Last Commented Dark Poetry Poems (2,489)

A choice; It all starts with a choice. The country steams toward the precipice and when they, the carnal, the God-less, the ravenous hoard finally release the scream that precedes the fall, they beg to be saved. And "no". there will be no saving grace. You have lit and kicked the very lantern that burns your country, your sovereign nation. An all-consuming cancer that spreads insidiously through what's "the in-thing" and popular and cool. You don't realize the danger, or maybe you just don't care.
The world is a rabid dog and all we do through legislation is "wipe away the drool," to quote a brillian mind. We are not fighting the blemishes. We're picking the zits 'till they bleed and scar over. Leaves an ugly mark, it does. Like so many others.
Marriage. How vintage. It only keeps the bastards in the sack. There is no other purpose. SO says a self-proclaimed "fantastic father". Why call is marriage? Why not a unity?
I am ashamed of my country and all it stands for, the crime within, the lack of a soul. humanity is only a word as the Constitution is only a piece of paper is no one rises up to defend it. Who rose up to remove God or A god from the Constitution and all else? Was it one or many? When did justice become only a word and "civil rights" was a free pass to enjoy any carnal pleasure? Trees and rivers are given "personhood" status. May i marry one? Are animals next? Polygamy? Will that be acceptable? When the disabled are paid pennies on the dollar because they work slower, we slip further down the slope into the volcano. When we forget the mistakes of empires past staring us in the face with their ruinous eyes, we fade, also, like so many fire-burned portraits. We really need to wake up and learn the meaning of morality, ethics and values. Otherwise, we're bound to become like any other animal. Primal, Savage, Inhuman.

Ash and steel, the color of the sky.
The world weeps, for all graves overflow.
But I possess a burning b rand, a divine
Disruption. A Holy Light.
Even so, my legs and broken, my wings torn
From their sockets, my divinity disrupted.
I see where light where there should be none.
Light surrounds that which has true sight.
Her hands wrap around the ragged remains
Of my divinity. The world unfurls in a blaze
Of Heavenly Glory.
Wings pour from my back as water,
My blessings restored.
She guides me through the valley of
The shadow of Death,
For I no longer hold any such reservation.
Y bones vibrate with the songs of legions
Of eternal Transcendence.

The coma of night
When the city twinkles
And all are sleeping,
I walk the streets in silence.

There is a rare sound
Of tires on macadam and then
It is gone.

Only street cleaners, 7/11 clerks and nurses
And others like me,
Only they whisper through human existence
Invisible to the fickle human eye
But like the mouse,
I vanish into a silent and dead
City of night.
The phantom in your midst.

I am falling through a burning sky
With nothing to grab, nothing to see and nothing
To hope for. I don't remember how i got here.
With a sickening wet thud, I strike
The ground and pain rockets up my legs, as a crack like
A gunshot fills the air, and I cry out to no one.
Looking about myself, I realize that
Where I now lay is a grave like so many others.
Embers burn at my feet and infernal range springs
Up to consume me, the screams of the dying fill
The air, but there is no relief for them.
The gall of those brave few courageous
Enough to try to climb from their burning pits
Are shoved back in to burn again by the demon hounds
That tear and chew. Their punishment is eternal.
others are torn asunder by the demons
Angry at those that bear the face of God. For in
The Wastelands, there are no walls, no doors. No mercy.

Within a prison of flesh and bone,
Diamond fears to diamond tears,
Diamond tears to diamond dust.
My face is not my own.
i know not this person who looks
Back at me, this stranger in the glass.
Like ripples on a pond,
Distortions in the glass.
Reflections of misery as it shatters.
My own personal requiem.
Crimson rivers like the howling of the damned.
Obligatory pain from causing pain.
I love what is forbidden.
Goodbye, Great One.
i shall fly with wings of gold.
Clothed in righteousness, I scream
For what is not and never will be mine.
Tis' not cruelty but salvation.
Diamond tears to diamond dust.
My heart weeps for the souls and shades.
Do you see? How can you not?

