[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

XXXXXEven now,
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.

Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.

Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.

It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Chasing Butterflies

I believe in starry nights writing timeless songs
of all the yesterdays and tomorrows yet to come.

I believe in hearing the voice of love in rhyme;
I heard it as a child in my mother's lullabies.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

I believe in playing, absorbing life's full sun,
dancing through the day until the night is done.

I believe in wishing wells never running dry,
granting us the time for a tender, slow goodbye.

Let's go down to the river now
and chase the butterflies.

Should I cross to the other side,
don't you worry; don't you cry.

There you'll see where tomorrow I'll be,
forever chasing butterflies...

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

Evolution of life

child, we dream
teenager, we have ideas
adult, we have a bar code encrusted in the nape

we evolve to finish in the matrix

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

On The Collapse Of Modern Society"I've never seen so many folks
putting their hopes
in packaged air,
as far as I'm concerned,
and from what I've observed
misplacing material worth while
rushing back and forth
to get nowhere."
my Grandma said,
shaking her head.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

Within A BoxIt's a prison for the minds of haunted souls
an odd prison, not large enough to contain its prisoners
and yet it encompasses every fiber of their being
in silent, silent spaces.
Haunted souls are searching for the key
there is no key, but they don't know any better
and what harm could it do? Hope is better than nothing
here's an unlocked open door for you.
Little trinkets haunt souls with their questions
and we want answers, but they won't give
anything away. Very smart,
you know the world is ending soon.
(The best of which are only
crude descriptions of the magic
they are looking for.)

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

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... I Watched Her ...I watched her throw her life away, and dive into the gutters.

No one knows how she got there,
Or why she stayed around.
We just watched her in the streets,
A tragic lost and found.

They said she'd run away,
They said she was a thief,
They said she was a widow,
Running from her grief.

She sat on the corner,
Throw snow and wind and hail,
She wondered through the alleys,
The stench of smoke and ale.

No-one noticed her that much,
They showed no signs of care.
They left her in the weather,
In the cold and bitter air.

One night we hear the cries,
The shrill, terrible cries.
And down on that corner,
Her wide and maddened eyes.

I

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Abusive Society

by ~DevilsMatrix, Nov 22, 2012, 2:48:24 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Brutality of the mind-
The emotions-

Mental abuse.
Of a simplistic nature.
Torment of a human,
An innocent creature-
Or not.

Prevention of joy,
Withers the taker,
Subject as well,
Will be maimed.

For once I ask,
To not complain,
For others to notice,
My smile hides pain.

Abusive Societyby ~DevilsMatrix

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

comments/critique.? =]

~MadHat11D6 Dec 2, 2012 Writer

Good concept, great title. I have some critiques for you.

Let's start with the flow. For this sort of poem, I would get rid of the punctuation. Punctuation is a good tool if you're going to have longer lines where the beat of the poem isn't separated by a line break. Here, the natural flow should go with each line break. You don't need the punctuation. However, there are some moments in the piece where you can use it. If you have an tendency to over-use punctuation, you can take baby steps out of your comfort zone. take out all of the commas, but keeps the periods. Stuff like that. Because there are several moments in this poem where punctuation could become a tool rather than a formality. In the second stanza (I would actually recommend removing the first stanza altogether - it's unnecessary) you could take out the last line 'or not' to keep the four-line-per-stanza pattern. In order to get across that very same idea, you can set up the fourth line like so, "An innocent creature?"

I feel like the third stanza is something that needs to be addressed all on it's own. This (plus the aforementioned) really interrupt the flow. "Subject as well/Will be maimed" doesn't read quite right. Neither does 'prevention of joy'. In fact, I would play around with this part a lot, perhaps insert the line 'brutality of the mind' instead of 'prevention of joy'. 'Maimed' is also a very good word, and you should try a way to rework that stanza and still be able to use that word.

That's all I really got. I hope I helped.

~DevilsMatrix Dec 6, 2012 Student Writer

thankyou thankyou so much for your much apreciated critique! Its a bit rare to get it now a days

. Yes, I do over use punctuation alot, and i can see where your coming from in that reguards. as for the third stanza, i do agree that it doesn't quite sit well. I shall try and fix it up a bit =] thankyou so much for your critique!

~MadHat11D6 Dec 7, 2012 Writer

You're very welcome.

*zephyrtronium Nov 22, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I like it, but you don't need to end every line with punctuation, and you especially shouldn't if you wouldn't do so were there no line break in that place. It's nearly impossible to build flow when commas are forcing pauses every four words.

~DevilsMatrix Nov 22, 2012 Student Writer

thankyou for your comment! I know, I have a bad habbit for over punctuating stuff. =] I will try and edit to create a better flow. thankyou!

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