[x]

I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."

I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"

so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last

Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams

Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”

You were cold insideYour lips tasted of
summer, of warm days and
cherry-flavoured ice,
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.

You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.

I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
winter.

Poem of the day 145 / Poeme du jour 145Une pluie d’hiver
sur les dunes
scalpées

A winter rain
on the scalped
dunes

Frantz, mai / may 2013

7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you
a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth.
Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet."
You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano,
intense moments involving flesh and razors,
and the occasional walk by the lake.

At first, he knew only the wolf's howl,
purging blood and flames onto the carpets.
Everywhere was a smell of extravagance --
like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work.
But you cried a little less,
smiled a bit more.
And that was when Daddy stopped
trying to send it back to the shelter.

Soon, you even started watching T.V.
(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.)
But T

To Our Princess We Must GoHow dare you take from us our Princess!
How dare you cast away her light!
How dare you seize her from us!
We resist with all our might!
You saw the signs of her sadness!
You saw the signs of her dismay!
You saw the darkness growing!
‘Twas you who had betrayed!
Abduct from us our feathers!
Give us wings of flesh and bone!
Bear a mark upon us
We are loyal to the crescent throne!
Send us all up to her
And as you cast away this third
We will scorn and hate and curse you!
Dismiss us from the herd!
Don’t fret for long, dear Luna
For we are well upon our way!
May our presence to you be comfort
It’s at your side forever shall we sta

She's changedIf you looked at a little girl with big brown eyes and soft hair from the crown of her head
Her dreams would be big and her worries would be simple
And you’d say “She’ll be going places”

If you looked at a young girl with a toothy grin and a giddy laugh
Her pride would be strong and her conscience would be clear
And you’d say “She looks happy”

If you looked at a shy growing girl with her forehead covered and sleeves down to her fingertips
Her eyes would be distracted and her heart would be a drama queen
And you’d say “I don’t know who she is”

If you looked at a maturing girl

VIIEncore un peu de cendre
Au coin de tes lèvres
Parolescentes

J'épluche tes souhaits
Tu laves le ciel
En vain

Et dans ce vent chaud
Des milliers de pétales
De peau

nothing specialthey tell you not to give up
because you have potential--
and to the ones who simply enjoy
you're probably fantastic
but to those who do
you're simply mediocre,
nothing to bat an
eyelash at.

you're not quite bad enough
to quit, but you're not
great enough to be
remembered.

unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.

my fingers ache to
hold you--
but my eyes ache to
cry.

you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
fallen angels.

i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.

Thinking.Thinking without thought,
Not thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what it how it would be,
To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.

Thinking about the passing time,
About the mountains I have not climbed.

Thinking about a world gone by,
And about the big blue sky.

Thinking about love so sweet,
And of life crumbling at my feet.

To think about everything vast as it seems,
Would take as long as counting dreams.

So to think without a thought,
And not to think about a lot.

Would carry on an endless dream,
And let time unravel at it's seams.

SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.
I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.
The cold, grey stone upon my knee,
As I prepare myself for eternity.

I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,
Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.
They want me to do the final deed.
I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.

I look for a while at my full rice bowl,
And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.
What shall I be? A man or god?
Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?

I finish quickly so we don't delay.
By now the light is fading away.
I take up the pen and start to write,
To put brush to paper is one last delight.

"

Petit OiseauDon’t move a muscle
I’m not even drawing in breath
Through my heart
Oh, such a tiny, naïve little thing!
Will she let me approach, if I’m careful enough?

Or will wings divide my intentions
Widening gaps from the soil to the sky
Soil in my hands, and
Purple stars in her breath
I could never hurt you, little pixie
My winged Thumbelina

I don’t move a muscle
I’m focusing on not drawing breath
Lungs contract
She gives me a heartwarming stare
And oh, I am moments away!

But stop! Coarse laughter sings
Dark notes that may injure her
But the dancer still hops, unaware
Of the tears designing my chee

The Boy Who WaitsThe train rolls past the selfish boy,
The boy who stands and waits forever,
The boy who watches the girl fly past,
And wishes she would get off at his stop.

The boy stuck in circles,
The boy who always needs help,
The shy boy with the social prowess of a shattered rock.

He waits and waits,
And every time she flies past,
He hopes and hopes.

She talks to him often,
But sometimes not so much,
He feels like he’s walking straight when she speaks,
Her words make sense to his boggled mind.

The boy at the station,
With eyes wide in anticipation,
The selfish boy who wishes good things to happen,
The boy who takes things for granted,
Who thin

Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone? I'll leave you alone.

You want me to buy you a cake and a knife? Sure I'll do that.

So, what else do you need me to do? OK. That should be easy to do.

Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.

You hate my guts, huh? Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.

You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.

I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.

And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?

You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?

