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Narrative Dark Poems | Narrative Poems About Dark

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Details | Narrative | |

Your Undying Legacy

My heart is so keen on you,
It leaves me cold, relentless, impossible
He fell into the love pools in my eyes,
The light you demand me to hide
He fell so lightly into my waters of secret
Only to see I am so far away

I do not blame you Precious Curse,
Though I cannot bring myself to touch upon his life
If I am to give him something, I will give my all
And with you, ever here, ever taciturn, I can give nothing...

Yearning for anything but the pain,
I fall victim to your bloody embrace
I kiss your battered lips,
Sucking the juices, absorbing your settled tears
They are drying upon your cheek now...
I see the ache of love caught in your eyes,
Your fierce, angry brow,
Head lowered, I sigh

Yes, I do blame you... 
I have blamed you for so long...
You kill me slowly, you consume me
Leaving me in bits for your next meal
You leave me to bleed...
And for you, feel...

The longer you stay into my cove of loneliness
The shorter I shall truly live
He has many times promised me happiness,
Taking my quivering hands, he had whispered, "I care for you..."
And in your lungs at last you heave,
In some eruption of sudden passion-
SHE IS MINE.... now LEAVE.... 
Pathetic, I know, my eyes lit up
At last you have shown me your emotion I so crave...

He sees in me, life... Precious Curse,
He is full of life...full of pain
Whenever I must return to you
He knows your destructive ways
He pities me, he grieves you
If only he had known you when alive...

Your smithered claws run through my hair
Feeding on my kindling despair
You breathe in my sorrowful scent
My life, my body, you resent

Though you cannot do away with me, Precious Curse
Just as I cannot let you go...
Your anger rises as my eyes drift,
To the one waiting at the door

He is insistent, brazen, brilliant,
His eyes never blinking, never deterred 
I beg him to go, though inside I plea he never depart
And your hoarse voice warns him to make his leave
I love it when you fight for me
That is the only life in you I ever see

When you realise I am no longer cold in your embrace
When you see love has strung its light upon my face
When you taste the iron on my lips,
You will know, I no longer love you for love's sake
I love you because I must,
And no one else will see us
As I take the dagger that you have many times punished me with
As I promise you, I will always bleed
You will feel...you will feel me tear you to shreds
For your destructive love is not strong enough to grant me death

Choking in my bleeding pools,
I give and I give and I give
As close as can be
The last thing you will see is him and I
Free
Your face no longer capable of crying
Or speaking, or lying... 

Yes, I do blame you... 
I have blamed you for so long...
Now you are gone...truly gone

Sometimes, when my love is fast asleep,
I crave your distant charm
The curve of your assuming lips
Yet well I know I hide all these desires
Deep down in my cove I secretly visit
Knowing your seed grows inside me now
Wallowing in the remnants of our struggle


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New Road

In a new road,
Rain will fall,
Wind may blow,
Swifting our woe.

The road forever on and on,
Many paths to choose,
Many paths to take,
Home behind,
World ahead...

Through the shadows,
Through the night,
Clouds going by,
There we will lie,
Very deep,
Seeing shivered land,
Seeing the dead seas...

Through the edge,
Miles to go,
Singing by,
Darkness rising,
Vanishing light,
Hollow flourishing,
Going by,
World ahead,
Home behind...

Rain may fall,
Through the nightfall,
Through the twilight,
Through the dusk,
Through the dawn,
Beyond mountains,
Beyond stones,
Standing strong,
Wandering lost,
World ahead,
Home behind,
Paths on and on,
'Till the road comes along...


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Halloween Eve Black Mass Incantation

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 
	
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 5, 2014) (Narrative Incantation poetic format)


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The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


