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.

Advertisements

Too Many Open Tabs

image

Late at night, as I peruse my thoughts
And jump, from idea to Wonderland
Escaping narrowly into another tab,
Finding myself in a distant picture,
Foreign steps, into a calm river
And out into the cold, with no blanket
Except for the falling sky, as I dart
To an already traveled road, reviewing
What I have learned, it is what I have forgotten,
Too many open sources, without any retention,
As I continue to sift my way out of swallow
And into another trap, flying to the bottom,
What was I thinking about?
Where has my mind drifted to?
A year in the sun, lost on an island
With the company of my own insomnia.

©DorianPoe2016

Vanished Into the Fog

The heavy shade suffocates the morning
As I wonder out, from my lavish cradle,
Having only the finest cloth, grace
My pampered skin,
Consumed, in my possessions,
As I blur out the rest of the world,
From my glass house,
Original paintings kept in a closed room
Just to brag, of my ownership,
I surround myself with these marvels
And made famous by them,
I have it all, yet nothing still,
Only I sat unaware, until a crash
Upon the vacant canvas perched above, Sending down a reckoning in it’s storm,
And when all had cleared, my glass house
Stood high, and intact of my possessions,
Then came a slight tapping
Of tiny stones, scratching my home,
A lost boy, amongst the wreckage,
I come out in a stampeding rage
As another stone, leaves his hand
Shattering a pane of my possession,
When I turn back, to release my fury,
There’s no boy, vanished into the fog,
Sweeping, echoes the destruction
Laid upon by a nuisance,
Until he reappears, lightly tapping
On my fragile door,
I slowly march over, with red burning
In my eyes, yet the boy waits,
He doesn’t speak, no apology for chaos
But a piece of parchment, handed to me,

“No stone has less value than the idols
You carry in your heart, weighing you down. ”

When I finish reading, the boy is gone,
Vanished into the nothingness
From which, he came,
Later that night, another storm
Beckons beyond the range,
Flashing, lighting up the entire canvas,
This storm, brews more fierce than any
My possessions can withstand,
I begin to pack, wrap and move my gems
To a safer hold, but it’s too much,
The bellowing wind brings warning
With the storm, right behind it,
Smashing against my home,
Shattering more than what the stone did,
Waves of monumental hight, pounds
Against the inside walls, tearing apart
My woven cloths and sheets,
Lighting from Olympus blasts through
The shields of the dark closest,
Burning the scenes, I forgot about,
All the while, I’m here
Watching from striking distance, 
Who was that snotty little boy
That stole my life away,
It was him, that brought forth Poseidon’s
Cruel and unusual punishment,
For all I did was live within a museum
Of fortune, inside a glass house
For all to see,
Until all, is but a common phrase
Shouted out,
But I threw no stone, rock or boulder,
I kept sacred, all that made me
An island of buried treasure,
Only to have it lost to the sea,
Now, there is only me,
I once had a life, blink,
And you would have missed it,
It was filled with outrageous fortune
But, that all vanishes, I squandered
Away my years, idolizing materials,
Things that would not hold me,
Things that would not make me feel,
Things that would never stop me
From vanishing, long before I realized.

©DorianPoe 2016

Peace at Last

Silence screaming out, piercing the veil
Draped over stone eyes, gazing
Through a set of trembling ones,
Steel slowly slithering out, stained
Dripping crimson petals onto white tile,
The deed is done, the curse lifted,
Crashing noises of the blade shattering
Against the puddled floor,
He perches over the frozen stare,
Places his now empty, but always warm
Hand, over that distant look,
“No more will you suffer in loneliness.”
Shuts the glaze,
Hoods his identity,
And vanishes into the depths.

