I cannot compete with something as painstakingly glorious as you
Envy is but a humbling tumble down a steep, rocky hill
I am crushed in your fits of glory—your screaming for passion
My approaches are absolutely wrong
Therefore my communication is a weak, ransomed victim
Your poison arrow frog skin rubs against my exposed body
I happily accept my fate
For your beauty surpasses the ephemeral pain of the infectious reign
My erroneous, inevitable downfall
I hold you up—I feel the need to keep you tall!
Michael the Archangel did not insult you once, Lucifer
How then will I?
How can I possibly be higher than you?-
Why would I want to?
I admire your freedom
I simply disregard your macrodomes of ever-worshiped flaw
If I could allow myself, I would share in your glory
Only to add to it further
But as I am poisoned with the truth
I can only be your grounded pedestal
And though you flee from humility in its wake upon my brow
I realize everyday you are living for the grounded now
And I merely look to the unknown future
A place I dread where you unwillingly hold me up
Bonded in the ground with Death and Hades
You become my pedestal, and the worms my vineyard
My parasitic feet seer your glory
I am ever so sorry
I never wanted this renown
There was a time I do recall
When you overtook me in my sleep
I cried aloud in helpless acceptance
But soon I was forced in a croak of laughter
I felt your bitter poison
I felt pride at last
I thank you for it
I thank you for showing me
What I will never be
Provoke me no longer to praise your eternal existence
Generations of Evening take a hold of me now
And the fruit must be shared
Nyx - Ode -
The shadows know the
scent of clove
as Nyx devolves her
her odes address the
inviting so, the
Her darkness strings
her laughter waves
inside the ether,
small hours submit
advancing 'mid the
sage and heather.
The creatures glance
- with eyes of amber
beneath the blinking
while Nyx, the
The blanching moon,
in ventured glory,
embraced by Erebus
unfolds her mane of
She meekly bids to
worlds of blooms,
the mortals on the
bestowing grand the
kiss of death,
with fates to weave
the orchard looms.
deeds and dismal,
with sovereignty she
guides - abysmal,
the chanted souls to
her clouded callings
© G. Venetopoulos,
26-03-2014 - (date
the poem was
© G. Venetopoulos,
Nyx = Night
Paintings of Nyx:
The story on
Nyx ("Night" in
Greek) – Roman (in
Latin): Nox – is the
Greek goddess (or
the night. A shadowy
figure, Nyx stood at
or near the
creation, and was
the mother of other
such as Hypnos
(Sleep) and Thanatos
sparse in surviving
reveal her as a
and beauty. She is
found in the shadows
of the world and
only ever seen in
On the border of the obscure wastelands,
In the depths of shadows and torments,
Far beyond the land of Never Was, Never Will
Is a place where I hold you, strong and silent…
As the shards of your sensitive sadness prevail,
Sifting the awaiting coals below,
I shall reflect slivers of your light upon the darkest woe!
I fight with the broken alliance within the dimmest coves,
I mean to pull you into Death’s demise
Where the pained poets prevail and the suns of justice arise
So that e’en the coldest of coals reach warmth!
Generating power so strong, that the gods step aside
As these diamonds-to-be burst into the light of day
Revealing your words of Always Was… and Always Will
The Black Diamond, once captive…finally free…though coal black still!
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
Her eyes showed me a way,
Her unique smile let my tears go away,
Her Beautiful face made me to say,
Is this Love, or what???
Started to have feeling of love,
Started to behave nicely and different,
Started to smile when there was no reason to smile,
Still, Is this Love, or what??
Tried to approach her, but felt belittled, lowly, shy,
Tried to ask her for date, but felt afraid, scared, shocked,
Tried to express my love, felt would be rejected, hurt, unheard,
Well still, Is this love, or what?
I can fix anything, why not this thing,
I can talk to any girl, why not this girl,
I can really convince anyone, why not this one,
Came before many girl, why not this girl.
Do please not tell me its just nothing,
Do tell me how to do something about this thing...Love,
Do tell me anything about this thing…Love,
Will there be rejection or appreciation??????????
You have my soul, but you have your fate
Whatever your words, I’m willing to take
You have my word; I’ll give you my breath
It’s like a chain that would never be break
You are my love with all my heart,
I’ll fight for you with all my might.
And in the way, you admire your goals,
You hold my hands, but not so close.
As you go to your chosen path,
I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart.
In the dark side, I leave behind
Within my faith, that you’ll arise
Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still
I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near
I accept my fate for what it does,
I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was?
You reach your goals, as you want to have,
Would you remind the man that gave what he had?
As you reach the stars, and be the one
Be a sun that shines its own.
After the rain, the rainbow comes,
Like dark in the moon, when the light flash
A glimpse from you at least a short
For then I knew my pain is worth.
You are the sibling of Darkness
Only representing all friendliness
but you're mistaken too much
You surround me with a clutch
You hide from liberation
But you somehow form your recreation
You extinguish my fear
and make things very, very clear.
Ode to Joy Life Brings.
By: Kitty Jones
The pain the sorrow
I’ll get over tomorrow
Oh what joy life brings.
In my life there is no sorrow.
I try to be insensitive
To all you’re wants and needs
And when you have an open wound
I try to make you bleed.