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THE OPAQUEST NARRATIVE

In Michigan, the weather can change for the worst in October.
This particular Halloween came a blizzaring.
The lights went out and in a dark, dark room, candles were lit; therein, the opaquest 
narrative was captured.
* With the shape of With figment With look I will invent the human. Through the mind Via light With aspect The being I will project. I saw sadness. It stared directly at me. I gazed back. It begins to glare. I looked away. Why am I afraid? It is an ape, a primate. With child fists, I walked toward this apelike creature and strike out. Finally, I saw more than eyes and it pounces. It is a little child as a man. My hands represented some insight. Would we fight? ** The universe stood as earth. Solar we are to the sky above. Humanity shouts with a hoarse voice. Man, woman, and child stands as an echo. God sent the demons. The sinners are all of us. Through commandment of what Hell is Heaven is not. Demons are with God. The Pacific Ocean is the end of the world. It runs east and west. Why do we not investigate this? [Because our capabilities are limited!] Are we afraid of what we will find? We discovered each other and now we hesitate. Procrastination is a thing that delays knowledge. Are we wise to seek? Demons are with God. Are we? *** Body [body] {Body}! Gut (gut)! Skin and bones wake up! I am a reincarnation of that that is not known. Many have come before me but none was as I am. I am the body for the human to gut a man. However, women are now involved and they want to be in the belly. Instinctive they are but this was only for man to do. Why do they want to be that damned fool? Unconscious to the world that they are within, one would ask self why they want to be like men. The answer becomes to fit in. What if there is one left out? The answer becomes their bodies have been gutted and they are only GI. **** The Moon has no Gods. The Sun is what speaks to us. It tells us prophesy and what the world shall become. We are mongoloid, brown and bronzed spiritual to our existence. Our tribes are of North America. A hundred plus [we] stand[s]. Our land is our strength. We fought. We won. We lost. Died from disease but gave birth once again. Our population stands now and we are healthy. The European man has given our wisdom and knowledge. Our minds are set on our economic growth. We will become political minded. Five hundred nations are we those lost tribes of our history. ***** The mockery of man is a stance of incorrectness. It transforms through government and states that your freedoms are not anything to believe in. You, as people, are nothing but possessions and no one knows who is blessed. You are lucky to be here. Your way of life is given by our nation’s wealth. We are brought together as immigrants and the natives of this country are indigenous. We cannot pretend that we are more than that. We must pedestal ourselves to unity and know that people are only structure to adhere. One came for liberation. Others came via slavery. Nomads were unbound. They let them in yet they were said to be uncivilized. Today we are unified. We are the United States of America bound, bonded, and realized. {We are gratis; free to form our own lives.} ______________________________________________| PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 13, 2014!


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Ghost photographer

Trigger finger on the button as he shoots his victims photograph with cold bullets. He's already gone before the bullet shells hit the ground.
blood runs through there emotionless eyes. it leaks desecrating and tainting the floor with innocent murder written all over it. The bodies twitch on the floor in a horrifying manner to those who witness it. The people called him the ghost photographer because they've never gotten the chance to identify him. Like a shadow, there but not there. real but not existing.
The ghost photographer appears in another location at a wedding, heading there as the evening photographer nobody suspects a thing. Shooting people with the fake camera, clever man plotting to take the bride and grooms life. Engaging conversation with them. They trust him as a nice man however the two later enter a room and he enters as well convincing them to have a couple more pictures taken of them. They agree willingly because they are so happy and unaware of how there night is yet to sink into the pit of blackness. The doors quietly lock shut in the chapel room. He says "Don't even think about saying cheese cause you won't be fucking smiling". Before they get the chance to look confused as to what he just said he hits the button taking silenced "shots" of them piercing there skin and tearing there big day apart as easy as paper. The splatter and drip of blood leaves there deceased bodies as they hit the ground. Suddenly lifeless and unable to begin a life with each other. Everyone's faces drop when they witness the two victims corpses and happiness built up in the day has turned to sadness and horror.

The ghost photographer disappeared into the dark night.
Nobody knows why. But in his mind he is living yet dead, ending others lives and happiness for his own sadistic satisfaction.

Most photographers are happy to capture people's joy. But not this one, he ends it.

He went back to his darkroom illuminated by red lights to take real photographs of all the ghosts of the people he murdered.


Details | Narrative | |

I'll cry tomorrow

Sitting dying alone,
In this dark and dingy place 
It has now become my home..
The only open bar 
In town, I needed something to heal my broken heart
I'm on my 8th round, Going on Nine now!

Swaying on this broken bar stool
As the bartender shouts 
his “last call”, As I'm looking down
and this shuffled ground
As I try a re step my footsteps home
Walking them back In my head
But I'm a stumbling mess

My heart feels like shattering glass
I'm slowly breaking,
Sink-in, Drown-in in the dark-nest
I'm Gasp-in, For breath, Each one Hard-er
than the next!
While the whole world around me are breathing
Fine, I'm falling back into the abyss, 
Broken heart-ed 
This vodka has cut my skin so deep
This broken glass with it's hard edges
Digging, Silting into me
Tho some of my pain was self inflicting 
My heart's beat, is barely beating
That's why I'm drinking
This gin 
Now swallowed, why cant I
swallow my pride With
Dignity, I'm openly seeking darkness 
I'm sorry farther “For I have sinned”
Those sin's I've harbored
Now my hollowed soul's giving In
To that darkness....

My body trembling ,The outcome's looking bleak
I've become so weak
Shaking knees, I can barely stand up
My eye's become teary 
They say its this alcohol that's depressing me
But it's soon becoming my dependency
I'm finding hard to leave it be, I'm hooked....
...To a drip, Anything so I can get my fix
It’s another chapter I've my book
That''s needs to be ripped, Apart
Because I'm hiding be-hide a mask
My face is smiling but inside my heart is scared..