©DorianPoe 2015

In the Distance of Time

A constant chill, rushes through
These bodies, deserted channels
Haunted, by a love, buried from sight,
Their whispers are forgotten pieces
Of a rich history, bled out,
Dried up, in the destruction of the wasteland,
No sun to warm the two, wrapped
In each other, their blanket arms
Lost in the bitter bite,
Still, a smile under dust
Outlines the fading ledge of the earth,
Distant from life, but firm grasp
Kept, throughout the decay around them,
Even when blown away, they grow back
For they are rooted, in love.

image

©DorianPoe 2015

Mirror, Mirror

I’m consumed by the wreckage
In it’s reflection, tarnished,
From my rooted hold, over many laps
Of lives around me, I live with
Knowledge, to which I stare far into,
Dried on years and cracks, overrun
As I glaze back into the handheld void,
Imprisoned in my own grasp, holding on
To what looks back, showing the disgust
Of what I am now, from what I’ve done,
Cursed in the nightmare that stalls
My death, my escape from this skin,
I’ve corrupted the dirty,
Spun the weak webbed bridge
For it only to collapse, in the sway
From my sigh, repeating in vivid picture
Where I sit, holding my damnation,
Dry desert plains blanket my face,
Cracks, swallowing the men, who’s
Legs, I’ve broken into staying,
Now dread my sweet siren song,
For my past is projected
By the mirror, clasped firmly by me,
It has become my enemy, Demon
Crested, and worn
In my tormented hypnosis.

image

©DorianPoe 2015

Taken Down by the Sea

I’m drowning, in a sea of emptiness
After falling off a thin plank,
While reaching out for the anchor
Wondering out, further away from shore,
Deserted inside, where icebergs
Collide against the stinging reef,
Jump out, onto the ripped sail
Only to suffocate, on the absence
Of the benevolent tow, to safety,
Where warmth kisses in the embrace,
Of passion
Died on a rock, poking out from my chest,
This sea, I’m daunted by,
Crushes my muscle and leaves me hollow
Howling, at the curse, reflected in her eyes.

©DorianPoe 2015

No Escape for the Weary

image

He softly whispers out to her
Hearing himself crack the fragile silence,
Built upon fear, of the ever lurking shadow,
Again, he speaks in shade, begging her
To awake, from a tall crippling clutch
Around her frail and aching heart,
While deep into her succumb of derangement,
She is carried further on still
Black wings that holds her over chaos,
At the same time, his whimpers
Wrestle, with the affliction in the river
Of a distanced soul, once there and felt,
Now cold in the memory of her touch,
His hushed murmur, awakens dread
Bursting out from the darkened abyss
To keep her caged, ripping song from flesh
Feeding it to the mute devours, flocked
Above the decent into the vacuum of life,
Watching striking sorrow, eager to taste it,
Stunning my stance, in the faint glimmer,
I’ve crashed, broken my desire
And have been force fed, to the shadow
Then smiles grimly at the cloud in my heart.

©DorianPoe 2015

Crippling Tree

image

Silence, is awakened by her gusting approach,
Towing with her, another key
From a cold bearing decline,
Temperately landing, amongst the baron branches
That struggles to keep the dangling tales,
When she shrills, a story floods the roots
Unlocked, by the tightly fastened noose
In the shadow of a key,
Weighing down a stunted climb
By hollow horrors in a fabled squawk,
Each bellow of a splattered sentence
Further opens the gaping sinkhole,
She finds distance, to only bestow
An overshadowed key, etched into it
Lies doom, a haunting cloud that rumbles
In the throat of the high winged soar,
A storm that drums the sapless
Held on tightly in constraints
Of the weaved bubble from dirty talons
Fabricating life, and glorifying darkness, Now the tree resides as a sumo
With dear in it’s roots,
Being hugged, by consumption,
Dressed, in an overcrowding, blind deceit,
A warning, never to cross the Rubicon.

©DorianPoe 2015

Lost

image

I’ve gone too deep,
Into the crushing blind,
Lost, myself along a forgetful trail
Leaving nothing behind, no crumbs
To follow back, no desire
Pleading with me to stay,
The ashes cover what I long to forget,
I drown further into the crowded canopy
That filters out the sun,
A sight recluse as I look up
Back at where I fell from,
But I’ve perched within this forest
Too long, decomposing,
Shedding it all,
New feathers grow in
Not to fly with, but to hide under,
Submerging, with the darkness
Becoming a demon, in it’s hold.,