Best Dungeons Poems
inane mind games anchor us here
ego desires, mirrored by fear
fickle yet, is our attention
unstable orientation
we have driven ourselves to tears
16-July-2021
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To pour lifes words from the chalice into ones soul; thirsting ~
Never be it quenched; living waters, cascading from loves fountain
Into these eyes; and let not anothers breath, be the vision as of mine...
Carved this knife to slice fervent veins clingling, unto amissful sight; bite
The sepulcher of my throat; spewing black sediment into the sky
That I may bleed these shadows from my heart; amputating yesterdays
Poisons, amid tomorrows crimsons tongue...
Drain living waters into my soul that I may not bow at the altar
Of sorrows; casting away loves treasured gifts left strewn in forgotten dust
Carried into the ambient winds of tears; perdition now its conjured home
No, I shall not be left to rot in hades no matter how far it is I may fall...
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...“Dungeons and Dragons” ~
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To pour life's words from your chalice into ones soul; thirsting ~
Never be it quenched; living waters, cascading from love's fountain
Into these eyes; and let not another's breath, be the vision as of mine....
Carved this knife to slice fervent veins clinging, unto amissful sight; bite
The sepulcher of my throat; spewing black sediment into the sky
That I may bleed these shadows from my heart; amputating yesterday's
Poison amid tomorrow's crimson, tongue....
Drain Love's living waters into my Spirit: that I may not bow at the altar
Of sorrows casting away Beauty's treasured gifts: left strewn about forgotten
Dust carried into the ambient winds as tears; perdition, now it's conjured home ?
No, beyound these gates I shall not be left to rot in hades no matter how far it is....
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....“That We May Fall ~ `Dungeons And Dragons`” *
a muse cornered
screaming against mind's walls
locked in dungeons of thought
unable to escape
in verse, or metaphor
common words
without rhythm
faltered in sentences
unable to create imagery
recreate forms
or express depths of emotion
no temporary escape
from bottled pain
no ink to bleed
through metered words
just pages
falling ordinary
like a history book
lacking details
to bore you
to sleep
no shakespearean sonnets
to recreate, no plays to enact
no raven's of poe's to recite
no words to excite
no lyrics to songs
just music without words
falling silent to the screams
locked in mind's thoughts
unable to be birthed
through poetry
in it's nonexistence
January 20, 2020
if there were no poetry contest
sponsored by Silent One
One's unending greed to built palaces on earth at any cost
Succeeds in building dungeon in hell's domain for his soul!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 January 2021
I’ve been building dungeons in my mind,
For far too long,
Yearning for what is lost and, so far
From my spirit’s, home,
I’m living in the lost citadel of my mind,
Where reality is tainted,
By the agenda of my youth,
Pursuing the spiritual nourishment,
I left behind,
Passionately seeking the consummate truth.
Why should I search for,
What I don’t know I don’t know,
While the chorus in my heart refuses to stay.
But, there is no were for it to go,
My solace comes from knowing,
Clouds are cheap,
But, is that enough,
To wake me from this emotional sleep?
Deep under the water and brown earth,
Deep into the core when life gave birth,
Statues left unfinished on the well’s bottom,
Some place where I still cannot fathom.
Nothing to see through the wall of sins,
Shattered gems crying before it begins,
Doomsday, the theme of all that was,
The end of life and time that came to us.
Running in circles just to get by, oh why,
Why does it have to be so hard, I try
Expanding my soul to the borders of time,
The present and past, the future will be mine.
So I start to play this game to save them
I started a war against the terror, the black,
Just to reach the light on the right track,
In this way you’ll never have to condemn.
Piece by piece, inch by inch I step forward,
Deep into the cluster of Devils labyrinth,
Exchange words and thoughts just to give me time
To save my angels and damage the coursed line.
I faked the promise I gave to the shadow,
And the statues slowly are melting away,
Right into a moment of embrace and joy,
And right before I die I close the window.
Now all I do is wait and as rock I remain...