I'm writing this at night 
I'm tired... but my mind's racing fast
while my eyes are wide shut
I'm Trying to sleep..but my mind's
Not giving up..whilst
I'm lying on my friends sofa
I'm unable to get up
Morning rises but I'm slowly dying..

I'm hung over
Pondering on my life and wondering
what it would be like being sober
How can I achieve anything in life
When my only motivation is getting high
And the other half of the time
I'm crying inside 
Too depressed to write
But I wipe my tears 
But I'm still here, On my bar stool from 9 to 5!

The same broken record playing
Saying “I'm going to quit” But I'm not facing
My problems to begin with, I need a Fixative
I'm not telling myself I got a problem to be able to fix it!
Sitting here, Ripping the label off this toxic beer, bottle
I can't look at look at this mirror and face him!
Face it you hit rock bottom...
I cant believe what I have become
I wake up drunk
Where will I end up?
As I look along, A sedimentary I come a pone, A grave with my name above...

As the bar door's are now closing
My heart's ripped open Soaking
In pure emotion
Bartender “Give me two more shots”
And ill mend my way's
Not before a quick pit stop 
To get more drink from this shop
Because I'm getting sick of these sad song's that play
From the broken jukebox!
Or this it me?
And my pain that's eternal bleeding
Thinking that every sad song is talking to me?
I'm leaving.. 

Because I'm lonely
I wonder if anyone get's me?
The feeling of looking back hopelessly
At the bottom of the vodka bottle
Describing my feelings of feeling empty!
I've been here before so it can't be rock bottom

The only thing I adore 
Is my trusty red Pen that's my Savior 
It's a metaphor...it's my blood, That's in its ink
When it hit's the paper
It's that pain, I'm writing with!
Because that inspiration's bleeds through my veins
Just for me to scribble to words on this page
Just so I can throw them away!
Because I think anything I ever do 
Is not good enough for you..
Maybe I should do, More before I get taken away
Maybe if that ambulance had been late
I wouldn't been standing here today
But I still cant make that change

Because My vision, Impaired by the flashing lights 
Of that ambulance
So If I die, today 
At least they couldn't say 
He was just an addict
Who abused his talent...

But I'm still here I tried To drown My 
Sorrow
But I'm Drowning In tear's That I'll cry 
tomorrow!


Details | Narrative | |

Shaken to the Core

Her sad eyes and tear stained face evoked such ambivalent feelings;
I could barely stand to look upon the half-naked child in front of me. 
She turned her face toward me with a pained look begging for help.
Maternal feelings welled up within for this pitiful tangled haired waif. 

Gaping in abject horror, I observed the orphan's frail arms wrapped 
tenaciously around a dead rat and held close to her dirt smeared body. 
I sensed this sewer 'pet rat' had been her only source of comfort in life. 
The one thing she turned to, when sad or hungry, would never again be.
 
While resisting the urge to gather her up in my arms and dry her tears, 
still I desired to sympathize... whispering, "Don't cry honey, it'll be OK". 
I lied, knowing it wouldn't.  Besides what could I do with so little to give. 
I turned and walked away not wanting to face my growing sense of lack.

I awoke with a start, shuddering, deeply disturbed and troubled to tears.
Sometimes the vivid images, like a horror movie returning to haunt me,
make me question, "Who is that wretched child so forlorn and dejected?
The memories shake my very soul, the hidden message still eluding me. 


Details | Narrative | |

regret

I was talking to my
therapist about things I can't seem
to understand
and I realized
I was always talking about you-

those calm words you told me
that 2 am I cannot seem to forget
'kiss me hard before you go'
I selfishly agreed
when those rough lips touched my soft ones
I know I am deeply in love

does it bother you?

but I still chose to go
call me a coward, dear
you deserve so much happiness
than to be with a mess like me
but as I slowly walk away
I can feel the lump on my throat

I don't want to leave--

but as I turned around, it was too late
you have already forsaken me.


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Feeding the Parasites

I wept, my insides swelling
Despising every fiber of my body…
I focused on the glassed scenery before me
Longing to be a bird…so I might fly so far away….
From the searing pains of my present
The end to all of my hopeful dreams and fantasies

I knew in my heart…I must return
Back into the presence where these tears began
I recalled many lonely nights without that presence
I remember how empty I felt, how moist the pillow was
As I rested my burning head through the misery of ‘what-if’
My body feeding the infestation on my bed…
I let the critters bite me for so long….
Wishing they would eat me all away…

And I wished, my hands pressed against the hot glass…
That I had that bed again…
Staring out that window, wishing…writhing 
Longing for a downpour as the sun beat mercilessly
Fighting to hold the excreting despair

A lonely hall I stood in…once so full of life…
I now stood alone there….
Shaking in the buzz beyond me

How long must I stand here?
After all these years….that’s all he had to say?
I didn’t care….today was the end….today was the very end….
My strength was gone…sucked dry….
Just as I allowed my tears to disappear…..

