Stained Purity

Artwork by Ryu Eun Hye

A heavy darkness, is draped, and framed around her sullied grief,

For she never thought of his heft, until the severed head

Of her dear father, stoutly rested upon her hollow chest

While she intently stared, through the heavy curtain, of the night,

Into his pale blue lifeless eyes, that almost seemed, to reciprocate,

Was just her eyes, reflected back in the frigid shallow depths

Of her king, whom she once revered, with a kingdom, that despised his rule,

A lost empire, they walk blindly, towards the brim of the cuff,

As the stains of treachery, seep deeply, into the fibers,

Pain, trapped in the talons of deception, running rampid

In the grand castle, housing death, of those fallen to the shrouded blade,

It was the world in despair, perched, upon the young girl’s shoulders

As she softly asks, “Why?”, waiting for those cold lips to part, and answer,

But the eerie dead silence, weighs heavier, than the rotting disjoin,

How could she knock on the gates of sanity, expecting sincerity

When all it does, is ignore the plea of the lost, and of the broken,

But does that mean, the axis you’re buried in, has to be your grave?

A question, she struggled with, as she gently placed her father to rest

Upon the stained royal threading, like the one, sunken into the ground,

She vacated her bed, and approached, her blurred reflection,

Only, there was something else, peering back through the looking glass,

As she crept in close, she found a tight huddle of decapitation,

Painted, onto the folds, in rigid strokes that blended its unsightly disorder,

Which pierced the veil, straight into the heart of her innocence,

She questioned their appearance, searching her deprivation

For clues to clarity, knowing, their presence was the real query,

But her concern, was their striking anger, pervading desolation,

Nothing, but the whispers in her ear, from voices long snuffed

Out of existence, to be resurrected, in her hour of torment,

A glaring stain, that’s all it was, she repeated back, drowning the voices

Suddenly surrounding her, enveloped by their breath,

A rising fog in her narrowing canal, leading her back to the surface,

“Your hands!” – the voices repeated, like a skipping record

Echoing off each other’s final syllable, heard eternally

In her mind, as her fading grip on the tangible, loses the edge,

While these voices, coming from a mirage of floating deceased familiars,

Continued their repetitive chant, and feeling those words vigorously rattle

Against her chest, drowning her, in the avalanche of their onslaught,

Still hearing it’s chime, as it shakes off the rust, a ghost from her past

And a rising chill, that slices through, as time stands still

Atop the broken pendulum, forgotten about amongst the rubble,

Hooked, into her consciousness, as it slithered through her senses

Leaving behind a grave remembrance, like a figure in ragged cloth

Slowly scraping its scythe, along the conscious dread,

She felt it’s jarring slither, invading her temple, tightening it’s grasp,

As she ripped herself out, from the inside, and examined the parasite,

It’s familiar villainous glare, captured, her bewildered attention

And dragged it, with its thorny tentacles, tattering along her entrails,

Purging this alien being, examining it in a stunned silence

As she becomes consumed by this evil, stretching out, spilling

Onto her crumbling perception of her own sanity,

Who were these gruesome faces, glaring, at the poor girl, losing her religion,

Starting her monologue in order to rationalize her madness,

Trying to convince herself, that it was only a haunting mirage,

But then she noticed her cage, was slowly shrinking, tightening its choke

Around the absolute, leaving her gasping and frozen, in it’s imprint,

Grasping her head, as if it was the only way, to keep it attached,

Closing her eyes, feeling for tranquility, to which has dissipated,

Leaving her stranded, alone, in the complexity of this moment,

As “Your hands!” again, reaches out from the infinite darkness

Of her own chambers, where these faces, have found birth,

Or have they been stationary, from before the dawn of her time,

Only now, breaking silence, as they catch her terror-filled attention,

Dragging her sight back towards the perched dominion,

Pulling her in, staggered over, planted back on her stained damask,

And strayed her sight, to what she hoped, was a horrific illusion,

Tucked up intothe bedstead, as the watchful eyes follow, meeting her gaze,

Piercing her shaken soul with their watchful daggers,

Then, in unison, they speak… “Your hands, carried our words

Lost eternally, in the tears crashing down us, for we are known!”

Feeling, the wakening cracks of her dessert tongue

As she forces speech, wide eyed and dismayed,

“Known… by who? What is the reason for this horrifying presence?”

“Your hands carries our weight, our debt, in the blood you spilled.”

