Broken Halo

In Heaven I was born,
Given life and scythe,
To reap what God had sown.

Angel was I then,
Angel am I not.
Torn from my creator,
With hardly care or thought.

For brother and brother,
Did I love most sure.
War amongst the angels,
Turning righteous blood impure.

Sword and spear,
Ripping flesh and tear,
Did I watch upon this stage,
As all I knew made clear.

No weapon did I hold,
But voices we did raise.
To stem what war created,
Hoping Father's praise.

Instead of hope or love the same,
Banisment was all in store,
For the fallen host of brothers,
Weep for what can be no more.

Here we live on earth and dirt,
With quiet contemplation
Of what we left behind
Hoping only for exhonoration.

We live inside a broken halo.

That was absolutley beautiful dear

Welcome to Dark Whispers ^_^.

And a wonderful poem

Excellent flow and rhyme!
A wonderful piece of work
it's haunting.

~Sadie

Beautiful works... "Broken Halo"

like a broken dream, but more than that, a broken person. it's sad. hopeless.so sad. powerful.

Powerful. perfect discription DF.

anyway, its intoxicating. very nice. i wait to read more.

Thank you, all, very much.

Judgement
I looked into the crystal mirror, hoping I could see
A genuine reflection of all I wish to be
Nothing said and nothing gained the tide tells all the lies
While heros wish of daunting visions, vanity and pride.
Peering through the vacant vision packing up the time
Standing in the shadows of a rythmn reflecting my own mind
Call out mercy or retreat for the shepards of the flock
Darkness in its glory comes.
Standing in the mist of afterthought for thought he comes for me
Watching every step
Holding close the madness of what his eyes have seen
Prophetic revelation or chaotic revelry
Nothing is what it seems.
The hunted hunter hunting on the velvet of his dreams
Moving ever onward to the distant scene
There will be a reckoning.
Ghosts will stand a reckoning.

Excellent, old friend. Good to see you post here. :)

Figment
Pale morning sun crests the mountain view
While sleeping eyes awake begin the day anew
Silent in my sitting thinking thoughts that go askew
Feeling feelings I should never feel for someone such as you

You cast your silhouette on corners of my broken hall
Ever changing vision of desire headless of my aching call
Now I sit and blankly stare upon this frozen Throne of mine
Knuckled hands and downturned frowns echoed by design

You are but the misery of mystery huddled in my mind
Ever hunting for the weapon of my truant heart's demise
Haunt me not you vicious vixen seeking for my soul
Leave and come no further for I can take no more

You are but a figment of my dreams, one I hold so tight
Ever changing faces to my lust's delight
But morning comes and vapor'd mist there you then become
And once again I'm left inside these hollow walls, a prison built for one.

So little of your talent and boundless mind has of yet been shown but already i am humbled by your words.. wonderful.. truly and spectacularly

all beautiful poems, keep up the good work

excellent i really enjoyed reading those

Could you ever learn to love me?
Could you ever learn to lie?
Could ever dream of leaving,
Me to suffer in the sky?

Nothing's ever easy,
Old Man Time knows all,
The young break to crying
As the ancient fall.

A million times the story told
There's nothing new to hear
Watching my affections
Blister me new tears

And so we dance upon the stage
As gentle things we are
Laughing at the music
Leaving beauty left to marr

So I watch the world
From my distant stage
Hoping I can join you
For just one entry on the page

Could you learn to fly with me
With arms outstretched and wide
Could you look past the monster
Which lives on my inside

The eons pass
And still I stand alone
Looking for the reasons
I keep throwing these old stones.

And so I sit and watch
The stage is set to play
Hoping now the stories different
And your heart would be to stay

(This one needs work as it lacks a cohesive focus. I scribbled it down last night while I was skulking over bullshit I heard out of the ol' roomies mouth)

Your heart and mind speak volumes through your poetry yet you are silent to your praise... and don't doubt yourself the poem is perfect just the way it is.. i look back on my poems a lot and change things here and there but that is just because i am a perfectionist.. if you could update us when you have a version you deem more "worthy" then i know i would be glad to hear it.. marvelous job as always

Thank you Astarael. Thank you everyone. Your words are greatly appreciated. It is not common for me to share these things and I'm glad to know that you here appreciate the mental ramblings I have.