I refused to cry no longer…
Dry….dry faster….you mean nothing!!!!
For the presence has made himself very clear
In cold existence… though at distance…
Warm…beautiful…true…
It was his way….and I couldn’t change that 

Like so many others around, the one I loved….
Couldn’t even spare a fleeting look
I had no one to blame but myself…
Though a part of me begged me to believe he was different

And no one questioned my solemn walk to the lone window
So I cursed my body, my soul, and heart
I cursed what I had trusted to make my mark
I wanted to just…fade away…
And though granted existence to this presence,
Acknowledgement remained a strained formality 
A distant dream of something more…
Walking briskly through that double door…..

“I was impressed…” He had added, with no emotion.
No conviction. And no love.

Why do your eyes wander as you speak?
Is this broken heart even worthy of your gaze?

…..trust me…..
I no longer live for your acceptance, you fleeting presence
I no longer write to you…though often about you…
No longer speak of the beauty I have once seen
But there are still times when my eyes moisten,
As I imagine where you once stood
Imagining those sickening ‘what ifs’….feeding the parasites….
Imagining what could have been…
What will never be again….


Details | Narrative | |

Night Angel

They needed help
Walking alone in the dark.
The man.
The child.
A broken down car.
The child frightened,
But not understanding
The terror
That would soon
Come her way.
Her parents petrified
That their baby was gone,
Agonizing
Over forbidden images
That crowded their way
Past ice cream sundays
And birthday parties
And wedding days.
A passer-by.
A doer of good deeds.
He stops.
He sees.
He looks into
the little girl's eyes.
Bravely
The girl speaks,
"This is not my dad"
And the coward
who took her,
He runs.
He hides.
The passer-by,
Believing he saved
A child
From a long, cold walk,
In reality
Saved a child
From a long, cold death.


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The Empty Tissue Box

My heart was in such pain
I felt like I was going to go insane
I just don't know what to do 
And my eyes full of tears that distort my view

I fell to my knees and felt the urge
My muscle tighten and pin needles struck me like a surge
My body was warm and with feelings so confused
My mind felt sadness had fused

I could not conquer my fears
I just sat down and fell into tears
When some close to you passes on
It felt like a warmth has gone

So I raised my hand towards a box that was empty with no tissue
I first was embarrass and had a little bit of issue
All my friends hugged me and said sorry for your loss
So now I cry in my bed and toss


April 14, 2013


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I'M A SOMEBODY

They listened to your clever lines,
Felt guilty when you gave them blame
Bought in to your stick man stories
The anecdotal evidence you proclaimed

So now adoption is the enemy
Christian families are a villain 
Gotcha day is doom's day
A horror story of joy killing

They believed you, "He was trafficked!"
But if that was true then what went wrong
The dollars would have moved me out of there
If these books were credible I'd have been gone

Of course you knew the true reality
Your agenda was so thinly veiled 
There isn't this army of rescuers
For years adoption numbers have fell

I'm not copy for your editors
Don't care about best selling lists
I wasn't a child for any Catcher's
Those kinds of children rarely exist

You'd think there was an evil industry
By the awful things you wrote
You created your desired fiction
The fact is agencies are going broke

So don't imprison me with narrow labels
I'm just a hurting human being
I'm not a product or a talking point
I'm a somebody, not a something!

No one shopped for me like it was Walmart
I'm a fatherless child, now an aged out orphan
I have a name, hopes, and fears
You sold me out and made a fortune! 

3-10-14

Sponsor: Chris D. Aechtner
Contest Name: Anything Goes


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Portrait Of Red

Pain is just another form of medication, feeding the demons that nest inside.
A temporary fix, a band aid per say, covering the secrets I am trying to hide.

I am like the right hand to the devil, with the ability to manipulate others thoughts and emotions.  Exploiting there fears, insecurities and dreams, I can flip in a split second, merely to show my complete and utter devotion.

My eyes and ears are magnified by ten, a gift to some but a burden to me.  I close my eyes to try and escape for a brief moment just to feel free.

Intrigued by the sharp edges of a blade, and the power that it contains.  Just a simple brush across my skin, paints a beautiful portrait of red, dripping like falling drops of rain.

I hurt myself on the outside to kill the evil that lives within.  I'ts relief flowing through my veins, with a rush of instant gratification to make me grin.

The truth to any story always has an open window, it will sneak it's way through.  The eyes can be read like a paper back novel, every word, every image, a tragedy but true.

