Un Amour de suicide
The swirling seas rumble uneasily, the clouds dark and brooding.
Sea birds flying here and there, the wind harsh beyond soothing.
Grey waters filled with power crashing upon the shore.
The lone figure, a stark contrast in the rain that pours.
Salted tears mingle among the torrential rain.
As he stares past the withering horizon, lost to his pain.
A silent sigh passes between the frowning lips.
The undulating waters toss and turn two mighty ships.
One is lost to go below the murky depths.
When he looks remorselessly, on abated breath.
The fate of the other is beyond his care.
So transfixed is he, as he continues to stare.
Past the horizon, beyond the clouds of grey.
Of a time that passed, when love was the day.
And accepting his fate for that one no more
That life is a memory of what was, before.
Lost, lost, the man is forever told.
As the wind changes, and he feels the cold.
Though it does not bite nor sting his form.
An odd and eerie feeling, no not the norm.
But lost to its touch, he is warmed beyond reason.
As the waves crash, in this stormy wintery season.
It takes on a life, forming before his eye.
Translucent at first, then a shape appears by and by.
Is this a dream I see before me?
An apparition, a vision, a woman I see?
Her hair flows in the wind, her eyes a sky blue.
No cloth covered her, no shame nor prudence too.
She smiles to see him there, beckoning, silently calling.
But beyond the cliff’s edge floated she, and he had no fear of falling.
He took a step, a little at a time. A hand towards he.
His heart grew with joy, as he moved closer to the fair lady she.
The fear gone, replaced with love above counting.
The wind howled, the storm grew and the seas mounting.
And when he cleared the cliff, to be near his lady.
Slow as time, his body floated down without saving.
He showed no horror at his errant mistake.
For the lady fair smiled lovingly at his crushed body in state.
And so tender is the moment as it springs its trap.
Engulfed within its surreal memory of yesterday.
Lost to the gossamer sheets of faded tomorrow.
I am he, that was, and is now a mote.
The mote long in the night of redundancy that speaks volumes,
As the blade of grass sways to a windless breeze.
Had I had that drink that beguiles the mind?
The dust that swirls over the hope of lies that
Stabs from somewhen?
The work is in the song that pricks the heart to bleed
Gushing from the fountain that overflows onto the crooked
Street of pain and wayward thoughts.
I asked that my eyes open to the door that leads away from nowhere.
So say he that the tongue trips up and over itself as to what becomes
Of the man that reads of the flower that withers and dies.
I want what I can’t earn. I earn what I can’t buy when truth is
Blackened by the smouldering sun.
I am he, that was, and is now a mote.
Hope? Baseless, useless, unwanted.
Love? Painful, dreadful, regretful.
To drink what is mine.
Is to drink what is thine.
Laced. Tinted. Pontent. Poisoned.
Open yourself to me.
And I’ll plant the seeds of doubt and angst.
Disgust? Maybe.
Hateful? Surely.
Loneliness is the desert bereft of life and sustenance we tread.
Happiness is the virginal land verdant and green.
Give to me the desert and I will love you to death.
Offer me the land and I will cut the hand that feeds.
Open yourself to me.
And I’ll plant the seeds of doubt and angst.
Originally posted by Fëanor
Hope? Baseless, useless, unwanted.
Love? Painful, dreadful, regretful.
To drink what is mine.
Is to drink what is thine.
Laced. Tinted. Pontent. Poisoned.
Open yourself to me.
And I’ll plant the seeds of doubt and angst.
Disgust? Maybe.
Hateful? Surely.
Loneliness is the desert bereft of life and sustenance we tread.
Happiness is the virginal land verdant and green.
Give to me the desert and I will love you to death.
Offer me the land and I will cut the hand that feeds.
Open yourself to me.
And I’ll plant the seeds of doubt and angst.
touched
Said she, Said she...
Loneliness is such a salacious conundrum.
The physical reality spreading like cancer to some.
Listen and you will hear the despondent melody play.
A choral crescendo of woe and dismay.
Not one desires to seek it.
