Gothic. Poems - Poems about Gothic.

Shelley wove us a tale of a monster more a man A fleshy beast without, a broken heart within Created in hubris and sin Stitched together and broken Again and again. Frayed and tattered Unraveled and splintered Brittle and battered Bled out and injured Held together by needle and thread Less alive and more or less dead A patchwork man, soulless and cold Unmended scars numbers untold I...

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Gnarled trees yawn under a starless sky As a swift coldness mixes with the "howling wilderness,” Crescendos until pure silence strangles the macabre atmosphere. Preparing for the imminent journey, I place a slip of paper under an obsidian crystal, Lay my favourite burgundy blouse upon a distressed bedframe. The tick tock, tick tock of the clock cracks at 1:16...

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The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla, was upon us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black. From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all, like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived trailing a...

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Veil of midnight, shroud of ache, A hollow heart begins to wake, Unfed, unwhole, in shadow curled, Craving life within this world. A wraith unseen yet bound to thirst, The agony—a wicked curse, Flesh untouched but essence bled, Hungering for what is shed. Through trembling dark and...

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There's a place without walls. For those who swear that they are floors. and oh how they die like a flowers bloom they lie so still in forgotten tombs (It's not to late to care) Oh how I miss the lunar gloom back when stars filled the sky with forgotten tunes. Come and take my hand don't be afraid. here are all...

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A Silent whisper hanging on the breath of the night. Another lost soul out of control in the pale moon light. A sliver of silver, the Autom shiver on a cool dark night. If you look over your shoulder it's right where I told you in the pale moon light. You're dancing with demons, I bet you never see them. on...

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Its time to pay your rent. ...

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The rustling of leaves interplays with the ocean breeze, as traces of moonlight escape through blackout curtains hanging from steel rods. Bolts of illumination highlight stacks of books caked in dust, while a man, decrepit with age, sits on a worn auburn-coloured leather chair. His balding hair is grey from years of turmoil. Wrinkles lay heavy, nestled deep within his...

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Now I have the money Time to escape Before Djinn wakes Help I’m running in haste I think he’s coming ...

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Gothic She Is Pale white skin. The night begins. Always with dark eyeliner. With black haunted clothes. With many tattoos. A black rose. With painted thorns. Gothic is born. Thorns grow on a vine. You're alive at night. In the broken mirror, is a beautiful face. You stand out in the crowd. Follow your own...

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Made my escape While the Djinn sleeps Now to run off with the Djinns money Need a large carrier Must hurry ...

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When you pay rent of hell a register appears in your house A rent book and black pen Your actions essence turned into knots that appear as black ropes Your thoughts noted in a book and weighted on the scales of the register. Very dark in your eyes with visions of hell. To break these knots, you need golden...

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To make a spell to cast on your enemy Without strings and things For doing something nasty to you Take their photo Write what they did on photo Curse their photo Take it to the graveyard Dig hole and bury near entrance in soil Curse something nasty happen to them Repeat what they did At home Take a small cauldron Fill with water...

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A Car drove past, Radio screaming like it knew. Bird landed on a brittle branch, It doesn’t sing. Wind blowing leaves, But they don’t dance Colours are fading, Or is it blood? Are we bleeding? Everything is turning grey. It’s cold – I hold my breath. Where did the sun go? Misery never left, It watched, hushed. Streets are empty The...

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I am the ghost inside my chest, Unseen, unheard, yet never at rest. I drift through halls of memory, Where joy once lived but fled from me. My breath like frost, my blood runs cold, A whisper trapped in hands grown old. I wear regret like funeral lace, And see the world through sorrow’s face....

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