Never stop reading!
Crush, the ignorance inside you
With every brush of the page,
Flipping to the next chapter
Soaking in delirium of the end.
©DorianPoe 2015
Crippling Tree
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
War in Mind
I was entangled in a web, watching
My mind, get torn apart,
Ravaged, by ever famished dwellers
That crawl out from
The stalk of my spine,
Taking advantage, of my weakened state,
All happening, out the cusp of reach, Nothing to do, but succumb to the war
For there is no more retreating,
As my huddled trenches
Are reduced to fire pools that cradles
The slumber of innocence,
My sole whirlpool decline to the gates
As the soldier, in this war against sanity,
But whimpered attempts
Desserts me at the foothill, of rage,
Rage against the entanglement,
Working, to set myself free
In ceaseless battle against
A dooming sentence.
©DorianPoe 2015
Ignorance is Best
She’s crammed, locked and stored
Away from everyone,
Her escape, guarded,
By the roaming watchman
Brewing fire,
All she does, is engulf sight
Through a peephole
Into an endless plain.
Escape? For what?
She’d be lost in the devour
Of cruelty, stormed down
Upon her fragility,
Here, she is protected, untainted
By degradation of a diseased world,
The sun peaks in
When no one’s calling for it,
But the tide of anger
When it ignores, is an avalanche
Upon the weary,
I keep her, cloaked
High above the crushing,
Forever beautiful, in ignorance.
©DorianPoe 2015
Born Again
She has been laid, here,
Under the lonesome perch
Of the lost sun behind sunken ships, Yet, she sprouts out from the dead
Underground of captivity,
Blossoming beyond a splintered world,
She rages within her darting flourish Pushing back an enraged dragon
That no knight can surrender,
She, who has grown from demise
Towers over her mourner,
Shadowing him from torrential downfall.
Garden of Time
I slit the neck of time
As the wolf, prowls the town
Carrying with him, a stench
So fowl, it rots the stone of death,
A scream, far from where I stand
Vibrates the puddle that pools
My sweat, when the wolf
Corrals my sight,
Still, clenching onto the knife
Dripping moments, onto a scorched plank,
I feel a cold tremble, rising up my spine
As the wolf backs me
Into an eclipse, swallowing the sand
Flooding out of the shattered hourglass,
And suddenly that scream, vanishes
Into the gullet of the wolf
Howling, at the echoes of the clock.
Quote -Pablo Neruda
How much he has said
To his love, can’t amount
To what has betrayed his heart,
Those words, never able to
Capture, what stirs in the fire,
Daunting, are those beautiful
Silent moments when nothing is said
When in fact, everything
Is gushing out from all edges
Of emotion, when they drift in each other.
Shut In
Fear, stretches out it’s hand
For me, to take,
As I browse my surroundings
Finding myself in my home,
That has blended, into the forgotten,
My still window shudders
In the loneliness chill
That slithers, through the anchors,
Which have latched on to me
As I’m held in this ever lasting perch
Upon sanity’s conditioning,
I revert back into my webbed nest
Away from the long spinney reach,
As the cage echoes, in the rattle
Of being shut in.
Nightmare III
Three loud distinct knocks
Upon my door,
Muffled steps, as I approach
Walking, a skewed mile,
One step, too close, as the knocks
Start deafening the silence,
Surrounding me in it’s panic
Along with my own
As the door, starts to crack
Bowing to the beast, beyond the portal,
Open wide now, as it enters
Striding, tapping it’s dirty claws
Towards me, backing me
Into a dungeoned corner
Searching for a door, to keep
The beast at bay, from consumption
Of my heart, which belongs to her.
The Waiting One
He softly speaks, “Let me go.”
Quiet moment, except for the
Crinkle of bones, loosening grasp
As he jumps in the murky swallow,
Never to be in sight of collapsed moon,
She keeps her watch on the abyss
Hoping to shine light
From her housed place, on the sand,
She pleads with the inimical storm
That clouds her sight
With rising terror, consuming
All the wreckage it caused,
A night darkened, by the shadow
Cast over her island,
While she perches, atop her peak
Waiting, refusing to swallow hope
For his humble return,
Finding a never ending horizon
Consuming her desperation,
She waits, till the end of all existence
To avail to herself, her house in ruin
Spread by the decay, of tarnished years
Waiting for the return of a sail,
Lost.
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