Those last words, chimed around in her sunken skull,

The horror still perceived, within her bewilderment,

“Who’s blood?!”… was she already bathing in it, taken from the guillotine,

As she crashed against stone, constructed in her own clouded mind,

Stopping her from cognizance, dormant, upon her padded frame,

As she was afraid to lose her grip, upon the shadow that she cast,

For she did recognize the gazing, frightening huddle,

She bolted herself onto her likeness, speaking to her past, suffocated

Under the anchor she drew upon herself, forced deeper

Into the shadow of her virtue, until the moment it had shattered,

For her empire, collapsed, under the weight of treachery,

Losing sight of anything further, past the point of her father’s doom,

Suddenly the room spun Her around, as the ragged cloth approached

With a dusty veil, draped from its crown, scrapping a scythe of bone

Beyond the deep of its narrow cave, toward her illumination,

And it’s true reveal, slowly pulling back, shedding the darkness,

Divulging, the unkempt veil of matted, and tangled hair

That seemed to blend, into the stained ragged cloth it wore

As it continued to replace, the space between them, groaning,

And dragging its skeletal foot, beyond, onto the foreground of her disbelief,

There, amongst the spinning silence that entwined their convergence,

Was the distant shadow, now in front of her, a glaring reflection,

As her insanity grew from the heart, it was awakened, by her mind,

A sinuous mound in the collapse, down to her frail knees,

Suddenly, the little girl, was a fallen angel, amongst the bones of time,

Her own moment, calcified, while being buried alive, within insanity,

“I know the gruesome expressions on the faces, peering through the shallow’s deep.”

Awoken, by the beast of her own hollowed out incarceration,

She was never far, from its breath, heavy upon her nape

And reminded constantly, of the head she had torn off, by sharp steel,

In order to save an empire, that fell, along with their queen,

But even though she had retired the beast, it tends to rise, eventually.

51422 D. Poe

Love and Horror

He felt alive, was able to breathe, and stir his thoughts

About all, that had been happening to him, within the vacancy

That had become his domicile, still furnishing his bare walls

With closed doors, that hush, the stained path forward,

A sky blue door, rich, in its delicately painted strokes,

And like a stone wall, it forces him to stay stranded in the storm,

A heavy downpour, crashing hard upon his vulnerability,

As it never even creaked, staying silent, staying still,

As another door, slowly stretched open, it seemed so inviting

Until it slammed, just as he approached, a sting from the scorpion

Held in the center, protruding from this stone barrier,

He’s been scouring this earth, for too long, a path of thorns

Frame the way, tirelessly painful exchange of moments,

Searching, past the shallow end, only to be stripped apart

And dragged right back, to where I constantly return,

It’s the horror, of this love story, the doors show no weakness,

As he, seems to be stripped down, exposed and discarded,

Yet he rallies, and approaches a new door, becomes the invited

Perched under the grand chandelier, huddled in its shadow,

And then her sees her descend the shapely staircase

As they embrace each other, and float along the melody

Into the depths of time, running it out, together,

Or was he simply, a man pretending, to be there

Dancing, with the ghost of his fantasy?

Haunted by the Inner Demon

I believed I did, but then the demon inside my head

Reached out, put itself in control, and ropped

Off that person, became an aged faded portrait,

One I admired, absorbed it’s brilliance and vivid emotion,

Then the demon, that stalks in plain open consciousness,

Rattled my head, shifted the entire frame into dust,

I’m trapped, inside my own, in the entangling web

That laps over and over, burying my gated clarity,

The more I struggle, the louder it becomes, deafening

Where I just give in, fold down, within it’s cold grasp

That has eclipsed, the beauty of truth, now lying in mud,

All because, I validated the demon’s spun filth

That slithers through my canal, injecting deceit

Into my malleable mind, I never stood a chance

Against my demon, who has become apart of my persona,

So much so, I can’t distinguish the difference between us,

I might have found my home, but they’ve vanished

Into the furthest lot, while I struggle with the lock,

They’re still there, before me, reaching for the compass,

Following the illusion before them, while I lay buried

In the forgotten sands, pushed further down,

Suffocating the inkling of hope, where is that home

That can calm the storm with her touch, upon the nape

Of my feeble stance, for her scent, softly lingers,

As I look for the silver lining, hoping she’s there, smiling.

A Demon Inside

~Insanity comes from the heart, not the mind.~ A.P. Heart

Would you listen to your mind, whispering cruel words

As the devil does, sinking feelings down into your stomach,

As the heart, watches with tears, steaming down

Creating a puddle, where those feelings drown,

The heart, can do nothing else, but stay witness

To the repression, of what can keep the heart in flight,

That being said, even though the heart is the birth of insanity,

Then, it is the brain that originates what has driven

The heart absolutely insane, some more than those passed,

Be weary of those lost to the overbearing world

The heart seems to be caged in, a purgatory in hell.

