SUCCUBUS
Via your heart, I tear through your soul. I feed on your pain to thrive in the cold. The heartfelt and loyal, defied by the bold. I am love's leach, the story untold.
Victim or Predator
Been obviously reading too much crime and thriller books. A look at how it could be from the predator's point of view. Or is he a victim of his own mind? Maybe a bit of both.
On This Day
With trembling hands he opened up The package before him lay Would there be what he longed for most He could but only pray Blue ribbon gently placed aside To be
FELT IT ALL
I wrote this during my dark time, when i lost hope in people
they don't
Two parallel lines never cross Even if you start drawing them at same time A circle is a circle Green leaves are not blue A typewriter with handwriting letters Can be useful Would be nice And easy 9th line of this poem 10th line of this
RESTLESS & LOST
The feeling ..hard to explain I recognise myself only in name the sense of self merely a shell the only feeling - living in hell The light - end of tunnel is barely in sight as sleeplessness reigns yet another night So much to live for but la
~ Standing in the Mud ~
Just a murky day! It's raining again, but I guess that's better then a mud bath ~ A bit under the weather! Better days are coming! Lol
Silenced
Frustration tightens the noose, So I try to let it loose, But who can hear With fingers in their ears? So many times I've tried To make my feelings known, But their mouths open wide And their minds clamp down. They hold on to their views Of
Solitude Consumes Me Again
© Syd bliZZard
Diary of a tormented mind
May 20th - Drifting through a Dante'ian vision of hell just to fetch a loaf of bread Glimpsing the tormented souls of the living who've no idea they are already dead I'd already spoken with the angels while the words of the prophets echoed off t
Waiting for the trumpet call
Sheltering from the sun in the shade of a long forgotten desert tree. The tempestuous mirage before me, an angry ancient sea. I watch as man and beast storm across its waters, leaving ripples in the sand. A lion yawns and pants behind me, a new
no shoulder to cry on
Feeling sad
The Last Dream
Inspired by Anthony Perkins role in "Phaedra".
We The Godforsaken(lament for dark people)
Again, thanks for stopping by. Good day fellow poets and readers. JS
Make You Wonder
Reflections on Memorial Day.....
detonators
On streets they hide unkown they hide they blend and hide They gather and seek Info they seek To rage war and pain In tubes and buses They sit and dwell In discuise with detonaters on hand Boom they send us all to hell
To a Miser
All your life - you've heaped up all your gold; - You think you've got some substance in this world? Though surely - you must know - that its a shame - When history - will soon forget your name. All your hours - you've hard pinched ever
Things we do for love!
Out of the dark side of love comes freedom.
Take control!
Who made them smarter than me? Where we not born equally? How did I become me?, and you become you?, What?, How?, did this become true?, Though its quite funny, I have nothing, and they have the money, Im just glad to see, they live life in ecst
The truth will prevail!
The lies of today will fall on the shoulders of the young tomorrow, look back in sorrow, record for posterity, the truth, the reality of how this came to be and what we saw, and what we see, should never again come to be!
Pink
Meant to be pink, but born blue,who knew?, not me, not even you, and the whole world was green, something you could not let be seen, then the coloures faded as life went on, green turned to grey, blue took a new hue, pink got lost, somewhere in my t
Goodnite!
And all it was, was a kiss goodnite, I'll see you tomorrow, early and bright, and then I awoke, we never spoke, I left you there, sleeping tight, kissed your forehead, I love you I said, called to you later,,, breakfast is made,,, you never replie
Goodnite!
And all it was, was a kiss goodnite, I'll see you tomorrow, early and bright, and then I awoke, we never spoke, I left you there, sleeping tight, kissed your forehead, I love you I said, I will call you later,,,when breakfast is made,,, you never
Really! Really!
I don't exist in your land, you don't exist in mine, today is only passing time, Who you'll be tomorrow and what you will see, is who you really are, and what you really will be.
Wait to see!
I don't have a vision for the future, I don't know where we will end, I'm aware of where we are now, are you a foe or are you a friend? Complications of life are immense, what is lie, what is true, what makes sense? "Fake news" is all that I
Just enjoy the ride!
I have seen tomorrow, I know, how it will go, firstly it ends, all will cease to exist, in the blink of an eye, this world will die, then a new creation, a whole new population, starts anew, from Jurassic world to space exploration, we failed in our
Azimuth
Well, I just scratched my back, and saw the moment.
Happy Dead Soul
There's a little black spot inside of the hole The little black hole that's consumed my soul There's a little black part inside of my heart My little black heart's been torn apart There's a broken place inside of my head Makes me feel alive, mak
So Old Vampire
Tags: acrostic, rhyme scheme, alliteration, taunt, horror, folklore
Die Your Way Industries
Just having some fun with the subject of assisted suicide which I believe is legal in Oregon.
Without You
We all feel the hurt of loss in our lives, I have felt so much within my short life span.
ALONE INSIDE STARE
there is a song by british rockers, the police, called "king of pain." my life has been a series of very tragic experiences, for myself and those i care about. i deal with them ok most of the time. but once in awhile i find myself sitting alone, with my eyes closed, staring.
Bedbugs
Bedbugs when they are engorged on your blood can get to as big as the head on a Lincoln penny. They usually feed at night when you are asleep and crawl back to their hiding spots the rest of the day.
Hopeless Kids
Just going over Dylan Klebold's journal and seeing how dark the thoughts were for him. I think that some people need someone to just say, Hey! It's gets better, hang in there!
Drownin
Whats to tell
On comes the night
On comes the night The darkness moving in This keeper of all my secrets This creator of my sin. On comes the night Forever my silent mate The darkest of dark embrace My one and only fate On comes the night Respise from the glaring light
Predaceous Eyes
Something to share about primitive feelings
Two little lives....
My name is David, That is true, A simple man with manual works, I treat ill people, not the kind you like to meet, I find comfortable surroundings a plus, Where exchange is the past, And sanitised and professional is the future, I say I
The Question
Draw your own conclusions; for me to explain the poem destroys its existence.
The Silence
Having fun with some dark poetry
to the CENTURY's MURDER...
some TIMID ...they cant wait 7 days in SECLUSION
Sonnet #17
In the earlier sonnets, the poet's main concern was to persuade the youth to marry and reproduce his beauty in the creation of a child. That purpose changes here in Sonnet 17, in which the poet fears that his praise will be remembered merely as a "poet's rage" that falsely gave the youth more beauty than the youth actually possessed, thus expressing an insecurity about his poetic creations that began in the preceding sonnet. This disparaging tone concerning the sonnets is most evident in line 3, in which the poet characterizes his poetry as a "tomb." Such death imagery is appropriate given the frequent incorporation of time, death, and decay images throughout the first seventeen sonnets. Ironically, the poet, who has been so concerned about the young man's leaving behind a legacy at death to remind others of his priceless beauty, is now worried about his own future reputation. Will his poems be ridiculed by readers who disbelieve the poet's laudatory praise of the young man's beauty? Not, says the poet, if the youth has a child by which people can then compare the poet's descriptions of the youth's beauty to the beauty of the youth's child — now asking the youth to have a child in order to confirm the poet's worthiness. The sonnet's concluding couplet links s*xual procreation and versification as parallel activities: "But were some child of yours alive that time, / You should live twice — in it and in my rime." The poet's task is an endless struggle against time, whose destructive purpose can only be frustrated by the creation of fresh beauty or art, which holds life suspended.