Long Lovedeath Poems
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In the early days of March, at the very start of spring
I saw people plant roses, and praise the love they would bring
Well, at that point I had been saving a special sort of seed
And that spring I would plant it, even though there where warnings, I did not heed
And now loves rose is dead, and with it, burnt, is loves creed
Woe! That seed I had saved, held close and took care of from a very early age
That seed I had obtained from an accidental meeting, on the swings, at a very early age
Now I fear that this seed is ruined, and I fear I’ve lost a friend
It’s a fear that digs deep into my cold, melancholy core, I can’t pretend
For it was a beautiful friendship, that I never intended to end
Yes, I had planted this seed in the early days of March, the month of my birth
And though at first the rose was shy, it slowly stemmed out of the earth
But it was soon growing faster, faster even than the fabled roses of lore
It grew with such a haste that one might have thought that it wouldn’t grow anymore
Yes, this rose, that might have frown too fast, had put love in my core
Now, on the last day of March, the very date on which, many years ago, I was born
This rose gave me a gift as it hid from me every thorn
And this rose, it seemed, had given me the will to succeed
In my life, I had finally had the confidence to take the lead
I loved, more than anything, the rose that sprouted out of this seed
And the month that followed, I can’t lie, was bliss
And it’s time I will, forever more, miss
For the month following, I regret to say, my rose died
Indeed, it was the only time that, for a flower, I had ever cried
It left me weeping, with no ego left to gloat, with no self pride
Yes, early in May is where you may date my death
Call me death, for without that rose, I’m not living, though I still draw breath
Lay me on my death bed, and let my quietly pass on, away
For any place without that rose is no place I want to stay
So please, lay me on my death bed, and leave! Let me lay
Woe, that rose died, and I can only guess why
Perhaps I watered it too much, and forced it to be too un-shy
Perhaps I was too ignorant to say the words it needed to hear
Yes, perhaps, perhaps, that all I can say
And I will say it all the while
While I walk away
Farewell
Goodbye
Good
Bye
Her eyes open to a sunrise that fades in shades bright from its early black
Another day with the weight of the world on her shoulders and a void at her back
But she gets up and bares it because she’s strong and her soul remains intact
Stating that she’s more than amazing is none less than a concrete fact
But some kind of woman she is to hold in her arms a whole planet
The least it could do is make itself lighter and easier to manage
But reality is, and she persists, endures and she still stands
At the end of battles and wars, there she is with her heart inside of her hands
As a gift or a prize for only the luckiest man that will ever live
That woman is worth more than what she’s bargained for, so more than that I’d will to give
No gold, no platinum, no diamonds for this price can surmount or suffice
For she is worth my blood, sweat and tears in a glass with crushed ice
With my body served whole like sushi, uncooked in its truth, wrapped on a mound of rice
And my bones as strength to endure hard times, and I’d give all that to her twice
She’s wears priceless beauty like a Lily, appearing delicate and soft
Yet, stronger than her surroundings like an Orchid from the desert in a Paris city loft
She’s rare and well kept although daring and free
Committed to the bone, her roots run deep as an age old tree
She’s young and vibrant as a fire-cracker, yet private like an unsung hero
And even if her alias remained unknown, she’d still be my number after zero.
What a woman. What a beauty. And it’s unjust to see her bare her’s and other’s pain
It encourages me to will to fill that void on her back, and to romance her pretty brain
To enter her soul and exchange for it, mine and show her that I’m her soldier arriving ready
to fight
Through wars and rumors of wars, til death parts us before we meet again in the sky in mid
flight
But you see, if to believe is to have ever lasting life, then even physical death could not out
endure this man’s will to hold the stem of this beautiful Lily of an Orchid
And she’d tower above as God smiles with love as I hold her proud, up right, strong and
confident.
To her I would offer that. To her I would offer me.
But so beautiful she is as a Lily of an Orchid, wild, strong and free.