Yet the hapless soul will eventually meet it.
A fear strengthened by awe.
As love is devoured upon the gaping jaw.
That willingly searches the weak and the timid.
Though they cower behind the skirt unbiddened.
Have I your attention?
No? Oh wait, did I also mention.
To be alone is worthy of a withering rose.
The faded bloom of l’amour grows.
As time wends it way down the throat filled with bile.
The stench and taste screaming all the while.
O’ Lord! Please help me to dissuade.
You cry out, playing the charade.
Alone I was born into the world. Alone shall I die too.
And what, pray tell will love do?
But cause me pain and everlasting sorrow.
When I spit on yesterday and pine for tomorrow.
The knife’s edge is sharp but the tip is dull.
Plunge it deep and let it drink its full.
As the throbbing organ bleeds wasting away.
Slowly dying, weakening its course along the way.
And to the hand that fed that dulled knife.
Laughingly smiles, the blank eyes staring at my strife.
And all the while as the sweet, red lips purse.
To mutter a proclamation, a tainted curse.
As the hair is thrown back with little ado.
For this oh sweet, I’ve pledged my love to you….said she, said she.
A love song's influence
Tomorrow is yesterday’s dream.
That will fill the cup of ignorance’s sheen.
As the field festers under the moon.
Flaccid and fluid in it’s wake.
Shafts of amber-glow light spread wide.
Illumined and opened for none to hide.
And the world sleeps in gloom.
What then does the hand take?
The jeweled rock, lost to its luster?
Gleaming works of metal that we muster?
Surreal dreams are entombed.
When the mind tricked, the heart aches.
Originally posted by Fëanor
[b]A love song's influenceTomorrow is yesterday’s dream.
That will fill the cup of ignorance’s sheen.
As the field festers under the moon.
Flaccid and fluid in it’s wake.
Shafts of amber-glow light spread wide.
Illumined and opened for none to hide.
And the world sleeps in gloom.
What then does the hand take?
The jeweled rock, lost to its luster?
Gleaming works of metal that we muster?
Surreal dreams are entombed.
When the mind tricked, the heart aches. [/B]
Nice. 👆
sum stupid sh!t, but hey!
Woe begat! Woe begone! Whoah, is shat?
So said the learn’d one to the fool: “Dude yo fat!”
“Fat you say, and so I am, but then so are you.”
“Your heads too large, your eyes too small, and look, where is thy shoe?”
They bicker and snicker to one and to each at what they lacked.
The fool o’ wise or wise o’not, the wise a snob, the monkey on his back.
please don't ask....
Just another pretty little love poem.
Sung to those them for you and me.
Oh please not another love poem.
Had we enough to last all of eternity?
Come on I ask for one little love poem.
Gawd! Lord above no more of dem, please just for me.
One, little love poem?
Not even if you sing chimchimcheree.
How bad is one lil’ love poem?
As bad as spaghetti with ketchup, mmm, yes, quite tasty?
Half of a love poem?
Fine! Strike me now, kill me please
even more weird nonsense...
Yon! Yon! Yonder I ponder.
A gobbledygook of wonder.
She to me was I too late?
A pact made, a twist of fate.
The heart has spoken.
The truth betoken.
Gathered I the fruits.
And yet so, none with my boot.
To filleth my cup.
Overfilled with such.
Of meandering words.
But none you’ve heard.
I the clever man.
Must now face the hand.
Bereft of a member to play.
So sadly sigh, I, forgetting this day.
Yon! Yon! Yonder I ponder.
A gobbledygook of wonder.
She to me was I too late?
A pact made, a twist of fate.
okay...i dunno really
Sing! Sing! O’ muse a song of sadness.
And I will cry aloud to you….my badness.
As the lark that sparks the unintentional madness.
What fate doth bringeth forth my fastness
When songs of yore, does naught but bore the rash-ness?
My goal then is to bring it in, for the win. HA! My ass-ness.
So sing and sing some more you dirty rotten little…!
And never say, and never say: nevermore!