Dumb John and Dumb Gin
Delve Beneath Under Mountain
Drag In and Drag On
black tears weep
while angels sleep
they're jealous of the light
blessed tears wept
while angels slept
he created the light
black hearts rage
an empty cage
see them hide from the light
bright hearts age
an open page
living inside the light
Returning back to earth, elements five,
that that remains, is essence of presence,
spirit unfettered, here on earth to jive,
until ego stifles soul’s innocence,
whereupon veiled remains luminescence,
with attention orbiting narrow grooves,
enmeshed in desires, conscience disapproves,
remaining thus in hypnotic slumber,
bleeding needlessly under dream form hooves,
plunged in darkness, by fears that encumber.
06-March-2022
I love the strange world of fantasy
where IMAGINATION is the star
and WHIMSY provides a canopy
as weird creatures fly in from afar
Dungeons, dragons, a Lady, a Lord
and sybils who DREAM all but tell less
VISUALIZATION colors words
purple, red, gold, darkness is the dress
Please don't say it's HALLUCINATION
MY REVERIE is true as the moon
I have known a few purple dragons
and I'm having lunch with two at noon
The Devil’s Soliloquy in Grey
The mists do not rise by chance; they obey. They are the exhaled breath of my boredom, Curling around the jagged peaks of the Balinoks, Choking the valleys in perpetual twilight. I sit upon the high throne of Ravenloft, A needle of black stone piercing an anemic sky, And I look down upon the chessboard of Barovia. The peasants below, shivering in their hovels, Call me "The Devil" when they think the wind isn't listening. Fools. The wind is mine, too.
I remember the warmth of the sun, vaguely, Like a story told by a grandfather I never knew. I traded it for this: cold stone, eternal hunger, And the awful clarity of endless time. I traded a brother’s blood for a crown that never tarnishes, A pact sealed in the amber shadows of a forgotten temple. Now, I am the Ancient. I am the Land. My veins are the rivers, running deep and cold; My eyes are the wolves that watch from the timberline; My spies are the bats hanging like leather fruit in the eaves.
And then, there is Her. The maddening, beautiful cycle. Tatyana. By any name, the same soul, the same doomed visage, The one bright jewel I cannot keep in this sepulchral jewelry box. She returns to me through the generations, A tantalizing phantom just beyond the stained glass. Does she know, this time, in her village beneath the shadow? Does she feel my gaze like a physical weight upon her shoulder? I will burn the world to hold her again, And I will weep blood when she inevitably falls, Only to wait for the wheel to turn once more.
And now, you. The interlopers. Little heroes, stumbling through the Svalich Woods, Armed with holy symbols that feel lukewarm in this godless place, And swords that will dull against my skin. You are fresh meat for the grinder, a pleasant diversion. Come, let me test the mettle of your souls. Let me see if you break with a snap, or bend with a whimper. Accept my invitation. Dine in my halls. Play my game until the amusement fades.
Look up at the spires. Know your insignificance. You are a flickering candle in a hurricane. I am the storm that never ends.
God holds back not
we forgot love
life plot thus lost
03-September-2021
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Your black carriage moves through perpetual gloom~
Ravenloft’s castle sits, perched atop Barovia’s bone-white crags,
its spine hunched over fog-choked valleys.
You sit alone in Ravenloft, tracing chess moves on dusty marble,
fingertips lingering where Tatyana’s pawn once stood~
writing names in your ledger, the ink brown as blood.
You are a silhouette of despair, swirling brandy in your amber-hued snifter~
the moonlight bruising your study’s velvet drapery,
the centuries calcifying the ache behind your ribs.
Your shadow clings to the castle walls long after candles sputter~
haunting notes of an unseen organ drift through the night,
calling lost souls to your eternal embrace.
You stalk the hunt that cannot feed~immortal thirst, forever starved.
Yet you smile and pour yourself another century.
Here lies the only opening to hell
A lovely rapture
For any person hoping to live and tell
When even the lord himself
Turns his shoulder and looks away
The curse of man
To never again see a passing day
The world is only a reflection of your doom
In our weary eyes, failure looms
Here lies the only opening to hell
A lovely rapture
For any person hoping to live and tell
Floating naked devils
The obstacles I come to find upon my return
Currently digging my way to a forsaken level
Reflecting on past transgressions
It’s become a field of flawed confessions
I remember a child
Whom once looked to captivate the world
Fallen short he realized he was but a colorful mutt
Finding comfort in a reality that all doors were shut
Here lies the only opening to hell
A lovely rapture
For any person hoping to live and tell