Awoken by Fear

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

He whispers out to her, from nowhere,
Terrified of the shadow
Cast by a stalking reach,
The glow emanating from beyond
It’s stance,
Entrancing her closer,
Trembling, in the warmth of it’s breath
She looks down
Watching, her feet move
Against her own resistance,
She knows she’s at the door
Of it’s stolen domain,
She feels it’s presence crushing her
So much, no sound echoes
When she opens her mouth,
The sleek brush upon her arm
Makes every hair stand at full attention,
She shoves, whips the door closed,
Runs to her bed and finally shrieks!

Her mother sloshes into the room
Sits beside her little girl,
Assures her that there are no monsters, Kisses her on the forehead
And tucks her in.

The closet door creeks open,
As a hand slithers down it’s side,
Stirring the fragile silence
While keeping her, in the gates
Of the monster’s eye.

Let it be

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

Let our hearts plunge to the depths
Of the unforeseen corner,
Do not place that harness net
Above the whaling waters
With waves swallowing and crashing
Upon the sharp stones,
Let our hearts free fall asleep
Until the never ending,
Encapsulated in stone now
Until warmth of the sun
Can pierce the black of the ocean,
Let it lay at the belly of the best
Listening to the entrancing sound
Of crushing wings, as we fall,
Let it be, let it be,
I hear no words of wisdom,
I shall fight.

Songs of a Trickster

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A little boy crouched in a chair
In a shadow of a corner,
Sneering at his toy resting on the bed,
The toy is a doll wearing a mischievous smile,
Said to be the spawn of Loki
The doll, named Rufus found it’s home
With a boy, who had no malice
That is, until Rufus sang songs of a spell
Bringing tornadoes of a boy and his doll
Into the kitchen, where fruit splatted
And juice splashed onto cleanliness,
Into the dining room, where fine dishes
Whistled louder than when they were whole,
Every part of the house was under attack,
But while the boy sat punished
For their dirty deeds,
Rufus smiled wider, thinking
Of more devilish acts they should do,
The wicked mind of Rufus spun,
Feeding ideas to the boy
Who was getting so rebellious
That his parents, fell ill,
But the boy swore that it wasn’t him,
Threw blame upon Rufus,
Who laid there, quietly
Laughing to himself, but showing grin,
The boy was to be sent away
As his parents got weaker,
To a home of lost, far from warmth,
The boy peeked around, scared to find
Rufus, coming to sing more spells.

Stain

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

He slowly presses open the heavy lids
Secreting the early day,
Bringing a stain
Into a hazy focus,
Filtering through the drenching fog,
He reaches out,
Brushes the brittle intruder
And finds it’s sharp stinking image,
The blur of its origin
Slowly pours into his memory
Calling him back,
To the sin of the apple,
The foul crimson grin
Upon his soul
Screams louder than the squawk
Of the perpetual mock,
Coming out from under the floorboards.

To the Dark

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Why are we drawn to darkness,
Hypnotized by the nested eyes
Spinning its desire in the sharp web,
Cold spells upon the dreaming mind,
How do we tear away from the collapse
That chases after the trembling glass,
Crushed, under the heavy foot
Of the gasping giant, born
And living in the wintered night,
Strapped to endless wondering, blind
In the hollow candle, feeling the way
Within fires that hush the light
Charring the skin, avoiding escape,
You can’t see the end while drowning
In the swallows of the inferno,
Dread, is the world we bleed for
Now, and at the hour of our demise.

Eternal Friends

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In the eternal abyss under the Earth
Is a fading man, lonely in the afterlife,
Living in his forgotten tomb
He finds companionship,
One with wings and a certain glow
That illuminates his underworld,
They do not speak, they lie vacant of words,
They do not sing, they lost their melody,
They do not cry, they lie deep in the desert,
All they do, is stare into the space they occupy,
All there is, is the sharing of memories.

We Are

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

We are motives for inspiration
Undiscovered in the looping record,
Milking the pen onto the open field,
We are creators amongst creation
Telling those who’d listen
A piece of truth, in the endless pitch,
Or fantasy, of hope falling to the ocean floor,
We are the minds of Insanity
Keeping watch at the gate,
The record keepers, for our Book
That each one of us contributes to,
Dive into the paper, pushing through words
Deleting the cycled story, keeping the integrity
Of who we are.

Afterburn

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A soldier in the field,
Crunching through the charred greens
Of a world buried beneath the inferno,
The ashes of a home
Swim at the soldiers feet,
He bows down beneath the wind
To pick up a burnt childhood,
As dreams break away in pieces,
He carries what’s left to the burning tree
And just before he tosses it in,
An offspring of nature
Distracts the soldier from falling erosion,
Wings carry hope to the wounded soil.

Nightmare

Posted on by the_dorian_poe

I perch here by the stone
Doing my best to pull the words out,
With all my strength, I cannot,
Tongue lost in the echo of still wings,
Not even the sharp mockery of the black bird
Can be heard tapering down my empty halls,
All that is seen, is the abundance
Of a voided pitch, feeling out for a touch,
Too cold to lay here on my own
As the raft sinks down further along
The engulfing river, spilling into dismay,
When can I awake to find her in my arms again?
Please wake me.