Form:
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would kiss every inch of the page, to drench it
With my last breathings of doomed love
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would spray each corner with Arabian perfume,
So you will always associate death not with the chilling scents of
Decomposing flesh, or freshly turned soil, but with a heady
Intoxicating fragrance
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would use many inks in rainbow colours, to soothe
The ache of my parting words – to paint a kaleidoscopic picture of
My beautiful misery
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would not waste time listing my miseries,
For they were countless, and too heavy for a sheet of paper
To bear
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would compose it sitting on my bed, my legs a creamy white
Against the starched white sheet, my face lifting now and then
To the window, to distract myself from the solemnity by
Observing my final sunset
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would use the word ‘love’ as often as my heart
Nervously beats, in preparation for the coming stillness
If I were to write a suicide note,
I would remind you that were it not for you I would
Never have lived at all
I would tell you how you lifted my soul,
How you dragged me up from the depths,
The proverbial lotus flower pushing its blooms through
The sucking black mud
I would tell you how you were always with me,
Even when you weren’t – how your memory
Haunted, gently, bitter-sweetly
I would tell you how every time I closed my eyes
I saw your face,
Etched by angel fingers on the thin red easels of my lids
I would tell you how, to me, this feeble dying girl,
You were the most beautiful thing in the world
More beautiful than fresh-blooming roses,
Or a tropical sunset
More sacred than temples or churches
More radiant than the sun,
That blazing god
More poignant than the moon,
In all her melancholy splendor
More overwhelming than my frail heart could bear
If I were to write a suicide note,
It would quickly become a love sonnet,
Devoted wholly to you
And my death would be lost in the subtext...
Like a penny, lost and worthless, woman
mother, and buried within the origin pit, dark
she brought me like a Jezebel into her life of mourning
mistress of the stage and child to horror
born, and off he ran, forced flight my father, loss
the hussy dies but on Edgar lives in awe.
Blood and death and pain feed Poe’s awe.
Why she had done, what soul had she, this woman
leaving him a found fledgling of loss?
“Why, why, bring me into this hellish dark?”
Coal black the pit and pendulum of this zealot father’s horror
the devil’s drink brought penitence and forced, mourning.
“Bastard child!” his stepfather screamed in mourning
as his new Mother looked on in awe.
And, his new brother watched on in horror,
the lash was not spared nor kindness brought by woman.
In the starkness of his mind there was only dark.
Abandoned child, Poe, and his rescuers brought only loss.
“Run, leave, you villains all!” He cried. “There is only loss!”
So on, he wrote into the dark and mourning.
The ink the Prussian blue released the anguish his dark.
Intuition, and superstitious fright will feed him awe.
Cousin, sister, wife, would be his woman
the banshees cry, her bloody death became his horror.
“Alone, alone…” The corbies’s caw brings horror,
but for the devil’s drink, he’s naught but loss........
“Lenore…..” He’ll wall his tainted heart away from woman
and make his blasted soul the start of mourning.
“To hell with you!” He screams at those in awe
of his blank and burned out hulk of dark.
Bricked in or deep within the ripest dark...
“God, so alone……….” He hides in horror,
forlorn, depraved and not at all in awe.
For there is no romance found in loss
no beauteous bounty in the dross of mourning,
no family, friend or wife not tainted, born from woman.
So, Poe lives and dies in awe of the dark.
Where woman’s deepest depths bring only horror
and loss is all he knows in light of mourning.
Just Jesus Christ
Just Jesus Christ saved me, from death took me too his
holy place, his mercy and grace hugged me, into another dimension
next to the holy one. I pray, he tells me he love's me I belive him.
In my Jesus Christ I could rest,
Peace after all I could experience when I worship him.
Something happens you gotta know this my Lord,
Is alive his not death men, I love him so, I say "Then I follow his voice I'm obedient let me be judge, but by my Jesus " because, his fair to his children.
I some times don't understand his plan, but some how always belive his right when everything is going wrong. My sufferment he has observe, carefully his chosen the word's my path is Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ is the path.
His mercy is unique, his name should always be uplifted in any moment, one man in flesh
Came to save the rest.
This tme I take to dedicate this feelings, I need you on this everyday!
