees get,
Still wild and colorful
Inside the shrinking woodland,
They get harder to see,
As the shrouding thickens,
The tightening fist
Holding the fragile cluster of trees
Excreting out creativity,
Forcing it to walk the plank
Into the lost.
The Nurtured Monster
Stab upon the weak,
Motionless in dirt
As their blood slithers
Around the anthill,
Following the path of the killer
Staining the trail of breadcrumbs,
Charming the blood snake
Into the grave,
He smiles at the grizzly sight
Finding his lullaby,
He has satisfied his lust for death
Between meals of the glutton,
As the parasites eat away
At the fragment of sanity,
Making his craving insatiable,
It claws at his chest
Ripping him from the inside
Until,
He feeds the monster living inside him,
Losing chunks of himself
Sacrificing it down to his fevered seed,
Sprouting throughout him,
Taking control
Never letting go of the wheel,
Fully immersed in the lunacy
Of the poison he ingested,
Jekyll, no more,
He lives in the metamorphoses
That he subjected himself to,
Death is his love,
Death is his drug,
Death, is his beginning,
And it needs to be his end,
A sliver of what was
Climbs its way out of shrouded villainy
To stab weak
Inside.
Rebel for A Cause
I am a rebel,
For I write my mind
And share it with the world,
Or with those who dare
To peer in,
I rebel against silence
And the decay,
I am a rebel with the mighty pen
Nestled in my hand,
Parchment of the wall
That will not come down,
Eternally, a rebel.
The Reasons
She waits for him
On the island suspended
Above the ugly,
She waits for his warmth
To burst above the horizon,
She patiently counts the ticks
Of the echo
That builds upon her anticipation,
Needing him
To calm her soul,
To nurture her dry heart,
She waits in the tundra orbit
Alone, amongst the crowd of stars,
Until he lays beside her,
She beckons for him
So that she can grow,
She does all this
Without realizing her strength,
That it is she
That is needed by him,
She is the picturesque illuminating
The hidden dark,
She stands taller than the
Light reaches,
He can not compare
To what she does to him,
He burns passion
Above the methodical
For her,
She is his reason
For the short winter,
But when she’s gone,
His fire, grows silent,
The lap around the earth
Is to once again,
Find her
On that solitary island
Where she waits for him.
Fight
Find the light in negative spaces,
Turn dark corners to sun bathed arches,
Find the sorrow face in the bleak abyss And recognize it’s presence,
Fight against the dying of art
By sharing your experiences.
the_dorian_poe's Blog 