Ink Dragon

There are elves with magic horses and witches fighting vampires. Confused teens trying to figure life out and crazy killers arguing with themselves about right and wrong. Every day I live in here. Every day I escape to this. Create and mold, shape and hold. I love them and they love me. They are me and I am them. They are words, wondrous and magical words. On second thought, they are not really words, they are ink dragons. And they fly around my room at night, my dreams giving them flight.

Hard and Fast

Hard and fast I fell
Like many times before
What makes this different
I ask myself
Than any time that past

It is the way I know not you
Nor the shield erected with careful precision
For years of hatred and pain
Shut up in a world so dark and cold
I long to see underneath it all
To poke and prod and have reaction
My touch does not reach beyond the shell
Please let my heat melt the ice

You have so long called it home
I need to see inside so much
Need to see the real you
But behind your walls you stay so still
With not so much as a whisper
Those tears of yours just freeze in place
To haunt you ever more
In silent dreams you waste

My love please let me in
Ask me naught, just please open
I need to feel that warmth
I know is down there, deep
For I grow colder still
Without your loving touch
Not only yourself do you wither down to naught
But I too shall follow suit

To live a life with out love
Because love has betrayed your heart time again
Is to live a life in silent tears
And resent loving sobs

Are We On The Same Page?

I find it funny how one person can give me so much joy
And that same person can turn my world upside-down
I find it peculiar how one person can save me from myself
And that same person hurts me without a second thought

I find it odd how a bond can be made stronger than blood
And yet it can be ignored as easily as water
Do you?

One for the Money

I am sitting here contemplating the meaning of life
I am disabled from the three ton weight on my shoulders
I can’t even stand up straight any more
One for all the misdeeds of the past
One fore the present
One for the future
I have no life in me any more
I can’t see me in the mirror
I can only see the molds
One for what I should be
One for what I should become
One for who I should talk to
I can’t read anymore
I can’t write anymore
I am forever stuck in the monotonies of my life
One for the closed door
One for the window
One for the locked closet
I am forcing every thing
I have nothing real anymore
I am cursing the blinking curser
One blink for reminder
One blink for urging
One blink for mockery
I am fearful of what can not be feared
I am falling off a three feet cliff
I hit the bottom over and over
One time for messing up
One time for an inevitable mess up
One time for the hell of it
I am punishable by death
I wish I did something wrong
I have nothing on the surfaces
One for cover up
One for protection
One so no one ever knows
I need a knife to cut this
I need to get away
I need to break down the walls
One in front stopping me from advancing
One to the right preventing a duck around
One to the left as a last resort
I turn around and go back
I relive the death and pain
I go all the way back to all my pasts
One for the suicide
One for the tears
One for the trauma

Right, Wrong, and Death

It was said, a long time ago, that perfection is not possible, that only one who can be serene with himself as he was born is perfect and that said perfection is only obtained in the mind of a man, not the form, thoughts, or actions. Yet society strived to be perfect and wanted every one to follow. Models were tall, sculpted, beautiful in every way imaginable, and became the role models of the world’s youth. Intelligence over stupidity, beauty over ugliness, height over stunted growth. These are what the leaders, the owners, the thinkers, the role models, all wanted and there for what every one else wanted. Perfect. It is only natural to want beauty, brains, and kindness in a mate and there for this is what is socially acceptable. After the out-lawing of same sex relations one who doesn’t follow the unwritten code of what is and what isn’t Socially Acceptable is instantly ostracized and casted out of said society. This is what the world has come to. This is the world that our fathers’ fought, died, and worked hard to make for us. This is the world that I live in.
But how, you ask, can one such as yourself feel this way? How can a truly perfect being feel that it is wrong to love and even worship perfect people? Because I, unlike you and your damned “Society”, am human. I feel things. I think things. And I do not follow any one that I am morally opposed to. Now you ask how can a killer, a being that was made for the destruction of other human beings, have things such as morals. This is how; we will all die. Weather it be today, tomorrow, next week, in fifty years or a hundred makes no difference. What you do on your last day on this retched earth does not make you who you are. It is what you have done in the past that matters. If you were ever asked “What will you do on your last day on Earth?” you should be able to respond “Nothing different than what I have done for the past twenty”. What you do is who you are and one damn day can’t, won’t, and never will change that. So, yes I am a killer, yes I have morals, yes I believe in right and wrong. But it is I who makes these morals, not society. It is I who decides what is right and wrong for myself. To decide for any one else would be a mental dictatorship and that is wrong, in my opinion.