Walk my love there's no me, if your not with in, don't let go. Because, I rather die
Jesus Christ, my bautized is coming up Im suprice I made it this far thinking of me and forgot there's an Almighty God 21 year's past, but your name is above all titles or anything, it wont be forgotten or in the past,
Jesus Christ is the name of the savior I'm talking abaut, John 3:16
Tell's a man really in love, not just for me but, for all society in particular.
His own people, didn't accept him, I give him a chance Jesus dosen't fail this he prove's to me all lthe time.
I love you Jesus Christ the last thing I want to do is fail, you because It hurt's inside, you died for me in the cross the only thing I could do Is give my life and, who I was to the only one who truelly cares "Jesus Chris" . I'm done!
by; Crystal Padilla
With belief like religion, pursed lips speak a phrase
with a touch that could hold a cyclone in place
with drama, to consider that the sun shines eternal,
that worlds have no boundaries, and time’s a pest infernal.
A revolution of two martyrs, we could raze the avenue,
exiled to our prison flat to make all the love we wanted to.
Four walls high, that no archer could mount to reach this place
and the realm is ours alone, my Queen of Hearts and Space.
With hair spun of silk and ivory skin, seldom chapped lips of cinnamon
Midas could keep his horde of gold, your touch makes a man of a brute.
Whispered words to haunt my dreams, ever fixed upon you,
my eyes transparent with light reflect the endless blue.
Sickness but a minor detour, health for granted evermore,
Life but a game for two hearts a glow
and Death but a place that we didn’t wish to go.
Solar fragments wrenching open the blinds, my only defense
To protect my unkempt shell, sleepless, devoid of sense.
The walls stripped of color as music stripped of melody
So this must be hell- death would be less of a malady.
Walkways of quicksand tug at my heels-or an older man’s maybe?
And an anvil heart, blacker than coal, is harder than an iron sea.
Five fifty for forgetfulness, a life of grainy videotapes
and two day old Chinese in a box holding the abyss.
Day and night blur in a twisting tempest; everything’s amiss
Every walk is a journey, and every story comes out a rime,
and all is choking, crippled in the sludge of time.
Death is now the savior, may it take me in my sleep,
for in sickness I stay always, in an everlasting weep.
Eyes fogged up like London, cast in shambles- “take a number”-
As our glass silhouettes reflect our hearts torn asunder
Mystified, crucified, Love, why have you forsaken me?
I knew I should have just walked away;
The moment I laid eyes on you I should have...
I don’t know...blocked you out
I should have seen the blaring danger sign above your head,
Should have heard my heart’s agonised screams of longing –
And I should have realised you would be the death of me
But then I guess I’m a bit funny that way;
I always seem to walk straight toward death,
I seem to throw my arms around my own destruction –
And draw it deeper and deeper inside me,
The way I did to you...
Perhaps it’s just masochism, or perhaps I find death enchanting
Well, when death looks like you, who wouldn’t?
You are so beautiful it beggars belief;
It almost hurts my eyes to look at you –
Your radiance dazzles, and causes me to trip and fall
To fall so hard my heart cracks - and bruises like an overripe peach;
And meanwhile you never even stumble
You just breeze effortlessly into my life, into my body,
Into the aching chasm of my heart,
And there you leave your mark, carving it into the living flesh...
Proclaiming me your latest conquest, your latest homicide
Christ you’ve hurt me; Christ you’ve got me good
Clasped so tight in your Judas grip you fill me to the brim with love
And then with brusque indifference you slam the door in my face
And melt into the desert sands with not even a backward glance...
And as for me – like a dumb fool I sit and watch you go
Speechless with suffering, wracked with raping pain
I know there is nothing I can do to stop you
Know it’s my fault you’re gone – if only...
If only I were prettier, funnier, purer...
If only I had never let you in
If only I had listened to my intuition and wistfully walked away....
