I'm searching for a poetry that’s a hotbed of immense danger
I'm searching for a poetry that’s a hotbed of immense danger,
A spell that unleashes deep fear into every soul.
I want poetry that shakes the universe of old ideas,
Banned in bookstores, sites, and antique shops.
My poetry should be palpable, like a Glock in the dead of night,
Like a gleaming blade in the darkness, a bat striking mercilessly.
I want verses that don’t just heal but hurt profoundly,
Opening wounds that no one has ever felt before.
In my words will vibrate unseen terror,
Like a storm of arrows piercing the veil of reality.
Each stanza will be a thunderclap in the quiet of noon,
And each rhyme, a lightning bolt burning in deeply buried minds.
My verses will be like an ancient wizard's potion,
Mixing the essences of dreams and nightmares, of hopes and despair.
The reader's soul will shudder at their touch,
And with each line, feel bound to an invisible fate.
I'm looking for poetry that purifies through fire and pain,
That awakens everything buried and forgotten.
It will be a cry in the night, a swan song,
An echo that resounds eternally, endless and frightening.
The blades of my words will cut through the fabric of time,
Like a soul surgeon, revealing unknown wounds.
In a mad waltz, fear will fuse with ecstasy,
And in that experience, the reader will be reborn, frightened and liberated.
Each syllable will be a silver bullet, coming to cleave the darkness,
And each metaphor, a pantomime lock that reveals the truth.
The poet will be the wizard of shadows, invoking hidden forces,
And in those dangerous verses, true magic will be born.
Thus, I want poetry that elevates and topples equally,
That shatters conventions and feeds unrestrained flames.
To be both balm and poison, to be sacred and cursed,
To be poetry that shakes worlds, leaving only the ashes of dreams.
And so, in the dead of night, at the edge of reality,
My poem will take form, a creature of darkness and light.
A call to the souls who dare to feel everything,
In a world where magic and melancholy intertwine eternally.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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