Piano Man

Ivory on ivory, her slender fingers moved smoothly across the glistening keys of the piano. The composition was that of her own and it was for me, I knew that from the passion that she was playing with, but it was…well, it was sad, to say the least. Deep, depressing, hitting my soul like it were a bass drum and the music the padded mallet (though I still wonder how padded that mallet was this particular instance). I could not deny the beauty of it, for it was just that, but I could also not deny the emotion that it awakened in me like nothing else I had ever experienced. It may have been for me but it was by no means about me or our relationship in any way what so ever. Be that as it may, she kept playing as if it was, as if the piece that she had written was in fact a narrative of us, for nothing other the topic of our relationship had ever ignited a passion such as what I witnessed that day.
She ended it with a rather dramatic low key that hung in the air for several long moments while she sat, eyes closed and fingers poised as if she was not done. But then she set those delicate hands on her knees and hung her head, the effort it took to play like what she had just done too much for her already weakened soul. I went to her then, as quickly as I could I went to her side and lent her my shoulder to weep on, for I could do naught else to comfort the only being that has ever touched my heart the way that the late Christian had touched hers. Maybe I was wrong, maybe the piece was written for me after all but about him. Yes, that makes much more sense. How silly of me to think that she actually cared about me the way that she had done so towards him. He was, after all, her first true love, and I know as well as the next man that those are the hardest to forget, if indeed you ever do. I could never forget her the way that I am asking her to forget him. How damned selfish of me to think in such a way.

NOTICE

Ok, here's the deal; I have these really desrciptive shorty blups that I want some feedback on so this is no longer a poetry only blog. Hope you all enjoy these and for any one who is angry with me for giving into temptation and putting non-poetry on my blog, these do sort of have a poetry-ish vibe to them so deal with it.

Catalyst Of Night

Catalytic behaviors consume
Can’t stop the need to change
Can’t fight the urge to stir
Must have something to do with the child hood
Must have something to do with the burns
Burns of an unforgotten past
Burns of a destructive future
Burns of an abusive present
And burns of my own hand in fate

Stuck

I am a dreamless dreamer without a bed

Non Existent

Stone silence
Is all I ask for
A silent serenity
Of pure black
Oily in its consistency
Never ending
And never fading
Off into the retched gray
That seems to consume my life

I long for
A tragic ending
Of lost love
And dramatic death
That I may burry myself in
For ever and ever
Never to resurface
Never to darken the world
With my presence again

I await the end of time
Like an inevitable sunset
When all thoughts rest on one
And all eyes watch each other
A time of no time
Where this darkness presides
And I may find myself truly alone
In my fantasy
Where time is irrelevant

I am patiently impatient
Longing for what I may never have
And awaiting a time that may never come
In my cave of existence
I sit alone
Watching, waiting, listening
For a sign that may never come
A sign I know deep down
Never will

Reminders

Sweet beauty
So soft and innocent
Please remind me
What it’s like
To be loved once more

Beautiful child
So free and careless
Please remind me
What it’s like
To be a child once more

Gentle angel
So sharp and deadly
Please remind me
What it’s like
To be that way once more

Oh harsh lover
Unfulfilled and willing
Please remind me
What it’s like
To be cared for once more

An ode to death
So dark and sinful
Please remind me
What it’s like
To live without hope once more

Reminders
So blunt and harsh
Please don’t let me forget
Who I am
And where I’ve been

Seductive Destruction

Sweet Kindling
Please take this pain
I can not bear its wrath
And I have no protection
From its harsh accusations

