Wednesday, January 8, 2014

The Woman In Black

I can see in that confusion within her mind,
a distraction from the darkness within.
That pain within her, she'll never let it go nor forgive those
who care for her.
Losing herself to that smoky haze, fogging her mind
in a darkened well.
Wanting to rescue her from the darkness of her own devising.
A father who she feels never loved her,
abused her through cold neglect.
Lost within his own demons that he cannot escape.
A tragedy struck not long ago.
Someone close lost in shadow, fallen from grace.
Tears of sorrow, sobs of grief that never ends on this day, or any other.
How easy is it to lose yourself in a fog of the green,
devouring that pitch black smoke.
Reality shifting as a haze of pleasure fills her,
nothing but delusions.
Hate mixed with love, always running,
from what you never know.
The man she cares about, destructive in deeds
and in methods.
This darkness she's been forever lost in, beating against her mind,
drawing her away from hope.
Drawn to her as a knight with a cup in his hand, wanting to give
sustenance and a loving embrace.
Rejected and fallen from my white horse.
Her eyes wounded and filled with pain, denial plain for all to see.
Behind the haze lies so much pain that she can hardly bare.
Dazed and confused I arise and get back upon my horse.
My cup now half full when she may need it.
Off I ride to a dawn of another time.

Knight Of Swords

A man rides a mare of blackish hue.
Snow above a sight to behold on a day like yesterday.
Shattered hopes, a million pieces of bleak despair and that bitter
wine, drowning his sorrow in this pit of loneliness.
A cloak of stars wrapped neatly around his frame of mystery.
A sword, one edge for truth, the other for lies.
What does he see? But the ugly truth.
Beauty nothing but illusion, revealed by hard cruel laughter
from a nameless source.
A reflection of a face upon tarnished steel.
Red roses blossom around her still frame.
The knight rides on to a cloud far and away.


A necromancer dances to the vibes of
grave and rot.
Standing in shadow.
Beholding the night on a crystal blue day.
Upon his finger a ring of ivory most pale,
a grinning skull to the great beyond.
Mock him not for death is but a game.
A chant, a cry filled with foulness.
She stands in his grip.
Power flows and the sings upon his will.
Fear him, for death is but a game.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Moonlit Sky

I lay in the silvery moon light, basking in its glow that
is ever lasting in the darkest of nights.
A raven flies above my too still form.
A cry piercing my soul, opening the silence
of my being
The moon, glorious in its need and every breath
filling my spirit.
Evil and good entwined on a pillar of
black ice and molten lava.
What am I?
But glorious flesh!

Sacred Scars

These scars of mine, trailing down my
arms and into my soul.
The twilight of my past, reflecting a bitter
sweet symphony.
A single tear of blood trails down a ravaged
cheek of despair.
The sun above beating against my flesh like
broken shards of glass.
A dagger in my heart, dark red blood
dripping down my pale lips.
So what are these ravaged souls on a single
blade of tarnished glass?
A whisper in the wind, a cry of a lonely hawk
on a still blue day.
Alas the trivialities of morality as all morals
are mortal.
Sweet nectar of bitter tea as this throne
of swords bite into my pale flesh.

Woman With Midnight Hair

I close my eyes in passion as I glimpse the
woman with midnight hair.
Dark brown eyes of age old wisdom.
I fear her love followed by
cold rejection.
Swimming, drowning in a pool of tears
that is of her derision.
A sob of passion spurned.
Blind I am to the art of the one
night stand.
Always falling under the spell of
a long term love.
Awaking from my dreams in a cold sweat.
Sobbing upon a pillow etched out
of black despair.
How I wish we could fly above
in the open sky.

-Jeff B-

Heart Of Rot

Looking out my rear window that is of my soul,
fighting back my desire to kill.
A black hearted soul in a field of the damned.
Tears falling from that gray pit of misery,
a world of my devising.
My blade tipped with poison as sweet as the poppy
and as deadly as nightshade.
A crow upon my left shoulder, death and life
within it's shiny depths.
This empty feeling, invading my veins like a virus.
Blood flowing like a fountain on a noonday.
The life in his eyes draining.
His blood flowing upon that tiled floor
of ivory and ebony.
A pool of liquid ruby, tainted with the smell of desire.
His life filling that dark pit within my soul,
replacing that bleak despair.
Walking in this dark road with a smile of triumph.
Within lies a demon of glory and power,
a dragon within a hall of gold.
Smiling in twisted pleasure, a murder of crows
the mystery of the human heart.
Pleasure but a reflection of Pain while Good
but pale moon to the Sun of Evil.
Look within his dead eyes and you'll see his
chest rise and fall one last time.
Fall within and without and feed that heart
of worms and rot.
Moving, drifting in the dark abyss with
a smile upon my blackened lips.