I'm always aware of my situation and my surroundings, even though it appears I am not paying attention.  I see all, I hear all, studying anyone and everyone requires my full concentration.

Fantasying about death and the peace it brings, oddly is what makes me smile.  To finally put an end to my journey in hell, only keeps me in denial.

Overwhelmed with exhaustion at the end of everyday, I lay my head to rest.  I think to myself that maybe someday, I will finally pass life's test.


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Sleepless Nights

Insomnia, familiar friend,
crawled into bed this summer night
so once again, inflamed with dread
I wander now in pitch of dark 
and touch the places, now by heart, that sprawl unstirred by weary minds

This lonely place, where I used to come
where armless grief, and headless doubt
and worry filled the rooms
I know you cold, my land of oz
So ruthless do you change your face
into a place I once refrained

But,  don't pretend to make me fear, toxic robber of my sleep
I've known you much too long
You masquerade in shades of gray
And now I know that dark of night, is not the blackest thing
And room by room, I'll play the game
until the light of day

The shadows magnify your art
and though they magnify my loss of sleep
and while I've tossed and turned in vain
I've lost the lonely albatross
that pulled against the grain

From hooded thresholds I embark
to find a language of the dark
A liquid language of a mystic night, 
that switches on the light

I've walked the halls of ghosts I knew, and those I hope to meet
I've felt the stares, and shared myself, no secrets left to keep
But not tonight, familiar friend
you bask in myth I understand
I'll fill the tasks that need my hands, until the light of day...
---------------


For Leonora Galinta's Contest


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DEMONS ALSO CRY

DEMONS ALSO CRY

Beyond the crave for death
All I sought was first,
Weep-not my newborn soul
Where fireflies shine lighter than the lamps
And fishes swam faster than their homes
Like  trampled troubled tramps,
Then, demons also cry.

Groans and moans of pain,
Down they roam like rain
Memories sparked with flashes of feisty flare
For all that is left is nothing but darkness
Piercing the thread of our bond
That even angels dare not dare
Then, demons also cry

Here, days brimmed with sadness
To miscarriage of nights darkness
That even birds glide backward
And when asked why, we say, its nature to nurture
Conscience lye frozen in muss, has God punished us?
Que sera, sera and all go wayward,
Then, demons are also crying
						By Tutuola michael


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A Dark Man

         This piece is dedicated with love to J.E. Gauthier, Jr. Active addict and father. 
Only by the grace of God may he be saved from the error of his ways.

 For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin
 
 Back then life on the road meant drugs money and women far as the eye could see
 He said he'd never look back 'cuz he was born free
 
 Life grew emptier as he grew older
 The drugs grew heavier as his heart grew colder
 His four children left behind with no place to call home
 From day one they made it in this world alone
 
  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin

 Every few years he'd arrive unannounced offering money and a hug
 All while using the garage to hide his drug
 His spitting image could smell his guilt a mile away
 She rolled her gloomy blue eyes in unison with every false word he had to say

 Today his girls are grown raising girls of thier own
 December came and went
 February turned to Lent
 On a stormy midnight he still turns to his blue eyed spitting image
 As the clouds clear she is again lost in the scrimmage

 She lies awake with a bottle of wine in hand
 On her mind weighs a dark man
 His ways make him lonely and lost
 Yet to her death she will fight for him at all costs

  For years a dark man walked through a seemingly revolving door
 Steadily leaving his wife and kids as he searched for something more
 Occasionally calling home every now and again
 In his voice they could hear the taint of black sin


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Sins and Virtues Chapter Two

Turning her back to the wedding guests Lust throws a bouquet of Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps 
over 
her head.  Stepping in front of Sloth, Envy snatches the the bouquet out of the air.  "Nice catch Envy" 
said Sloth with slow slurred speech.  "Thank you Sloth and I do believe green is more my color".  
Turning around to see who caught the bouquet Lust wasn't a bit surprise to see Envy holding the 
Poison Ivy and Venus Flytraps.  "Well Envy I guess you're next to be wedded off" stated Lust.  Pride 
motions for Hatred to release the owls.  Unlocking the huge cage Hatred releases the owls.  Slow to 
take flight the great owls flap their wings and ascends into the darkness.  "Let's get this party 
started.  Turn on the music" yelled Greed.  As the sins partied the night away the sun came rising in 
the country Tranquility.  "Are you ready to spend all eternity together?"  Loyalty asked Love as they 
stood on their balcony.  "My dear, dear, husband soon to be you already know the answer to the 
question you ask".  As Loyalty and Love stand locked in a warming embrace being kissed by the 
rays of the sun the two share a kiss of their own.  Beep, beep, beep "Well this is a perfect time for my 
communicator to beep" breaking her embrace with Loyalty, Love answers her communicator.  
"Hello Faith how are you?"  "I'm fine Love and how are you?"  "I'm ready to start this new era in my 
life".  "I'm looking over your wedding file.  Are there any last minute changes you want to make?"  
"No Faith everything's perfect".  "I'm outside of your house waiting on you Love.  Let's get going".  
"I'll be right down.  I have to go Loyalty".  Grabbing Love by the waist and pulling her close Loyalty 
whispers in her ear "Are you sure this is what you want?"  "I've wanted you when I first saw you.  
Now if you'll excuse me Faith is waiting for me". 
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red Seven aka The Green Poet aka The Brown Philosopher


