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Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

untitledGold abundant at your feet,
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

When... But...When I was younger, we held hands and we had fun,
But now that I'm older, I see you and that's all gone.

When I was younger, I got hurt and you were there,
But now that I'm older, you're not there to pick me up.

When we were younger, we had our fun, we were friends,
When we were younger, I knew you and you knew me,
But now we're older, you're just one of those faces,
And now that we're older, we have drifted apart.

When I was younger, I looked to you and saw it all,
But now that I'm older, I'm just a broken record.

You're such a preety thing, and I'm not your lover,
Please don't forget, I remember those times together...

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Marxist Thinking RevisionRevolution!
The banner for,
The Proletariat of my ambition,

Subjugated,
Beneath the bootheel
Of my Bourgeois apathy.

Salivating with determination,
Fierce, savage, thundering;
Across the steppes of my mind

Waving flags of red
Over trampled, burnt fields
Casualties of revolution

Triumphant shouts
Over the burning white flag
Of status and class

A phoenix dawn
Across an infant state
United from the ashes.

The Bells of St. Paul's RevisionThe mourning bell tolls
Across the bricks and shoals
Of London, old
Past pubs and roads where, many stories told

The city cold and still, left to mourn
A hero, once born
Now laid to rest,
On his nation's request

Range Rovers of black
Shouldering this armored cask
Draped by the Union Jack
To inter this son, named Slack

Below the titanic spire
Before the funeral pyre
From this once great empire,
That has fallen in mire.

The American Dream RevisionHeading full long, across the tarmac expanse
Slender strip of black, strecthing into empty vastness

The start of this journey, across one nation
Searching for its heart, and its soul

Rolling through fields as far as the eye can see, under the gentle breeze
Clothed in green, as the money roll.

Caught by the tumultuous city, gilded in light and sparkling distraction
Founded on broken backs and splintered factions.

Speeding through small towns crammed with charm and the musings of Steinbeck
Left to rot, without gold or lead, upon piles of the long forgotten dead.

Skirting crashing waves of cold, the warm wind blows
Bringing garbage, o

Love Song in Drop D RevisionAn old guitar,
Hanging on the wall,
Collecting dust.
Catching my eye.

Battered body,
Worn neck,
Dull frets.
Paint, far gone from luster.

Walnut stained with oil
From one set
Of unskilled fingers
After another.

This old guitar
Passed from person
To person, but
Without glory or fame.

Handed off for,
The same old reason:
"Out of tune
No matter what I do."

Old strings, pulled through
Reaching out, into stagnant air
Beconing,
As aged fingers of the beggar

The sound hole peering
Pick guard, as a tear
Still, it weeps
Silent, it speaks

I take this old guitar
That has been stoic witness for too long
And left, battered and

Marxist ThinkingRevolution, the policy that is needed
The Proletariat of ambition
under the boot heel
of Bourgeois apathy
A slash and burn,
Scortched earth of Red
A new state
Born of ambition
Working for success.

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Faces

by ~HorrorInNoir, Nov 7, 2011, 10:26:33 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Familiar faces in a crowd
Like wildflowers
In the sea of green fields

Facesby ~HorrorInNoir

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2011-2013 ~HorrorInNoir

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=BottledButterfly Nov 8, 2011 Student Writer

Very beautiful imagery

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~HorrorInNoir Nov 8, 2011 Student Writer

Thanks ^^

Reply

=BottledButterfly Nov 8, 2011 Student Writer

Very welcome ^^

Reply

Mood: Joy

~ScarletNova Nov 7, 2011

That was very short, and i now see flowers with people faces on them... xD

Reply

~HorrorInNoir Nov 7, 2011 Student Writer

Oh come on. It' so simple. It's the joy of seeing people you know in the mass of society. XD

Reply

~ScarletNova Nov 8, 2011

*slams head against desk* Damn! Should have figured that out! xD

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