Soft Razor
Please give me direction
I am lost within this mess
With no where to go
And no map to guide me

Smooth Stoli
Please numb the pain
To a point beyond repair
I can’t take its incessant battering
Upon my already cracked skull

Supple Liquid
Please take my breath
It burns me inside
And I have no means
Of putting out the fire

Seductive Death
Please take me away
To a place beyond their reach
Where no one can find me
And solitude is my only enemy

Scarred For Life

A scarlet tragedy
Unforeseen
And unwelcome
Trampling on what once was
A perfect life

A scarlet tragedy
Blinded by its attempts
To ruin a childhood
Untouched by future events
And unknowing of its effect

A scarlet tragedy
Cutting the flesh
That once was flawless
In its beauty
Is now scarred for life

Complications

A clinging veil
That sticks to all
Too many funerals
To count them all
Too many funerals
To remember them all
Can’t escape the ever changing world
Wish things were as they once were
With the things that complicate life
Seen through a child's eye
Unmasking all that lies
Unmasking all that's unsure
Wish it were like that again
With the little things giving us pleasure
No war, sex, or drugs
To complicate this already complicated life
This already complicated world
There’s no time
To cry over yesterday
No time to cry about tomorrow
No time to fret about today
Tell myself this
Every single day
Yet somehow I can's stop thinking
What if?
What if there was no war
And all we ever knew was peace
What if there were no drugs
And all we ever needed was life to be happy
What if we needed no one other than our selves?
To sustain our happiness
Because all that other people ever bring us
Is complications

Second Chapter

No hope left
In the heart of a hero
No hope left
In the heart of those needing a heroin
And without the hope
There is no chance
Of ever escaping
The binding chains

First Chapter

Peace has disappeared
Overtaken by hatred
The government corrupted
By an unknown evil
Death is all around
Enveloping the one last hope
Pulling her to her knees
Against her will
She falls down
Chained to the floor
At the hands of a leader
Of the rebellion

Broken

Broken glass on a broken floor
With broken windows and an uneven score
Broken doors on a broken frame
With broken hinges and unforgiving pain
Broken locks on a broken safe
With broken jewels not worth the wait
Broken bones to broken bodies
With a broken soul and unfulfilled bounties

Irking Itches

Lately I’ve found
Myself silently screaming
Only to wish it was out loud
So I can drown out the lies
Hoping to find some sort of truth

Like having an itch
You can’t scratch
And every moment you spend
Thinking of how it irks you so
Is another moment that the pain grows
But not just the pain
Oh no, the urge to scratch

A vicious cycle
You only beat
By confiding your most
Inner thoughts
But you’re screaming
Too loud for any one to hear.

Story Of A Girl

There once was a girl
Who had fire red hair
And will of iron and stone
Who went out looking
For the one thing she couldn’t find

She searched in the houses
Of the ones she used to know
The ones who she once conversed with
The ones who once accepted her

And she looked in the basements
Of which she was confined
Of which she was cast off to
Where few knew her name

And she looked in the attics
Where all who were once great
Were now forgotten
And cast off as she once had

And she searched for this thing
In every nook and every cranny
In the cobwebs and the dust
Of forgotten books

And she looked for this thing
In the ripped and torn pages
In the numerous volumes and editions
Of these forgotten tales

She came across a story
That caught her eye instantly
A tale of love and devotion
A tale of truth and pride

And it was in these pages that she found
The thing she had been searching for
The thing that had been eluding her
And she smiled to herself

For this story was one of a fairy tale
A fictitious tale
Of things non existent
Of things one can only dream of

And it was in these pages that she found it;
The answer to life and every thing in it
The answer to all her questions
The thing she had been searching for

There once was a girl with fire red hair
Who spent her whole life searching
For the one thing she couldn’t find
The one thing that was actually in her grasp

Looking Through The Glass

To see the world

Cracked and broken

To see through

THe fiery veil

Is to the see the world

Unknown and lost

To see the world

How it was meant to be