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Just for Me

In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away


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Vile Human Scum

Michael Moore and Seth Rogen.


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Thug City USA

Ferguson, Missouri
aka Thug City USA. 


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New Paths

A new path is what we seek.
The surroundings are taking a peek,
Going through, very meek,
Seeing no bleaks,
Getting piqued,
While hearing creaks,
In the new paths that we seek...

The new path is what is found,
Going through forests bound,
Going through the path inbound,
With soothing and raging water sounds.
Walking confound,
Silence profounded,
Sight astounded,
Passed through burial grounds...

Seeking for another way around,
Noises resound,
Spirits surround,
The paths newfounded,
Our instincts compounded,
Followed by the hounds,
Echoes in ultrasounds,
Passed through mysterious breeding grounds...

Going to stamping grounds,
Trying to get off this ground,
With those burial mounds,
Death moving the wheels around,
Silhouettes running aground,
Trying to leave safe and sound,
Passing through some hunting grounds...

Seeking for common grounds,
The mistaken path redounded,
Regretful screams abound.
Plans propounded,
Though some are fouled,
Throughout the paths that were found...

However, most are lost and wounded,
Most tended to walk out,
Some minds and hearts full of doubts.
Hearing salvation shouts,
From all these new paths walked and found...


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In The Dark

Walking alone in the dark
All is silent
Until theres a snap of a twig
Hands come from behind
Holding my neck
I try to scream
Noone Hears
The hands grow tighter
I give up fighting
I take a final breath
He lays me in the bushes
My body cold and still
Noone knows who did it
They probly never will


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Face Of Modern Slavery

A shameful act in this world we live today
surely an educated mind can clearly see the truth behind a mask
Ignorance is the hardness of heart manifests in such violence 
The horrors and inhumanity of it heartbreaking reality reeks
A mortal sin attacking the vital principle within us all
slavery is very much alive and growing each dawning new day

New bigger than ever in the 21st century, returning evil dawns
Turn a blind eye poor unfortunate girls without a voice cry for love
India has the largest number of slaves in world we live in
The dark side of such a beautiful country an evil vice grips hold

Taking a new form, bride trafficking exploiting the poor
those unfortunate falling prey to traditional arranged marriages
some are sold off like objects for as little as 160 euro's, up to 225 euro's 5000 rupees 
Vulnerable young women exploited forced into hard labor some injected with drugs e.t.c they say their life is Hell not worth living

Working morning and night beaten in extreme heat raped by family members
Their is a social status manufactured from all this a stigmata deceit and trickery
they are then disgraced known as purchased women

Men and women so called mercenaries in a perverse vice 
looking at ill got wages they act as brokers in a deliberate choice of evil 
This the gravest violation of good clouds and corrupts judgement 
Entrapment and sale of poor unfortunate vulnerable women as brides
victims of greed to an illegal trade one grave offence
Turning away from evil out of fear of punishment 
we ourselves are in a position of slaves

Studies have been carried out the world over 
treating women as baggage or a commodity or an item of less worth
they lead their victims into evil doing without choice 
They do the most punishing of manual labor exploited under extreme conditions
Some have been taken from their families forcefully again'st their will 
then sold many times over as sexual objects and given drugs 
sedated to prevent them from escaping living a life of constant fear 

Tears roll down my cheeks 
law is a broken promise of truth to protect innocence
25 years of selective abortions willfully being practiced
by doctors and surgeons alike
protecting wrong doers cry people oppressed forced in some circumstances
life is sacred a verdict of moral conscience 

Only in the female section a shame and disgrace 
now a population of mostly men seed of their wrong doing
Oppression of the poor cries to Heaven for revenge 
keeping of slaves deprives thee laborer of their wages 
were is human rights in all this God be merciful 

Our blessed mother holding Queen of Heaven sits with the father and the son 
forgive them as they are blind to the truth an ignorance in their guilt
A mothers tears are the most precious love one blessing 
The suffering of these innocent girls, we all seek happiness in the fairy tale end