I could have saved myself from death on that very first black day
Her name is now a legend
Before her name was feared
The lady Henrietta
Lean close and lend an ear
They say her status started
One night long time ago
She found her husband cheating
With the girl she knew next door
Her mind did snap
Her heart grew cold
With a knife she stole their souls
Cut the beating heart away
Ate flesh when cold
Within her veins flowed the blood
Of the one who done her wrong
Gave her everlasting life
Her age in death was old
But one small thing that should be said
About the spell she cast
That beauty would always be her guide
In death she looked her best
Word spread quickly through the town
Where Henrietta lived
About the spell she cast the night
Her husband committed sin
Women came to ask for help
To change their husband’s ways
For they had also messed around
Now love for them had strayed
With each one she gave the spell
Steps to end their grief
Now in the town such beauty found
In women who’s husbands cheat
With new found beauty each started life
Fresh and young again
And if the man they loved did cheat
Revenge was sweet again
Many many years went by
And soon the town was gone
Towards the end all that was left
Were women who were scorned
But in woods outside the town
In a placed called Widow’s Peak
You find plots of all the ones
Whose death came from a cheat
So this story lives today
If you doubt then ask around
For the one you love and share a life
Could be a widow from that town
All men beware all women ask
Before you start your cheating
In every city and every town
A Widow’s Peak is forming
Believe me if you will or not
In the end you’ll heed the warning
Just let the one you love find out
To Widow’s Peak you’re going
Then Thisbe stole forth as agreed upon
Unobserved her head covered with a veil
Out of city’s bounds edifice well known
Waited for Pyramus near a fountain trail.
In the dim light she descried a lioness
Nearing the fountain with blood reeking jaws
With a recent slaughter to slake her thirst.
She fled dropping her veil out of fright.
After quenching thirst turned back for her cove
Renting the veil in bloody mouth on her retreat
But Venus won’t always befriend true love.
Having delayed Pyramus arrived there
Saw footsteps of the lioness in the sand
And found the veil all bloody over there
Crying picked up the rent veil in his hand.
Thought himself to be the cause of her death
Covering the veil with kiss and with tear
And said, come ye lioness tear with your teeth
Let my blood also shall stain your texture.
He plunged sword into his heart with a shove
Blood spurted tinging the tree with red color
But Venus won’t always befriend true love.
Thisbe stepped out not to disappoint him
She noticed the change in the tree’s color
In the agonies of death she saw him.
A shudder ran as ripple in still water.
She saw her veil and his scabbard empty.
He has slain himself for her sake only.
She said, “I could be brave and follow thee
Death alone couldn’t prevent my joining thee
Love and death join us, one tomb be our grove”
She plunged the sword in her breast near the tree
But Venus won’t always befriend true love.
Envoi
Such tale of the self-less love presented
The two bodies in one tomb were buried
Pyramus-Thisbe tale our hearts do move
Berries serve memorials of their blood
But Venus won’t always befriend true love.
===================================
Rhyme scheme : ababccddede Envoi- ddede
Perusing the tomes of esoterica,
One truth I've learnt indeed,
Not one book contains it all.
There's always more to read.
Axiom mixed with allegory,
Abstract salt and misty sulphur.
Is this that famous alchemy?
I'll find the quintessence myself.
I wonder will my pupils burn,
Ere I see the salamander?
Peradventure I'll go blind,
Gazing at the flame.
Kundalini's far too painful,
No snakes I'll squeeze from there!
Keep the stick; I disdain your wand,
And those dowdy robes of rite.
You banish nought excepting creed,
So your mind can play in circles.
Dr Dee, did you notice,
Darkness in reflection?
Enoch's sigils say no more,
Arcane shapes that never shine.
Antiquated and obscure,
The like of which I can't define.
No Angels tap upon my pane,
I think they've lost their wings?
Or John and Eddy were insane,
Who can read their mirror?
I covet a theophany,
To behold an avatar.
But none have manifested yet,
Perhaps they are asleep?
I heard the Masons in cabal,
'Find the tent within thyself.'
Alas their holy pillars crumble,
When their master's meet.
Will I become the charioteer?
And overcome my obstacles.
Maybe the Tower's drawn for me,
'I'll see you at the bottom.'
To then be threshed by death himself,
Though his charger l won't fear.
Nor that upon his hasty heels,
For death is only transition.
A torchless Hermit I'll remain,
Engaged in futile rumination.
The change I will, will not occur,
Therefore the Fool forever I'll be.