Rising

Art by Joshua Hoffine

Simple pleasures, so often, get overlooked by the diamond glare,

But she continues her stroll, through her lavish halls

Of pricelessness, crowding the walls casting long shadows,

As a solemn hush, occupies the burgundy canvas, of this mausoleum

Articulately crafted and engineered, to show off her devine prosperity,

Yet, she wonders alone, barely gazing, at any of her collectables,

Strolling by, her worldly posessions of statues and paintings

Frivolously acquired, filling blank spaces in her oversized mansion,

Standing separately, removed, from oppressive dwellings

To flourish, in a hollow plot, so she can be the polished,

Marinating in grand halls, surrounded by the squander

Thickly dressing, the outstretched corridors, of her maze,

Silence creaks, then echoes down, throughout lifelessness

As she fans herself, perched atop her swanky peak,

Untouched by the erosion, flooding lives, beyond her gates,

Cries, barely reaches the lock, snug and tightly clamped

So that she can revel, in the abounding untouchables,

But there, in the still, erie absence of sound, the softest whisper

Huddled up next to her, and gave a deep fright

That resonated through her entire being, and caused her, to collapse,

She immediately sprang up, hysterically searched

For the voice, that put her wellness into paralysis

As she tried to shake away, the voice’s prolonged echo,

Waiting, for it to settle, along with her rapid thumping,

And just as some alleviation dawned, a furious clanking

At her gates, had once again, awoken her paranoia,

Running to the window, another quiver down her spine

As the voice, grabs, her attention from her hall of valuables,

Following the reverberating taunt, that led her to an unknown room,

One she never stepped in, yet tucked into the far corner,

Cautiously walked, into an orange haze and simple gallery,

Nothing but walls and two pieces of modest furniture,

So uninviting, she thought as she sat, almost instinctively,

The clanking and rattling at her weakening gates, intensified,

Startling her, sinking further into the chair, finding it difficult to breathe,

The voice, again spoke, shattering her sacred hush,

“We rise, as you fall” continued to be the repeating provocation,

And the voice, as abruptly as it appeared, it vanished,

To the sudden thud, coming from beneath, the surface,

Her gaze froze, upon that very thudding spot

And slowly getting to her feet, moving closer to the knock,

Growing louder, stronger, cracking the stone tile

With pieces chipping away, almost as if, it was pulsating,

And finally breaking open, with a stampede of filthy, grubby hands

Reaching for her, grasping, and pulling her into the void,

She was gone, letting the entire mansion, rapidly tarnish,

All that’s left, is the wind, wrestling within the cold, of this dwelling.

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.

From the Mountain into a New World

Captivated, by a neverending sprawl
Upon a thick blanket over our eyes,
Not able to see what blooms beyond
Seclusion, of an uneducated heart
As he climbs, were no ray of day
Kisses the mundane,
Just, an everlasting disguise
To cattle sanity within the outer limits,
Yet he pulls forward to the high peak
And looks down upon his prison,
No remorse for abandonment of his box
That kept him cold and prosaic,
Enveloped in strict quarters, he escaped
To find himself on the brink of freedom,
All he has to do, is cross over
Beyond the mountain’s brow,
Into an unknown,
Into the theory, of latitude,
For the gates out of sanity can be found
Where no one dares to climb.

©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

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

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.