Who am I?

Don’t let a year of imperfections crush you,
It has only just begun, so you, destroy the year,
Stand brave against the wind, and inspire
Your own self growth, but don’t call it a resolution,
Be the person you want to be, the one you hide
From judgment and fear, urging to be seen,
The one you may not have even known,
Discover the pain of expansion, while you create
From your inspiring Muse, perched upon your shoulder,
Ask yourself, who am I?

Escape 

The stench of stale death, clears way for the vultures, 

The world’s structures and balance have collapsed 

To the rotting, leaving behind a hollow wasteland, 

Nothing left to survive off of, just a war for ground, 

Life, has nearly been eradicated, the war, is its completion, 

One survivor, stays nomadic in his march, aimless

Through minefields and raging battles, leaving stains 

To be buried by the forthcoming windstorm, wailing 

Against the rogue warrior, who does not break stride, 

The world is lost to storms, clouds above the futile 

Rage of these citizens, continuing their efforts to take, 

Yet here is a man, who travels the scorched barren land

To escape the ghost in his mind, haunting his deconstruction, 

Before the end loomed over, he had light in his eyes 

That was illuminated, by a sweet drift, from her kiss, 

Torn out and set aflame, with only her ash left, covering 

His face, refusing to wash it away, it’s become his shadow, 

Tightly gripped until he discovered his heel, she’s his ghost, 

Trying to vanish from her grasp, as she holds him to the fire, 

In life she inspired him, but in death, she drags him to hell, 

Everyone is in war, where his war lies, no outsider 

Can be ally, for sometimes, we are just the collateral 

Damage, in someone else’s war, against themselves. 

One Star at a Time 


The depth that surrounds you can be overwhelming 

to any new voyager, so ease them in by showing

One star at a time and let them discover 

The complex galaxies that have blended together

 To create the vast land that lays before them 

Let the gate open, let down the shield and find 

The courage, sink all doubts to the crushing bottom, 

You don’t need them anymore, 

Float the key above the clouds where stars 

Have aligned for her, sink the disguise kept 

In the back of your mind, 

Float onto the insanity of the galaxies, 

They are what makes is glimmer brilliantly,

Display it all, one star at a time. 

Deceit

Do you trust the parrot in the cage as it mocks

Your own lie, staging tall over you 

Is the quaking flap of its wing, deconstructing 

The tower from which you dove out from, 

You’re possessed by the Ivory, shimmering

In your dull eye, a fool’s blunder that repeats

Door to door, and alliance with the covert,

Unsheathing the retreat from the light,

Cowering back, into disguises you’ve adopted,

Nurturing it, as you fade out into the common 

Trickle, from a tarnished sink above the waste,

Forgotten as soon as it’s polish went insipid,

Darkness in the midst of self realization,

Overlooked, because your focus is latched

Back to that Ivory tower, and the parrot

Mocking you while singing, embracing 

The stench, exuded by your own ignorance,

Death is the only way out, you’re in too deep,

Suffocating in the snake’s gullet, enamored

By the surface glisten of  your purchased life,

Stripped down naked, do you even know 

Who you are anymore? 

A Fly on the Wall

Riddles infest my burdened, insomniatic mind
Watching, the fly upon my wall, how bored
It must be, peering down at a dented bed,
Then wondering, why not find a more appealing scene,
Am I that entertaining, swimming in misery
Of the mocking tick coming from my bedside clock,
There goes another hour, debating the shit eater,
And just like previous night’s, I’m consumed
By the deep labyrinths that I, trapped myself in,
Until, there came a knock upon my door,
Not the front, but my chamber door,
Despite its haunting peculiarality, I opened it
Finding only an empty hallway, dark and cold,
Silence echoes through, this eerie vacant hall
With my heavy breath fogging my surroundings,
Chilled whispers reach out for me from behind,
I back in, to my chamber seeking for what has crept
Through my gates, and into my unrest,
I feel my entire body, tense up from a horrid chill
Pulsing me up against the far wall,
And then, it appeared to me, in the mist of my breath,
My floating demon, keeping me from dreamscape,
Jumped, into my chaos within, amplifying it,
Until I imploded, forever asleep.

What is normal to the fly,
Is chaos for the spider.

©DorianPoe 2015

Good Vs Evil

Who are you?
What do you feel within, burning
At your chest,
Branded from the stalking voice
Parading in parts of you, undiscovered,
You don’t decide, you are the evil
That was before you,
Seen in the shadows of past,
Or good, shining through armour
But, are you too afraid
To show your valor?
Hoping for a different twist in the story.

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©DorianPoe 2015