*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

Solitude

Almost The Saddest Poem

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I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would die…
Pre-death pre-burial requiems…
Lethal notes… Morose words and non-words…
I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would live forever –
Forever in the dungeons of my benevolence.

And then, I wanna cry my soul out as if I’ve lost God…
But first, wish that I still have a soul for I no longer know…
I wanna run in circles within an untamed wilderness
to feel that I am not lost, in circles, running and wanting untamed…
after my tears have equalled the waves of all the world’s seas
including her… her tsunamis of centuries…

I want to find myself at the edge of a snow-capped mountain and never rest
then scream my frozen lungs out after expelling my guts,
scream until I hear only the sound of my recovered voice –
the one that could read and write sadder than almost the saddest poem…

Distorted and soul-starved,…

What did I say?

Straving for my soul,
I don’t ache to feel a little less alive…
Nor do I merely ache…
My madness does not represent a longing for joy.
Madness sways beyond the barbwires of longings.
Thus, not even a longing for death.
(You don’t need to die to be dead).
My loneliness is not soothed by company.
Loneliness is glory!
My burden blinds with the northern lights best in darnkess.
My passions severe the cosmos with their controlled nonexistence…
There is nothing more worse for me and ill
than the brooding mediocrity when I do not sing when I will.

—–
NOTES:

“Almost the Saddest Poem” is a remake of The Saddest Poem. But herein, the context changes somehow but the end-point remains. How can not being able to sing (no matter how you sound or don’t sound as silence can be music) be so sad? P.S. The titles have nothing to do with the levels of sadness in each of them.


Of Time…

toddlers58

Sometimes,
good intentions without understanding result to worse things.
Sometimes,
it’s better to not understand beings and simply respect feelings.

Ripples of thoughts
of wonders and sorrows
severe his mind gracefully
at the wrong time….

All in non-extremes
beg for attention
when the only Freedom starts with Detention…
Isolation
Seemingly Zombiefication
– A Liberation they know nothing of.

Pink and Green
Images of woe
Images of Joy
Disprove Slumber

-THE DEATH WAS REAL!

It was a nightmare that came before sleep
It was a dream that happened because he awakened…

But now he must awaken again….

There is a pool of woe in the Southeast,
and fish in the cold air up North to the West…
He knows no other waters but woe.

Time stops in this climax of suffering.

The LIFE was real…

Sometimes,
he gets swallowed up in a time machine…
and knows just about too many things…
Sometimes…
he only thought of time…

He cries to sleep,
wakes up the same,
blood flowing through his veins
and outside of them.

Splashes of blood
on this mundane floor
drown him gently
in sweet Sunday gloom.


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…


If Ever Again…

me

Everything is at stake for my soul, and I’d be drawing closer to Hell’s entrapment
and would burn graver enough to give Hell a good name before I reach it,
should I suffer the same horrors over and over again
aside from each one’s aftereffects.
Hell would be stripped off of its place in extremity
and the pain and madness within me shall overthrow it.


If Darkness Is So Bad

Originally uploaded and copyrighted with credits for stock usage in xyldrae.deviantart.com and created for the “Scavenger Hunt” contest administered by the Intermediate-Manips group.

If darkness is so bad…
Why do we close our eyes when we pray…
Why as we become deeper
The further our visuals go away…
Is it not dark when we dream
And envision beyond what our eyes behold –
The sights that render us powerless
Against the worthy stories untold…

If darkness is so bad,
I dare you watch the stars in daylight
I dare you love less the sun…
I dare you keep your kisses to your sight
Don’t close your eyes when you make love
Gaze not at the twilight as it goes
Find no beauty in your favorite scenery
And imagine things without their shadows

If darkness is so bad,
What makes Light redeeming?
What heightens touch, what perfects sound
Why eyes are closed when soulfully singing?
If darkness is so bad,
I dare you, wish upon no shooting star
Pray only for what’s delighting.
Keep sane in continuous joys
Blind to the glory of overcoming.



Open Shutter

I wanted to capture running water
Shaping rocks yonder the spotlight sunset
But His hands keep me from my lover Ocean
With untimely tides and decent injuries…

There’s a barren sense
Within the four corners where I lay
Outside, the stars glitter smiles for my solitary stay
While the moon won’t even show its face…

Just like the night skies
I was unwhole to the naked and non-parallax eye….
My ears can only hear my Lover’s heartbeat
Wash the shores and securities away…

Open shutter,
Choose the better light
Draw my frustrations away
Into a better sight….


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


Mistaken Angels

Edited lyrics from a Rap Song dedicated to people who talk so highly of love and relationship but would trash up their “loved ones” regardlessly – a combination of parasites and maggots.

Shut yourself up.
Go shoot yourself up.
I’m taking no more…

I’m in the cold
I crash and burn
And I’ve been told
That I can’t turn
In this fast lane
With this cursed brain
So much insane!

I’m crashing,
Solo!
In the background losing halo!
Hating on you pretenders!
Now I’m spitting the truth coz I know –

You were bitching when I was dying
You were mocking when I was grieving
Your offenses are knives all over
They’re stabbing me forever…
Too bad I’ll always remember…

The sun melts
When it touches my tears…
The ocean rages
When it stinks of our fears…
Thunderclouds cheer
The devils up with its roars…
You mistake them for angels
Then you grieve all the more…

That does not sound right
But you make it sound right…

Help me now
Or watch me bow
As you slay me now
I’m praying now
Lord please forgive me…
I never did recover
And I fear this really would never be over!
I’m hating.
I’m shaking.
Devils are lurking
In my black heart
And I can’t prevent
This soul abused,
Accused, confused,
Refused, reduced and aching!
Your existence is so depressing!
My hate is overwhelming!
Anything true eludes me
Smiles and tears alike consume me!
I yearn to stop existing!
Give me that non-existence!
Love tires me just the same…
You can see it in my face –
I’m so tired of this sacrilegious game!

The sun melts
When it touches my tears…
The ocean rages
When it stinks of our fears…
Thunderclouds cheer
The devils up with its roars…
You mistake them for angels
Then you grieve all the more…

That does not sound right
But you make it sound right…


The Cross

“the circular, colored curtain of the eye….”
From its opening, the pupil takes form…
Through it, the light that enters, regulates…
Everything’s made to be broken.

I am deaf to the song of fools
Yet I find no wise man’s rebuke….
Perhaps I am called to take his place….


Dunes

(A collaboration with Conrad Garcia)

Indistinct in the twilight,
The veiled bride moon.
Tales of rabid white lies
Whisper howls on the freezing desert plain;
Skies stripped of their stars, arousing handicapped sighs
That sometimes touch the infinity of sands
And wail through storms that peril no man
For no man was here—
Patiently the vultures drool
While much stranger things contemplate their kills.
Do the winds even know they can make or break the Earth;
Their tenacious movements so restless, refined in plains of aridity?
And oh… what else do they carry
Aside from a mass of emptiness
To proliferate that of the cold, retreating night?
There’s nothing to break so –
Some slacks come around the way of the scorpion
Far from what throbs and aches for their venom;
The dessert eagle glares, casting
On a detached carapace, the scowl of a rising flame.
And still, no man is here.
Spirits wail from where…
Valleys of disenchantment tell stories of fleeting passersby
Thorned and torn by the old worlds
Craven to the unfamiliar, spiteful to the new.