*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

Rejection

Foul Way Of Love

(something written some years ago)
Duisburg

Wake up in breathless mourning glory
Cheat and blame the skies
Turn your back on the stunning light before you
Drift off and die.

The devil shows you a tease
So you go on and pry
Pretending it won’t hurt more to stain more
So you build up the gallows of your head with lies

Take the gray off the ashes
And let them burn again-
This is your foul way of love
Will anyone get it right?


To Hover Above

Tips

Often, I feel like crashing into the sun when I forget
That I can just hover above the clouds…
Then I return to reality to gaze upon the beauty from where I stand….
And see all these that make the world go round…
Good and bad, through which all good can be made…
There’s no bad thing that can’t transcend to something good,
And there’s no good thing that can result to bad…
And when they say that hate had sprung from Love,
I say hate was always hate, or there was never love…

Often, I have felt, that I’ve just strayed into the moon
When I’ve forgotten that I could… hover above the stars…
Then I return to reality to gaze beyond the beauty in where I stand….
And understand why must the world go round…


Chambers of the Obsolete III

Originally uploaded and copyrighted in xyldrae.deviantart.com

So dark, the shadows in my eyes
So light, the hell within my burden,
That I may never say good night
In the calming presence of moonlight.

So vast, the barren spaces of my woes
So crowded, the only things that hold
That I may never taste more than defeat
In the cruel chambers of the obsolete.


Just Can’t

I wrote poems that give out the state of my soul…
I wrote when I’m desperate.
I wrote when I had secrets.
My poetry is my secret garden…
And my secret hell…
And my poetry is something you just don’t care about.
It’s okay. Although
When I’d rather talk to you than write a poem you wouldn’t care about…
I find myself too lifeless to write about how frustrated I am…
That to talk to you…
I just can’t…


Faceless Ghosts

I’ve grown tired of the faceless
Ghosts of assumptions and masked rejections
I’ve grown tired of the love of the needy
All there to amplify their worthless disregard
The people who love you are the people who are there
Through thick and thin, for better or for worse…


Chambers of the Obsolete – II

Defenses are set
Maneuvers are heavy
But nevertheless, ready
Human nature orchestrates
The way a person waltzes away…

And you can never face it whole
While in preparation for your doom
It’s the coldest place you’ll ever live in…
The Chambers of the Obsolete


Just Aware

My cold heart prevents the flames from total consumption
And I tire just being their battlefield,
And I tire just battling being
Like a ghost to an incipient deceased…

I wish I could pick a rose
Without minding its thorns-
Oh if only I am allowed to bleed…
Together we can paint the town red.

Flames melt my cold heart instead
Like roasted marshmallow
But no mouth would skin its bitterness away…
No system could digest


Passerby

He showed and told me everything,
Everything he owned…
I understood and felt them all,
But now his love I can’t behold…

He heard and saw everything I am,
Almost everything I own…
He understood and felt them all,
Then never wanted more….

Also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com


Awarely Unaware

(Expressing for an anonymous friend)

I have proacted drama involuntarily, or so I say
Because my choices do not make me look good at all;
And Euthanasia disguised as Euphoria lays its stage,
Bringing forth all players in my head, all dressed as fools.
Their dialogues are noises, though one meaning they accord:
My fate is seared. I am not wanted. Please make it change!

…But I can never change her who
Had made me, at every second split,
Aware that I try to breathe
And aware that I’m unaware.


Daily Subconscience On Exile

Can’t confuse memory to exist in the present.
Can’t confuse spiritual action to be memories.
I am two things joggled by a clown in coma
I live in spite of unseen casualties in both –
The regularly beaten, unbeating heart;
The indefinitely unfavored flavored soul…

Can’t confuse choice with what’s looked at for it,
Truth. Must distinguish aftermath from effects of choice.
I am one thing to a man, a jerk, and the moon,
And love in spite that one thing which is Nothing.
Nothing but every thing I’ve been considered to be not;
Nothing but a thing, considered merely, inconsiderately.

Must not be blind to distinctions.
Must be distinct from the blind.
So I worry not.

This poem and image is also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com.


True Beings

Better beings will come along
And all their assets shall favor the abandoned lover dearly

But this human’s soul is only fulfilled in both
Flaws and geniuses that come together in a single mold (
Not one without the flaws;
Not one without the geniuses;
)To allow give and take
Not only in surfaces worldly…

Humans were never trophies nor ornaments
When God created them
And they did not come to the world as benefactors to each other
But as warriors armed and armored with Light.
So this human’s soul shall only be sustained whole, consummated
By means of pairing, divine, for unearthly battle.

And better beings came and come along,
Some even staying or over-staying…
Acting like demi-gods, offering heavens that don’t exist
And offering the world, not knowing how gross it is…
Simultaneously begging the forlorn heavenly child
To yield what is neither owned or theirs to take…
And Truth had never ever favored any turn
More vicious circles formulate in necessary unbeing


This is also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com


“Lovely Death” Is His Name

His melancholic spontaneity won’t release me.
There’s more of gloom coming,
I am overwhelmed but this smile hurts my face.
Now he sings like a leprechaun
Brewing MADNESS in his pot of false hope.
Oh why am I here

peeping and weeping

grieving for his real name

While he dances in a humid hell of deceits
It is his home…..

AHA!

He sings it like a DIRGE –

“LOVELY DEATH”

…is his name!


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Where Mercy Is

I could paint this dullness now
I could paint this horror
This meaninglessness gets deadly by the hour
I wish I do not have to face tomorrow

Strangers’ voices are louder than yours
Their energetic small talks elaborate your silence
And I am not happy about the depth you do not share
And I can not escape to solace

—-
Also published in xyldrae.deviantart.com