Tag Archives: ashes

Gemstones and Constellations

You tried to kiss me through the window
I tried to settle for the taste of touching glass

Over the sound of answering machines
Because I love the way your voice
It says it’s gonna get back to me someday…

~*~

Remember the morning that wept cold stars like winter rain

Diamonds unraveling as they danced against the faded windows

As the pale pink light beneath the horizon left taciturn stains

On the browns and greys of onlooker eyes, barely open with sorrow

Painting a polychrome noir by the griefstricken brush of a god

Seeking those wandering souls that have strayed too far to go back

Piercing glass concealed fallen ashes that traced the broken blood

Like bitter scepticism left locked under closet doors so it won’t distract

Remember the morning that drained nights of their dissonant reverie

As for saving the stars that fell that evening…only a fated few were so lucky.

~*~

And this is gonna be the best day of my life
A celebration of an ending, come on…

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The Division

Let me count the ways you kill me;

1.) You carved promises at the notches of my brittle bones, mercilessly enthralling and hypnotising me under the anaesthetic assurance that everything was fine, that I was fine, and that I wouldn’t ever have to destroy myself again; but all the while, you crushed the very foundations beneath my suspended feet and made heaven shatter all around me like an ethereal motion sickness. And as if that wasn’t enough, you set everything on fire and watched this wretched phoenix turn to listless ashes, never to rise again; a demented conflagration.

2.) You promised me for better or for worse, but as I tried to find new names for the shade of red in my lips, you forgot about the obscene sickness that’s violently heaving inside my compromised chest and without so much as a twinge of second chances or point-blank hesitation, you injected every indistinct symptom known and unknown to man, turning my shaky breaths to crystalline lilacs and my selfish ribs to impure glass. I asked for a cure, and instead I received a despicable panacea, a myriad riot of plagues that irreparably devastated my system, ripping me to irreversible shreds. “You can’t get hurt if all you feel is hurt, right?”

3.) I’ve got hands like houses, and you rejected my severed hospitality as you broke down every locked door and deceptive boundary like it was nothing; like I was nothing. I constantly find myself lost in complicated syncopes, as I’m trapped spiraling and crawling back to the same self-sustaining cycles of parabolic grief and hypertensive schizophrenia, predicting premonitions that never came true. This eternal winter freezing over my bloodline is stitched together by a million blizzards and snowstorms conspiring exquisitely at once, but this difficult tantrum of a weather is not a tribulation to you, is it? Your cold temper is intolerable, a thousand suns melding together and detonating convulsively in the empty vacuum of space, and there’s no one else around to hear me scream one last time. I wanted to burn. You took it too far.

4.) Were you even sorry? Did you even feel a single taste of contrition when you watched my starving, pathetic soul grapple for life at the very nave of that decimated altar, asking for the silhouetted universe to fall on my back so that it wouldn’t be my fault, nor yours, that everything got screwed over? Did you see what I’ve done, just so I wouldn’t be what you’ve become? I couldn’t find my way back on the ground, so I swallowed my pride like pried coffin nails for the sake of a more poignant memory to remember; retribution heals what time cannot. Yet now I close my reckless eyes and softly coalesce in sadistic plumes of the miserable discourse you call an intravenous love, and I beg, and I beg. Were you even sorry at all?

5.) You are me, and I am you. I have no one. You are no one. When you lived, I died; and when you died, I along with you. I called it genocide. They called it desperation. For I am me, and you are you. There was no one else. They called it suicide. I call it salvation.

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Arsonist

It feels like there’s a raging fire within my chest—

And I want it to burn everything inside and out

.

My lungs, my heart, my throat; I want it to replace my breathing,

Escape the confines of my ribcage and devour my skin whole

.

Swallow my reckless body as if I was nothing, and spit it out in faded ashes

And finally burn out like a last word at the tip of my nonexistent tongue.

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Vega

I cried and listened to the rain in a rental car
One day somebody’s gonna go and get pushed too far
But now I don’t know what to say
Shall I deny my lungs their breathing rights?

~*~

it’s him—and the sunset

is as dusky as eclipsed eyes

overturning ocean waves

and my mouth will never recover.

a phantom in restless dreams

of a spellwork that went wrong

an escape from locked hospital wings

and a drink of cold sobriety.

oh, what a shame—i have none

and he has plenty to share

for his soul is a catacomb of

broken bones and thoughts that never

should have come to life

in the first place.

look how these lost hands adore

and spectacled visions strain

to read between all your blurry lines,

watching the once-fiery struggle

turn to death’s pugilistic ashes.

and buried underneath the detritus;

beyond the vaguer outlines of casualties

and heroes waiting for an answer,

lay a falling sunset—it’s him.

~*~

So give it up, give it up
Don’t let your mind slip away
Don’t drink, don’t get so high
Your beat’s too obvious
Not gonna say what you want me to say
I guess you’re right…

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six days of a kingdom’s downfall; excluding the sabbatical

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Calvary choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can’t explain
I know Saint Peter won’t call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world…

~*~

i.

a carnation affectation

a wilted dahlia efflorescent

in the temple about to fall—

ii.

redemption in the fray

a sovereign right surrendered

a prayer lost to the demons.

iii.

who would i be if i failed

these chevalier discrepancies

and gave to defeat my all?

iv.

‘tis nothing but a feint allusion

a fiery sleight of hand with which

even archangels cannot summon…

v.

night cries; a knight is interred,

remains scattered to eventide mourn

and ashes buried under dungeons.

vi.

baleful messengers cease to return

as the crown is abandoned in rusted thrones

towers and castles—and a legacy long gone.