What is hope?
What is laughter?
What is happily ever after
The pain the sorrow
I’ll get over tomorrow
Oh what joy life brings.
Alas! We meet again!
We held fist against each other back then,
But once more now I see you,
And I am more than ready too.
Conceding to you my life,
For this conflict cannot be ceased by strife,
You are with the Divine,
And I thank you for the gift of extended Time.
Alas! My friend depart with me,
Guide me and give me the chance to be free,
Free from the clutches of life and its reality,
Grant me the feeling of eternal glee.
To my friends I say to you all,
Do not see my death as my own downfall,
For I am happy with my old friend who visits me now and then,
Let him do as he pleases for this is the fate of all men.
The shadows know the scent of cloves,
as Nyx devolves from sleep's crossroad,
the night-owls croak to domes above,
her ode the stars turns to abode.
Her firmness strings the scene's stillness,
her laughter waves in hung ether,
small hours' submit her thoughts' steepness,
advancing 'mid green heather.
The night birds watch - with eyes of amber
night wraiths descend from stardome flare,
upon a sky-drome meander
that ghostly travelers time-share.
Brilliant's the moon in ventured glory,
above shapes lays and daunting wraiths,
her eminence surpassed souls' faith,
to hark the travelers' lone story.
And kind advanced to lands of blooms,
as night conveyed upon each breath,
she confers grand the kiss of death,
with fates to weave on lethal looms.
On darkened growth she shines dismal,
In Stygian reign she rules - abysmal,
enchanted souls shall dwell in void,
with Acheron's old paths destroyed.
© G.V. 10-03-2012, All Rights Reserved
Nyx = Night
From hell shrivelled hands and voices in the chilly night make appearance
Hand and voices of evil ugly gory demons
Evil that torments the soul day and night
This is the story of Arusha
Arusha the woman possessed by legion
Legion of demons
Demons of promiscuity and self destruct
Powerful destruct that engages the soul
Her soul is in the grip of the power of darkness
Darkness a sanctum of hell
Oh Arusha how hell has swallowed your soul
Arusha’s soul has become a battle ground
I feel pity for Arusha as she often lets out demonic shrills
Shrills that sends chills down my spine
Remember the evil hands and voices of torment
Its torment called insanity
Insanity without cure
Arusha now is now a companion of cocaine
Cocaine I am sure you know it
Its Satan’s concoction of dementia
Concoction that destroys the soul men
Men become slaves to the voices and hands of hell
As they seek the thrill of gothic
A potently evil thrill that kills the soul
Sending the soul to eternal damnation
The story of Arusha ended in suicide
Suicide is a deceptive medicine for tormented souls
I wept for Arusha
Senseless weeping: it was too late
I was mortified when I discovered her lifeless body
A body once full of life
A soul so beautiful
Her soul is now eternally damned
In peace may you rest Arusha
To see or not to see, past the illusion.
Of truth secretly whispered back and forth,
Shakespeare publicly fought between life and death
for pure amusement.
Within my thoughts, hope's not lost but found,
don't fight with fear use it.
Time is endlessly precious when our soul starts to lose grip.
Loose lips, wondering eyes, curious minds
in search of the light.
Collide in a beautiful place
where I am nothing
connected to everything
real matter cannot be erased.
The juggler moves his fingers fast,
he likes to smile and to deceive,
when people laugh at his recast,
his goal's higher things to achieve,
for Bathsheba applauds and laughs.
Her hands she claps with sullen glee,
changed him to a marionette,
that sprawls for her obediently,
jinxed tragicomical duette,
he jumps defeating gravity.
The juggler walks on tightened rope,
St. Bernard will protect his act,
frail equilibrium's postponed,
he'll pass across, crows' croaks detract,
agleam granite pavement's below.
Unmoved he laid, (lost souls misgive) ,
the juggler sprawled did not bemoan,
the sawbones's charlatan and thief,
as Bathsheba failed to dethrone,
the clown's tangential unknown grief.
© G. V. 12/23/2012, All Rights Reserved
( Iambic tetrameter form.)
My poetry ignites a giant flame, that begins to flow, and continuously grow.
I enter the morbid mind of that legendary name, and I hear the demonic laugh of Edgar Allen
My poetry is like a continuous fire, fueled by a huge dose of inspiration.
This legendary poet wraps me in barbed-wire, taking me back to his generation!
A wicked grin, as I push my writing pen across the white blood spotted page.
Hypnotized, I am baptized in the blood of his sin, thus begins the dark rage!
Demonic thoughts take over me, and my personality is metamorphosed to the dark side.
As I read Poe's Poetry, I'm consumed by his energy, and I metamorphose from Dr. Jekyll to
My poetry opens unknown doors, and follows that dark path of Edgar Allen Poe.
The couplet's are blowing up like C-4, and swimming in a bloodbath of woe!
The creativity comes from deep within, and I see Poes poetry in my mind's eye.
I'm swallowed into obscurity for my sin, and the poetry in me follows the way of the Samurai!
So as I'm continuously inspired, I'll keep writing till I come to the end of the rainbow.
And although the great poet has expired, I'll keep fighting to promote the works of Edgar