The door closed with a deafening finality.
A click, a thunk, and i was locked away. Looking around the room, it seemed bigger now that all the furnishings had been removed. The floor was bare, as were the walls and ceiling. Shivering not out of fear, mind you, but out of cold. I could hear the deep thrumming of the frigid air as it pumped into the room, slowly lowering the temperature around me, my emotional and mental self laid bare. More aware now of my nakedness, both physical and figurative, then ever before, i moved my hands to cover myself, but that only took them away from keeping my torso warm, a laughable concept. how could i keep my chest warm with only my arms?
Looking around the room, I noticed the blinds had been removed from the window. The doors to the conjoined closets had also been removed, their open, empty mouths looking at me. They seemed to be more empty than the room i was in. I walked the eight feet to my locked bedroom door, feeling the cold tile floor beneath bare feet like flat, even ice cubes, sucking a little more soul out with every step.
I went to my knees at the space under the door, cold air blasting out with such speed, it seemed it too was as desperate to escape. Then falling to the side, right eye to the metal ridge separating the cold, lifeless tile from the warmer carpet, inches away, i could hear the low murmur of the TV in the other room, mom was watching. The dog shuffled up, sniffed under the door and shuffled away.
As light outside faded, bathing the room in red, then blue, so too did my emotional self, my feeling of love, my hope that I, the "bad" child, the ever-colder prisoner, shameful, the fogotten, would ever truly be a "good" child; someone who would not be a thief warranting isolation and banishment.
I was a pariah. Not a king, not a prince but the man, no, the boy in the iron mask. I was shunned by peers, shamed by blood and loved by my dog. My only friend.
Lying there in the cold dark, listening to the ever-thrumming of the cold machine, i began to daydream, my mind taking me away to enchanted lands where i was loved and not a bad child. Where i did not lay at the crack in a door and whisper into the dark, "why?"

Remember the burning;
The golden sun
Insects that hunger
For the flesh of the young.

Wandering wastelands.
Seeking the wet.
Hiding in shadows
With vultures as pets.

Shimmering visions
Call to your soul.
Stumbling blindly
Into a hole.

Scorpions sleep
In your boots by the door.
The thirst in your brain.
It ignites with a roar.

Crackling tinder;
It starts with your toes.
Nothing but ashes.
Your final death throes.

How can one who cannot control his hunger
Ever hope to find love that, in of itself, is controlled?
Yearned for, it is not love only
But love and an equilibrial
Recalibration of the soul’s gyro.
The millstone of our own desires
Drags us to the bottom of our hungry sea.
The scavenger who hunts,
Food for the eyes,
Msg for the soul.
Always hungry,
Never sated.
My hunger is a might voice.
Bellowing to be fed.
The wolves who rend and tear
My soul, the meat of the sheep.
I am, but I wish to be not.
To be not hungry for anything;
I am a slave to my flesh.
My task-masters,
My bended knee.

Her beautiful face
Passing me on the street.
The image of her embracing me,
Kissing me with passion,
My heart, pain like a knife,
Pull it from my chest.
Like pulled-taffy.
Longer than imagination,
Long without sugar,
Wrapped around
A blackened may-pole.
To wave in the wind
A warning to travelers:
“There are dead inside.”

To Pop Evil’s “Torn to Pieces”

Under a sky of iron, a tide of blood
Laps at my feet, coagulating with tears
My past, the long-dead and nearly
Their faces play before me.

Chains of salt and blood
Wrapped around me binding me
To this beach to the sound of my
Screams and howling weeping
And ever-living misery.
I am enslaved to my own hell.

My twin is all but dead.
My father a branded memory.
I am haunted by memory
By an unceasing pain.
The bones, tears and blood
They lay under the sand
How many do I owe blood to?

I live a suffering that is nocturnal.
It rears its head at night.
It hunts me.
I drink. I inject liquid numb.
I die.
Every day I die.

My pain is my chain.
My friend. My God.
I cry and bleed.
The ever-perpetual wound.

It weeps blood and oil
And tears of the betrayed.

I live for the toxic burn,
The alcoholic oblivion.
My blood a flaming river
Of blackened death.

I know nothing of death.
I know .

My heart quakes,
Every time she touches me.
Every time, I feel the wrench.
Do not lie to me.

Self-infliction is my own.
You shant take the blade to me
Without leaving a grave.
The ultimate journey.

I want to live.
But not like this.
Not living with a hole
Torn into my soul
No one to envelop myself
Into the pink and red
The sear of perpetuity.
01/03/15