Silence, gripping her throat, as her eyes gasp
For air in the fatal heel clicks of his scythe,
Appearing from out the unknown reaches
Of abandoned lives, comes the cold shadow
To rape her of color, drag it while it scrapes
The hardened path to the underbelly of Sanity,
The demons playground, populated by the lost
And scorched by all those who continue to fall
Into the grasp of it’s engulfing sand, buried
On impact, as she feutily battles
With the dragging noose of that fable,
Shedding doubt, while the darkened fog
Swarms her mind’s sonnet, distracting
Her unsteady clutch around the fading light,
For all she desires before the inevitable plunge
Is one last glimpse, of those she’ll miss,
As the battleaxe slips from her grip, darkness
Comes toward her, places it’s cool hand upon
Her, and lulls her into it’s keep, tearing away
From her, all that she has nurtured
In her own arms, all that she frays for,
All the years of cuts and bruises on her heart
From this raging war that she bravely fought
To stay above the hollow echo, only to fall,
For death will always be the victor here
Despite our best efforts and strength,
She carries with her, the marks of victory
Throughout her war, that aged her well,
She’s now ready to let go.
Taming the Beast
She graces his cheek, with her frightened hand
As his subtle scuff of breath, envelopes her
While she dives into his chest, searching
For his battle drum at ease, trekking
His wielding arm, up to his inflamed chest,
Finding, along the way, scared lashes
From withstanding speared pitchforks
And shattered shards of glass, broken upon
His thick snakeskin that she breaks through,
And lull the Beast’s tenacious rage,
Her hand, presses gently on his stone gate,
A petal, decending down onto broken ground
Filling the cracks from its silk and perfume,
The Beast submerged with his beauty,
Her serenity from her smile and touch melts The stone, and gives way to her influence,
She tamed the Beast, and found his heart,
But sleeping demons, never stays unseen
As a crashing fire, bursts in through silence,
Tidal wave of fear under an uproar breaking down
And into a private and secure ground
That had just been set to rest upon a mantle,
The Beast wakes, but fears his own claws,
He sets his beauty in safety’s tall tower
And runs into the ingesting battlefield,
In the madness of the attack, the demons
Are lost to the beast and unearth his beauty,
They vanish back to their domain, celebrating
How they eradicated their foe
By removing the serenity that he lived for,
For without his beauty, there was no taming the Beast.
©DorianPoe2016
Strength
She carried the coffin on her shoulders
To the grave atop the hill, where the vultures
Circled high in palm of the pending storm,
Not shaken off from the teetering ledge
As she balances every crushing avalanche,
But what hides, behind impenetrable glass
Tinted by the film she, herself created,
So thick in its darkness, no one ever sees.
Tumbling Down
He stood there at His side, the slinking wraith
With its sheer persuasion crippling reality,
Time lapses in the whirlwind, as the soaked
Knife crashes on to the painted tiles, Splattering the fresh pattern,
As the wraith grins, tightening
Its grasp around His mind, letting the ballast
Carry Him further out, losing sight,
Another soul consumed by Sanity,
Its own enemy, fishing for the dead drowning
In the impenetrable molasses,
The wraith never left Him, not for a single tick
Before it filled it’s belly, left the hollow shell
In the dwindling, choking on the vanishing,
The pole snapped in the fisherman’s hold
As He, tumbled down into the abyss.
Between the Growl and the Fog
My escape has been stunted, by the murky unknown
That stretches out before me, radiating
The creeping darkness, crawling towards me
From out the thick blindness, that I must get through,
The decaying bridge wavers in my hesitation
As the growling, grows louder behind me
Shaking the stiffled limbs that refuse to thaw,
Where will I be, if I strain into the ingesting fog?
Can I truly outrun the steady pursuant familiar
With my stench, studied my vacant steps
In the forever desert of consciousness,
Can I hurdle the giant’s stalk to make it past
My glooming premonition, stalking me,
Slithering my step an inch further down
While the growl pervades and interrupts the silence,
Which, in turn, forces another inch by inch
Until I’m fully immersed, into the coddling,
Sentenced to the overshadowed distance,
Lost, to the growl that has plummeted down
Into the looping void, still in its search,
I’ve failed in my escape, I’ve chosen the wrong side.
Dead World
What tells me to keep going
When all around, has dissipated
Into the nothingness of the apocalypse,
The skeletal streets and alleys
Stalk my unavailing wandering into the far
Glimmer of hope, sinking into despair,
The midnight drawl carries dread
That tonight carries into further nights,
Haunted in the ghost of eradication.
