Trapped within the confines of my mind,
The rest move on as I am left behind.
I fight hard to keep my demons at bay
But in the end I am left to decay.
Explain I must, to be a voice for the voiceless,
Pain I shall endure so our story may be heard with lucidity.
A bard for the deranged I choose to be,
So that my sodality may finally be free from insanity.
But how am I to be the spinner of yarns,
If my subconscious keeps me tightly bound,
My helplessness has no limits,
As I am shoved into the ground.
I finally give in to the dark beckoning of my mind,
Unable to tell you my story, words I cannot find.
Darkness all around, in grief I am drowned
Mind succeeds in keeping me shackled and crowned.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Awareness, Blog, Culture, Depression, Health, Insanity, Language, Life, Literature, MentalHealthAwareness, Poems, Poetry, Psychosis, Sad, Society, Writing
Ripples of color in every hue,
Temptress drags you in with baby blue.
Further and further into her swirl of paint,
Notice how there is no white, gown of the saint.
Shades of red, yellow and green,
Morphing into a tone that can only be a dream.
Constantly enchanted by the rainbows in her possession,
Until she finally bathes you in fiery crimson.
Basic knowledge of swirling dyes is what you lack,
Maybe then you would know that all hues together give black.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Beauty, Blog, Colorful, Colors, Culture, Dark, Death, Emotions, Lady, Literature, Poem, Poetry, Women, Writer, Writing
The flow of words has come to a halt,
Swirl of vocabulary has stopped with a jolt.
No rhyme nor reason to explain why,
The feeling of the poet has left me dry.
Digging for the verbs that might beautifully rhyme,
To create a poem that is utterly sublime.
However the search has been proven a waste,
For the inner sonneteer has left in haste.
And then the idea struck like a flash of light,
To jot down words that could explain my plight.
Write about the unyielding block itself,
And create magic with adjectives that speak for themselves.
Thus this piece of eloquent art was born,
Truth and patience from where it is shorn.
Maybe now the letters will come like a breeze,
Oh who am I kidding ? The life of a poet is never one of ease.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Block, Blog, Break, Dreams, Emotions, Hiatus, Life, Literature, Poem, Poetry, Words, Writer, Writers Block, Writing
Emerald flames rise and consume,
Corpses of the lost shall be exhumed.
Finally everything will be reduced to ash,
And the world will implode in a green flash.
Embers from below constantly grow,
Not a soul can understand how to stop the flow.
Could this heat be not of physical form,
Started from a tormented emotional storm.
Lightning of grief, thunder of sorrow
Rains of sadness fall like theres no tomorrow.
The eternal wildfire will not be expelled,
Until the monster inside is quelled.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Beauty, Blog, Colors, Dark, Embers, Emerald, Emotions, Fire, Flames, Game of Thrones, GoT, Life, Literature, Nature, Poem, Poetry, Writer, Writing
Imprints of the past left behind,
Gears of time in a reverse wind.
Fast forward through all our days,
The morbid feeling of an intoxicating haze.
Always trying to get through life with ease,
Never stop to feel the invigorating breeze.
A moment will come when we will regret not giving,
A piece of advice we can pass only to the living.
Neither desire nor passion to leave a mark,
No fuel to set your life on a glorious spark.
Rotting away in the confines of your mind,
To this world you have no worthy bind.
So what have we left behind but our bones,
Our stories written only in the language of stones.
Lived an incomplete life gathering rust,
In the end we will be nothing but stardust.
Posted in Poems Tagged Adjective, Alter Ego, Art, Beauty, Fulfill, Life, Literature, Poem, Poetry, Rust, Star, Worthy, Writing
Healers of the body, mechanics of the mind,
To the mundane lives of their subjects they bind.
Despite clashing personal interests they toil,
Fires of guilt burn away their mortal coil.
Knowledge though vast not every life can be saved,
Try as they might, to the ground they will be razed.
Even if one survives by a Medics ways
In the end it shall be the Divine who is praised.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Beauty, Blog, Born, Dark, Heal, Health, Literature, Medicine, Poems, Poetry
Crown of moss upon an oaken head,
Streaks of starlight woven in a thread.
Darkness engulfs his city of thieves,
Soon he too shall bear blood red leaves.
Like an age old elm tree, roots he shall sprout,
Turned into a mighty tree preserved even from drought.
The Wooden King shall pay for his ghastly sins,
For in the end Karma always wins.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Beauty, Blog, Dark, Karma, King, Literature, Nature, Nobility, Payback, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Royal, Sins, Thieves, Trapped, Universe, Wood
Whispers in the dark, plagued by ghouls,
Demonic creatures tether his weakened soul.
Strength waning must give in to the night,
Fading away in to the sinful blight.
Resolve once mighty to evade Satan’s calling,
But soon angels shall watch his inevitable falling.
In to the pitch black crevices of hell,
Where the abominations of lore dwell.
Dire circumstances are given the blame,
For his ultimate descent into the flame.
Heated arguments, feign happiness to deceive,
Force him to seek a demons reprieve.
One more glorious spirit condemned to agony,
In the eyes of heaven nothing but blasphemy.
He failed everyone by joining evils incarnation.
Or have we, by pushing him towards unholy immolation.
Posted in Poems Tagged Abstract, Art, Beauty, Birth, Blog, Child, Dark, Demons, Family, Friends, Literature, Parents, Poem, Poetry, Social Suicide, Unholy, Writer, Writing
Panic induced confusion,
Head spinning, life in motion.
Legs moving as fast as possible,
Footsteps approaching, screams inaudible.
Death catches up, bound and gagged,
Stabbed in the heart, away I am dragged.
Hidden away in the bowels of the earth,
Rotting in a closet awaiting rebirth.
Hoping someday for my remains to be discovered,
So finally irrevocable justice may be delivered.
Posted in Poems Tagged Art, Beauty, Beckett, Binge, Birth, Blog, Castle, Chance, Cruel, Culture, Dark, Death, Demons, Depressing, Emotions, Literature, Murder, Nature, Poem, Poetry, Stalker, Tv Show, Watching
The dreaded day is nearing of a fiery hail,
When man shall bow with tucked tail.
To the one they so wrongly smeared,
To the one they should have strongly feared.
Waves of heat shall fall as he bestows his wrath,
In payment for all we have destroyed on our path
The path of glory, wealth and growth,
Soon terror shall the heavens bring forth.
Pandemonium in the form of unholy kings,
And death in the shape of opalescent wings.
Faith in a higher power we must form,
To evade our Creators mighty storm.
But what happens when we refuse to believe,
In angels and demons like those we call naive.
Will we too then be resigned to a life of scorching penance ?
Or granted forgiveness in the name of ignorance.
Posted in Poems Tagged Apocalypse, Art, Beauty, Blog, Death, Devotion, Faith, God, Nature, Poem, Poetry, Religion, Terror, Writer, Writing