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Come, Morning Light

The fire that left your blanket in ashes

Won’t trouble your cold heart anymore

And the angels that carried your parents

Will not return to take your heart to soar

.

As your little grey ragdoll sits by the ruins

Of the playground you once called “home”

And the shadows that used to play with you

Have disappeared, and now you feel so alone

.

Your tears have mixed with the relentless rain

That put out the wild flames alighting the city

Blossoms wilt and thorns flourish in the grass

The bloodred sunset is more scary than pretty

.

Your brother and sister went off with toy guns

And never returned even after they all promised

So now you sit by the orphanage’s cellar stairs

With others who lost their mummies and daddies

.

Are you alone in this world of detritus and rust?

Every light is killed with a dropping bomb again

Death is your lullaby, quiet music behind the dust

Faithless, will there be someone to save you then?

.

But no, don’t you cry now behind that gas mask

I’ll keep you safe from all the questions unasked

I’ll sing you a song, as this sky falls in fragments

Shield you with my wounded arms from the glass

.

Please don’t fear, you will never have to be hungry

You might dream of hell but heaven is yours to see

Asphalt grey and storms of gloom, as wind billows

Muffle every disaster, sleep soundly in your pillow

.

The war was never meant to be fought by innocence

Just machines to tear apart and men with losing sense

To your damaged soul, fettered with doubts and fears

No one will hurt you now…you’ll be alright, I promise

.

Someday the battle will end, and hope shall soon arrive

We can’t take back what’s lost, but we can change our lives

Open your eyes when the sun returns to shade the dawn

To see the rising daybreak where all your nightmares are gone.

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Qualms of the Divine

You took my hand and then we both started running
Both started running, there’s no place to go
Another bullet and we both started running
Both started running too; save yourself, don’t ever look back
Nowhere to go and so we both spin around in circles…

~*~

The returning memories, they hurt me

Again I’m left feeling like a total wreck

I never thought that I would ever miss

Every other reason I didn’t even expect

.

My life was a joke, but you have turned it into art

There was nothing keeping me from falling apart

But the rains withdrew to show a different painting

Of serotonin and gaslight, lighting up a cold ending

.

This is all yours to promise, and all yours to take back

My poems have turned to cinders, the ashes sift to black

But be the lapse in my rationality, be the lacuna I ache for

These memories, they haunt me, but saturate me with colour.

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An Omitted Verse In The Hallowed Scripture

Standing in the shade of altruism, answering the call
Came a modern messiah to save us all
Something far beyond a work of fiction, positronic brain
A world that’s void of all the anguish and suffering, pain
Better tame your convictions before you go and open the cage…

~*~

They implore and beg, don’t sabotage

The remains of another obsolete adage

Waiting solemn for the raptured corpses

To be assembled, attempted, reattached

But the nightmare deceived in penance

Praying covet as pharisees emblazoned

Gods in faux gold, built another temple

Forfeiting all the impure jezebels stoned

And their towers and citadels crumbled

Under a quelled weight of Samson’s sins

Killing a million innocent for the penalty

Of what one iniquitous man wrongly did

The holy writ mutated and twisted again

As a biblical rain unrelentingly poured in

Leprosy-sore mouths of those calling for

A prophetical saviour which never arrived

The testaments old and new burned in ashes

Back to dust, where man belongs and returns

And as the serpent’s fruit was once again bitten

Divine paradise opened up to show promised horror all along.

~*~

We’re creating God, master of our designs
We’re creating God, unsure of what we’ll find
We’re creating God, in search of the divine
We’re creating God, committing suicide…

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Liplock Torture; Suffering Greys

And I can’t tell if this is all a dream or if I’m really here
But as long as I can feel you, I don’t really care, I don’t really care
Can we pretend like it’s just you and me?
I wanna act like I can feel something
And you don’t have to give it back to me…

~*~

do you feel me

breathing in your sins

and suffocating in third degree as

you mercilessly watch me die?

.

i wouldn’t care but

a single rejection would be nice

.

any reaction, even if

you laugh at my suffering

it doesn’t have to be an outcry of protest

because i know it never works like

that, you’re not a dreamer

.

i’m losing the feeling

in my fingers, but still, you won’t

hold them and pull me back

.

i’m dangling like

the burning cigarette between your lips

and sooner or later i will be

falling like the ashes

.

i could swallow

a million razors right now, and

still, you’d act as if it was simply sweet

.

i didn’t know what to expect

i can’t fathom why i even expected anything

you’ll always get the best of my worst

blue oceans pulling me into pacific

shooting my veins under a loaded gun

leaving my eyes with a vacancy

.

i could hope for a million years until it kills me

and even then, you wouldn’t cry.

~*~

‘Cause I can’t promise much of anything
I see in shades of grey, I’m going blind again
But when it comes to you, my world is red
I see in shades of grey, losing my mind again
‘Cause when it comes to you my world is deep red…

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see no evil, fear no evil

i counted seventeen vultures

circling above to rend my spoiled flesh apart

and feed me to their starving children

.

i thought i saw a raven

mocking my unfortunate fate

perched solemnly on a chiseled granite bust

weeping with plutonian pondering

.

as the foolish crows

sang me a heartless elegy

the epistles crumbled to ashes in my palms

and my fountain pen dried out

into blotted shadows

.

if only heaven were to open up

and save me from the ominous darkness

but there’s no room for another soul

to save; no vacancy to give

.

so i huddle beneath the branches

of the dying willow tree

and waited for them to take me alive.

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