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Waltz of the Night

In the darken hall, in the darked household
Invisible footsteps raise up the dust
'Twixt brooding doors and staring keyholes
Blinded know by years of rust

Thumps and shudders living the Darkness
Sounds that are silent long through the day
Steps on the staircase, listen now, hearken
The sounds of the night call the dead out to play.

White, misty figures emerge from their doorways
Clad in their robes and glimmering shrouds
The shades of friends from bygone days
Ne'er do their feet seem to touch the ground

Phantoms and lanterns dancing, dancing
Candles whirling about what a sight!
Shades here, and shadows, leaping and prancing
Twi

Lament of the Ancients

Here I lie forever,
Still as glass I lay
Escape into the ether
Waiting for the day

When we can stand alone again
'Neath the flaming sky
Our weapons drenched with crimson rain
Defiance brandished high

An age ago my name was spake
Upon the lips of haunted foe
The silence gleaming in my wake
Now I reap what I have sown

My ebon helm a glittering mask
My armor burned with argent runes
Countenance grim for a bloody task
A task that's all I've ever known

My singing swords to cry my wrath
My shining gaze to see afar
My skill to carve a blood drenched path
My soul to give to the Eldar

These blades are ours, they fit our hand
This

Phantom

Let me stay here, where the silent grass sings me a song
Where the solemn clouds cry themselves away
Where I can laugh along with the falling raindrops
Where the moon and I can stare into different worlds together

Let me stay here, where the ancient trees whisper me their secrets
Where the wind brings me news of the far-flung lands
Where I am greeted with the shouts of the merry birds
Where I may speak with the crackling branches as they lie underfoot

Let me stay here, where the ocean beats his fury upon the beach
Where the sand wraps me in her cool embrace
Where the smell of salt caresses me
Where birds of flame take

Truly Real

The press of night against my face
Seductive chill of winter's breath
Pulse pounds fast, a delicious pace
Tonight's a night to dance with Death

With eyes of blood and fangs of steel
How can I be truly real?

Hunger throbs within my veins
Fury beats within by breast
I long to ease the mortal pain
And let my nature do the rest

The ghosts of victims, made to kneel
How can I be truly real?

My hunt extends me past my range
The pure of blood are rare tonight
I take the rival hunter's rage
And slip, thus wounded out of sight

The bruises fade, the gashes heal
How can I be truly real?

No longer do I hunt for food
My enemy is beckoni

Reborn

Falling to the ground
A body wracked with pain
Snow gliding down around
Never rising up again

Sad eyes colored green
The silver sky it bleeds
Pale skin adopts a sheen
Witness to the silent creed

Echoes drift around him
Painful guilts arise
Each seven deadly sin
Before his emerald eyes

There off in the distance
The crush of boot on snow
Perhaps this is assistance
Perhaps he'll never know

In the sanguine pool around him
Intrusion now is made
The figure fades to dim
His eyes begin to fade

The gasp of icy pain
Echoes through his strife
Falling like the rain
Are crimson drops of life

Sharply he inhales
His fangs slide f

The Statement

There is a force in this world that is beyond our control. It works it's way into the hidden recesses of society seeking ends no one can fathom. It is a safety blanket for some, a smothering veil for others. Over the ages those who have be come aware of it have reacted differently. Most fear it, warding their homes and lives against it touch. Others use it to hide their true nature, as though smothering that one undesirable part of themselves will absolve them of their sins. Then there are those like us. We select few who have embraced this force and willingly accept its gifts. We are the ones who roam the night freely. We are the ones who wa

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The Warrior's Curse

by ~faceless117, Apr 21, 2011, 5:19:21 AM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Emerald green and flashing red
The battlefield among the dead
The hated foe so vile indeed
Plentiful as rivenweed
The foolish orks; they should have fled
The battlefield among the dead
For like the wind came Mereton
And crimson did the rivers run
Red pools by glistening rivers fed
The battlefield among the dead
With striking claw and venomous sting
The air itself did seem to sing
As tattered orks fell dry, and bled
On the battlefield among the dead
Screams of anger filled the night
To behold a war is quite a sight
His wings of darkest fury spread
'Cross the battlefield among the dead
Armor bent and broken here
Mereton fought devoid of fear
Not to return, he remained instead
On the battlefield among the dead

The Warrior's Curseby ~faceless117

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Free Verse

Also Entitled: The Battlefield Among the Dead
A poem I did for a buddy's Eldar fanfic. His character's mentor Mereton had fallen as an Exarch of the Striking Scorpion Aspect Path. This was a poem that was spoken at his funeral.
Credit to Zarem for the Pic: [link]

~azrual Jul 27, 2011

i like that poem alot realy good

~faceless117 Jul 29, 2011

Thanks, I try...

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The Warrior's Curse

The Warrior's Curseby ~faceless117

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