Rich men acting as brokers dowries a property exchange how awfully sad
How shameful this is slavery returning to the past sins 
enduring a life of constant sexual abuse considered unclean
this should be banned as it turns my stomach were is equality
More the Devil's advocate, such heartache and tears justice a virtue
all because you were born a woman some are taken by force an uneven balance
beaten and battered victims, a sadness overwhelms me 

Sex selective abortions, a blast again'st girls 
if the unborn child is female more than likely will be aborted
Costs of dowries crippling to parents, going into debt 
A woman, one precious jewel in my eyes who gives birth to new life 
in the fruit of love, to be held equal with an equivalent say
contrary to the divine  law
Created from a rib of man 

Families torn apart for what, such reason greed of money
The countless women enslaved live in hope 
unrepented evil brings eternal darkness destroys charity
This new prosperity is but a distant dream for some 
10 million people in enslaved in India

They have an imperialist attitude with political dominance over the poor 
The colonist legacy remains with status 
Some are considered of worthless class
Slavery laws should be enforced abolishing such inhumane cruelty 
in such loveless acts
fruits of charity are joy to behold brings peace and mercy 
as they project something to the outside world that they are not 
Hidden under the carpet their lies the sins of falsehood  






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The Stranger in the House

I wander through this house
As silent as a mouse

Though it is my own I feel I've been away
I'm rather speechless, having not much to say

I see my brother working in the shed
Just passing the time as if he's seen red

I see my other brother smoking a cigarette
With no enthusiasm... has he too seen red?

I do my daily routine
Pace, contemplate and clean

Though something is not quite right
This summer day bears no light

I come into the living room
Usually lively... filled with joy

Now it's naked and abandoned
Like a toddlers chest of old toys

But wait... I see Mother on the couch
She's sad with wet crimson face

She doesn't even say hello
Has my coming here been a waste?

"Why are you crying Mother
Have I done something wrong?"

She just sobs and sobs
... a rather disquieting song

My father looks down at her
With a smile

But something about him
Seems quite vile

"I miss him... I miss him so much"
She cries so helplessly

"Who do you miss Mother?
I don't understand what you mean..."

My dad buts in with no consideration
Revealing horrible secrets in such wicked display

"Alright, alright... I confess... I killed him!
But quite you're crying about it, it's better off this way!"

It all comes to me
In such a sudden burst

I feel the intense hatred
So much it hurts

I'm not here... I don't exist... (at least not anymore)
I'm the stranger in the house!

But soon I'll get my revenge
I'll make Father feel as tiny as a mouse!

I know what you've done
I should've known all along

I will tell everyone
And correct this home gone wrong

I'll come to life again! I'l---






Wait...

Rooms dark...

Blanket wet... I feel cold...

Why am I laying down? Was all that just a---

"Morning son! I've made you breakfast;
Scrambled eggs and french toast, your favorite!"

Could he really? ... no...
Just a dream...



NOTE: This entire dream actually happened to me. The only thing that was fiction was the part about my dad making me breakfast in the morning.



For Russel Sivey's Dream Contest

03 - 19 - 2013


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The Old Man

Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.” Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end. When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.” The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold. The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed. Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged. The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.


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Crazy

My friends and I had midnight hide and seek
One had to stand by a tree and not peek
In my state of hiding great I was hard to find
My friends decided to just be unkind
They all got together and decided to hunt me down
I first hid in the river near my house and almost drown
When they walk close by me I silently move through the grass
It was very hard to see, but I crawled a long time and almost ran out of gas
Then I heard one say that they were going up and wait by the tree
I had an idea that made a way to make them see
A shadow that ran in the distance thinking that would be
I had my horse pull a little manikin to make them think it was me
My friends took their flashlight and shined it toward it
I thought I had them but one thing was clear they did not fall for it not a bit
They all laugh and started to call out my name
They all asked how the heck did you have time to pull that trick that was so lame
I did not answer so they kept on looking for me, but I was so quick 
Some of my friends started to get really mad and tick
I was a master of doing weird things they all knew what I can do
The night was still young and the grass was collecting dew
I decided to make a distraction once again
To think of it, it would probably make the night end
My friends finally surrounded my tree house
I was quiet, so quiet, more than a mouse
I had some rope in the tree house to make my escape
To distract them I made a loud noise like an ape
The tree that my tree house was in was at least forty feet up
I had some stash in my tree house a drink or two in a cup
My final hour is about to end I did not want my friends to catch me till I got to the tree
I took the rope and tide it on a branch and pushed off and that was the key
I landed on the garage roof and sneaked my way to the tree
My friends knew me to well that they plan things before I could see
They had a fish net ready for me to step into
I thought that was kinda wise and some what like pew
The few feet by the tree there was two of my friends that was ready
Up in the tree they both jumped down and pulled me up in the net fast and steady
They thought they had won, the person had to tag me before I touch tree
She ended up having to get something to stand on to reach me
I swung my weight back and forth till I ended up touching and the game ended
My friends and I were so full of surprises and that is what the game handed


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A Black Coffee's Chill

Tossed my slippers, walked barefooted
through the alley of my wall where my paintings are adorned, 
saw the canvasses lined neatly on wall
where dim light of longings path throughout the hall...