Stolen Senses
Do you dare to turn away from the door,
Slowly creaking, as it opens to show
Its daunting depths, your enemy reaching
To tear your life out and bring it back
Into hollow emptiness, feeding starving vultures,
But you pin yourself, tightly into the corner’s edge
Locking, your tiring gaze upon the oozing dark
Slithering under the bed, and over your head,
Pinching your lips shut, to suffocate any whimper
To not give away your voice,
Squeezing your eyelids until they wrinkle
To not give away your sight,
They hunger for it, feeling for vulnerability
Of the glass, holding in the quicksand,
The rattle of its drag along the room hisses
In your ear, as you realize
You’re left open as it takes your hearing,
Your heart plummets as you open your eyes, blind,
Gasping, but no sound emerges,
You’re left, vacuous,
Stolen senses by those who feed on them.
©DorianPoe2016
The Resident
In the midst of my journey, I’ve contracted
A villainous disease, tearing away at me
While I stare out into a world, I can no longer
Grasp, for it baits me further into emptiness,
Starved from exploration, in seclusion, Withering inside the shell of death
Carving days gone, into my surroundings,
Shut in, as deterioration shows its face to me,
This curse, has bound me to the heavy clock
That struck twelve before I wound the heart,
Memories stolen right from my clutch
By the trickling absolute, crawling
Along the spine of the bruised plane,
Making its web thick over corrosion,
Lifting life, out from every nerve left pulsing,
The window gets tighter, in the span
There are fewer things felt and seen,
A stationary ladscape, one I can not climb
In an exploration of its sights, it’s majesty,
The shadows hush over me, desecrating
My hollow dome, slowing pace while
Spreading this contagion to the surface,
My host, crippled by the shackles
Around him, purging all he has accomplished
To drown into depths never seen,
Atop that mountain, before we broke
Is where we left ourselves, to now mourn
Memories never to be remembered
In the fading, down at the bottom by the dirt,
Ready to be lowered into eternity,
We explored, but can’t recall the Arctic chill,
We felt the crumble of stones beneath our feet
But can’t find the scars it left, with these Wrinkles, crowding the painted canvas,
Laid to rest, the journey ends without effect.
©DorianPoe2016
Thirst for Chaos
This rubble here, used to be a home,
Whispers of what once was, lingers in the ears
Of darkness, where these remains rot,
Memories and dreams, charred beyond thought
And recognition, in a still sleep, smoking
Amidst the forever residents, blended
Into the debris, left in the forgotten,
A sunken ship atop the exploded volcano,
No more life, no more cool breeze
Waking up the house where a family vanished,
Into fragile ash, crushed in the fine breath
Exhaled from their enemy, roosted upon demise
Of what he couldn’t bare to see, the good
Without any overcast, there needed to be chaos,
And in the calming of the after, he struck a match
To the gullet of this well made home
Just to watch it burn and swallow happiness,
All so he could smile watching from Olympus.
©DorianPoe2016
Out From the In
I found myself, in the dwelling of beasts,
Not beaten, or scared of growling shadows
That hunt, for their next ravaging night,
The devil in them, fills innocent hearts
And turns their light black, taken underground,
And lives with their rapists, myself being one,
I revel in the shedding of their curls
As my friends and I pillage the wasteland
Above the limbo they never wake from,
I shroud myself in the muck, yet before
The incident, I was absent from reality,
Stuck in savagery, and I never flinched away,
I stampeded toward it, greedy for my meal,
Now, I fear my unquenchable hunger
Until I saw her, taken by my fellow demons,
About to tear her flesh, and devour her soul,
Her eyes struck me, encompassed in her shutter,
I pulled them off, saving her from becoming
Our feast, but putting myself, on the plate,
I suggest comfort while we dine, some class,
They agreed and we brought her down below,
Locked her away, until we were ready
But I would never be ready, ever again,
I snuck to her pin, tried to converse with her
As she hid away from me, my beastly exterior,
I hardly understood why, was she aware
Beyond the havoc, that I crushed bones
Within my chomp, and left little scraps,
She feared me and my entire pack,
I couldn’t give her in, she stirred alive
Complexities that had never surfaced before,
I begged her to look at me, to capture
Her glimpse at me that set me free,
She did, and dropping a tear into the dust
Reviving in me, what was lost to the blindfold,
We finally talked, expressed fears and guilt,
As I shed my beast, into man,
I needed to save her from the horror
And disgust that was coming for her,
I was ready to sacrifice myself, for her safety
So that she would tell this story to others,
Warning them of the evil that lurked inside
What was a man, tainted by sinners,
We heard footsteps trickling down, as I hid
Waiting in the shadow, then pounced
On a supposed friend, and had an idea,
A meal would be served tonight, but she
Would not be the honorary delight,
She would flee to the surface, and vanish
From ever being seen by these animals,
The stage was set, as I brought over
The silver platter to the salivating demons,
All the while they’re shoveling
What they believed, was innocence in curls,
Was in fact, their fallen turbulent brother,
Suspicions arose, when they noticed
I had not taken a single bite, which caused
Growls and uproars, as my facade faded,
What else to do, but to take as many of them
Down to the fire pits below our cave with me.
©DorianPoe2016
the_dorian_poe's Blog 