Some days aren’t so great.
They drag on like the heavy chains of sinners, and every dark emotion fills my being.
On those days, I question everything.
People whose friendship has proven true to me.
My family.
My peers.
Myself.
But then, on those days,
If I’m lucky,
I see a glimmer of hope.
Like the tiny sparks preceding a roaring blaze.
Taking form in a conversation.
An exchange.
A smile.
Those days, I am reminded of my experiences.
The horrors behind me.
The journey of healing ahead.
And most of all, the promise of a new beginning.
It’s out there, and maybe one day I’ll find it.
Those days project a multitude of colors encompassing the beautiful spectrum life has to offer.
Today was one of those days.
if only salty warm watery tears
could give insight to more
comforts and truths (truth)
maybe understanding of the wrong
could be seen so much clearer
pain so much less felt
but it only bears proof of pain
not a truth to the cause
just a overwhelming dark emotion
leaking from the brain
beating in the heart
pushing up from in the throat
crushing the mental ripped soul from all angles
taking all manner of reason
not caring as to why
but wanting all pain to
stop...
I'm hiding here amongst your brood
slowly hush communication
poison I inject the mood
begging for some segregation
Sacrifice one, I implore you please
and load him with your dark emotion
when he's brought down to his knees
allow him access to my potion
Downhill drink and sniff and shoot
twirl him and just step away
most will grind him with their boot
afraid their souls his poor display
The neighbors they will Fedex pity
bind with them so feed them thus
tell them he is in the city
then throw him weak beneath a bus
He'll cobble there in frail despair
rotting in and out
no longer can he ever care
converging with the undevout
Now clear retire hacienda
grand and drama free
you'll have completed an agenda
many infants drowned at sea
Cerulean pools
cascade slowly
with glistening pain,
tracing the gentle curve
of your soft skin,
caressing each
contoured crease
as if sweetly kissing
your flushed cheek.
Like the bright beaming
rays that fall silent
on the frozen blue
of winters snow shadows,
the crescent moon
mirrors the secrets
in the turned corners
of your blushing lips,
crimson window
into your beautiful soul.
Lost in your reflection
you hide from you,
unable to see
what the world sees,
unable to feel
what I feel
unable to know
the special beauty
you possess,
the beauty that envelopes
each person
you touch with your
magic embrace.
Lost is the sound of
your dulcet song
from my longing ear,
sweet melancholic words
of your sad sorrow,
buried deeply
in your demon's
hate filled ebon bosom,
as it pushes the wonder
that is you,
the beauty
that is you,
the lost essence
of you
and only you,
ever deeper
inside of its lonely,
cold, cruel hate,
gone forever in
dark emotion.
02/01/15
We are banished to the limits of our moral servitude,
Held deep in the valleys of its existence, trapped in the silence of time;
And dimly shone the starlight, hidden in its own reflection
Doomed to the darkness of night
Forgotten is a memory past, its meaning lost to time,
Where the good of one is measured by the worth of that solitude;
Words remain in the value of there meaning, when its truth is gone astray,
And with age the stars still glimmer, atop a ghostly shadow
Quiet sounds may inspire our wisdom, like those of a creaking floor,
Truth is held to the design of its structure, and not by the knowledge therein;
Through time the memories pass, and we are left with what’s to be,
And those inspired by their own ideas have vanished long ago
Journey on to that memory gone, past our life’s beliefs,
Bound not to the question of death, but what is held in its endless thought;
For where resides the spirit, returning nevermore,
In a place of dark emotion, beneath the silence of time
I'm hitting bottom, I'm sinking
in deep. It seems impossible to
keep my head afloat. I have no
outlet other then this sheet of
paper. The ink that stains it is
every dark emotion trapt inside
my heart. The friend with no
reply that knows all my
personally sinister thoughts.
Writing should be written with
true emotion. Tears won't roll
from my eyes, but these pages
tell a sad story. In person you
wouldn't think it was me behind
the pen. Creating this some
kinda poetry. My dark side
exists here along with my
weakness. This new level of low
isn't me. Change is the only
must. I'm hitting bottom, but
it's time to get up and brush it
off. Need to live for a brighter
tomorrow.
Bitter, dismayed
Forever life's maid
Desperate, heart-broken
Life's only token
Crushed and crestfallen
Life was a burden
Croaking with fear
Her breaths were no more dear
She stood staring in the mirror of hopelessness
Holding her hands stood congealed loneliness
A mystical pain grew out of proportion
Her thoughts entangled in one dark emotion
Scared to death, she shouted
A mist like pandemonium mounted
Lost again she was in her own purgatory
As ever she remained solitary
A quiver run down her spine
And there she froze as a statue divine
Many moons had come and gone
Sorrow in the tides of dawn
Told myself it's not to be
There will be no love for me
No soft whispering in the night
Making love at morning's light
Warm embraces,hotter passion
Solitude was just my fashion
But now as the year does close
I am given to love glows
No more hidden,dark emotion
I am filled with bright devotion
To a new love come to see
All the pent up ecstasy
Someone holds their faith in me
Though locked to him,I am free
In the framework of desire
I am pictured so much higher
Pain of past year now forgot
I've received the love I sought
**for contest "Happy Year"
sponsored by Royal Trevino
I am
lost in my mind
steeped in dark emotion.
Shadows block the light from my eyes
and all I see is the blackness of pain
which holds my heart captive again.
Swift flow my silver tears
and burn my skin
in trails.
Some days, they flow like the nile,
bringing life to the parched soil.
Some days, they bring forth
a dark emotion to the open
like waves of a raging sea,
swelling to break free.
These voices in my head
screaming at me.
Other days, like prying fingers
of the long dead.
They are cemented in my head.
No matter how I ply.
Still they stay,
locked away,
awaiting another day.
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