Chosen good ones, brewed best
aroma of this black coffee so crisp, 
haunts me in a night's fright
of tormenting silence throughout the night! 

A teaspoon of sugar is added 
with this black coffee in my mug is mixed, 
halt for a while to smell it's effects, 
savoring the bitterness as it touches my lips.

I traced to hallway, stood at the glass window, 
3: 30 in the morning, no one not even any vehicles flow, 
into the streets lights blinking routinely
as my mind wander for an unhealthy imaginary.

A shot of gun, bullet on my shoulder
as I escape from a path so dark in my mind which alter, 
I run...run as fast as I could
and lift the gun out of my motorbike's hood! 

A shadow...laughing and running
in my mind he is chasing, 
I stop, look and lean
on the dark wall of the 14th street so clean.

But wind blows suddenly steadfast, 
dirt and dust kissed my face and blinded my eyes, 
I am blind for a split in 15 seconds
and there the man stood afront of me and beckons! 

Grabbed my arm and snatched the gun
twisted me facing the wall with his arm so damn, 
I felt his anger through his breath 
and say, 'Lady, end of your road, enough, have a rest! '

Then he forced me to face him
grabbing me by hand so firm, 
his weight upon me, so close I can't breathe
and my surprise, his face mellowed and plant me a kiss! 

Split seconds, that vision came
and I realized I am so lame, 
that imaginary vision strikes me well
and brought my black coffee to chill! 

A Black Coffee's Chill...!?

Inner Whispers

(I believe that visions happen in split seconds. Can this be a warning or a message?)


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Noises in my head

Unless you understand ,
What it's like to have noises inside your head 
Loud sometimes buzzing ,always keeping beat.
They say to have tinnitus is temporary you see
But when I have these noises, they envelop me.               

Lose my concentration, 
Cannot sit and think.
Want them to stop buzzing. 
Like cicadas on a tree. 
Constantly building intensity and force.

I feel that there will come a day
When I stand some where and scream
Tell each and ever person
To remove the sounds I hear
For once nothing would be good.

I know it's my condition
To listen every day 
To buzzing crackling noises
That never go away.
If I'm lucky they diminish. 

There not as loud as some
Days that had me crying
Wanting just to run
This is my affliction 
I battle every day. 

Because I let a surgeon
Roto root my head
He was supposed to fix my sinus
Not turn on headphones
Buzzing every day. 




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Battling Addiction

No one knew his background, he did not speak of family 
Not even the one left, whom he felt was a burden
His younger sister with whom he’d been out of touch

Financially, he was doing alright, handsome and perfectly fit
Friends wondered why he wasn’t dating
When asked, he’d merely laugh it off

If they only knew the burden he bore, haunted by his crippling addiction
A demon that had seized his body now hungered for his soul
Making its lustful demands at will by day or night

At first he seemed to keep his secret well, appearing as, just one of the guys
While apart, he rode the subway daily
With eyes of a hunter he surveyed

A different girl he took each time, In his home or some dark street corner 
When he had no access to girls, alone, he’d easily play “solitaire”
Or browse the magazines and internet

Secrets like acorns take a while to grow, his were no different; just biding 
time
Til the day of discovery arrived unannounced
Hidden files on the office hard drive

Confronted, he walked away in shame, and some ray of light seared his mind
At home he bagged and trashed his toys
Especially his favorite, the laptop

Temptation came fiercer and with maddening force, took him on a binge
That night he sank to the lowest belly of the beast
Ignoring his sister’s desperate call for help 

When he'd had his fill of a sordid, assortment of lust, a flicker of conscience 
emerged from within
Off he ran in the cold, pouring rain to find his sister alone 
Alone, in the bath with her wrists cut; her precious life slowly ebbing away

It was mercy which kept her alive, barely, and by her hospital bed he sat for 
three days!
Later, outside her room in the parking lot as he left, beyond broken he fell 
upon his knees 
And through his tears and the rain, he cried out loud , “God have mercy!”

That’s how a man, bankrupt; without love or self worth gained a second 
chance...
At a most pivotal time in his life; in need of redemption
The shackles of addiction laid broken in torrent rain...free once more to be 
himself.
~*~
02/25/13
Inspired by the HBO movie, "Shame"