I'm never good at taking compliments, I guess that's why I'm silent. I didn't exactly grow up in or around places that encouraged creativity or positive self-image.

I'm a perfectionist too. I'm pretty solitary so I have lots of time to write and obsess about my writing. :)

Bad about taking compliments *check*
Kind of solitary *check*
Perfectionist *check*

*looks over the list and rips it in half*

you pretty much just described me so don't worry.. i don't need your thanks just for you to acknowledge that we are here.. your poetry is amazing and it far surpasses my own..

:)



I would have to disagree.

2H2/O -> 2H2+O2
Archaic pleasure, twisted delight
Darkness surrounds me in a brand new life
I am the pain of everyman
I am the love of a powerless soul
Death is but a nameless demon
Knocking on my door
Revel in my misery, wallow in my pain
Fortune is a memory
Love is but a game
May pure water, clean and clear
Wash over me and wash away my sins

Tuesday

Licking, sucking, crying
For the drop of sweet amber nectar
That falls like a drop of blessed rain
To the mouth of a man
With an unquenched soul.
Watch the agony of an aged Chinese man
As he watches the blood of his children's children
mix with the ash and tar of the desolate street.
Smile while a boy becomes a man
As he gets wet under the vigin white sheets
For the only first time.
Wallow in the pity of a woman with no identity
Step into a room of scarlet fury and receive a small recompense
For the loss of her own dignity.
Maybe we should all die on Tuesday

Faces of Hell
Look at the whore
Look at the drunk
Look at the cheater
Look at the liar
Look at the shifty
Look at the lazy
Look at the greedy
Look at the proud
Look at me

Colors of Hell

The cold fire of a rage so menicingly evil
I scream the scream of a hundred centuries of undending pain.
The symphony is grand and the silver instruments give glory to their God and I wish for prayer for him to come and release me from my private white hell.
The fire is inside and freezes an already broken mind.
The construction of any destroyed temple is his reward
For my demise, or my beginning.
Where does life begin and end
My pain knows not the answer
I see the omnipotent power of God in my world when others die
When will he die? When will he feel the pain of my immortal suffering?
"He can't" he cries as he kills another indiscriminantly.
Where is my omnipotent power then?
If I should live and no longer die
That is now the question
No more
Darkness there and nothing more than the red eyed vengence
I await to release upon my God and all who oppose me.

*stands firmly to what she said before* it is the truth.. nothing more..

Stillness
The world still turns, people still die
Children are still born, stars still shine
Mothers still cry, Books are still read
Steel is still tempered, people still hate
Love is still a mystery, happiness is still contentment
Sorrow still exists, joy is still commonplace
Humanity is still powerful, trees still grow
Still we hate
Nothing is still nothing, power is still in control
Friends still talk, lovers still die
The sun still shines, the truth still lies
Men still worry, mothers still don't care
Dogs still play fetch, the newspaper is still late
I still don't care, the world still turns
I still can't cry, the world still turns
I stop living and lay perfectly still, still the world turns
Still the mothers cry
Stillness is the soul within a life

Sadness
It's a hollow passage etched in time
Where the melody of fantasy crawls
On its hands in the glass of a water
That cascades in unison to the beating
Of a broken hearted messenger
An angel of the earth
A poet of the dirt
A madman filled with tears
For the things not meant to last
As all the roses seem to die in turn
And the ground is numb from the wishes
That never came true.

These are some quotes I've written down and whatnot that I thought were cool. Some were parts of less than good work, at least I salvaged what I could.

"Simple thought, simple mind
Simple action, complex time"

"If you want certainty buy a coffin"
-Dravanivin

"I am not God nor am I the Devil,
I'm the in between, I'm the one to fear"
-Dravanivin

"It's not death if you refuse it"
-James O'Barr

"I don't know much but I do know
the red light means stop".
- Dravanivin

"I cry with composure,
And that makes it hurt more"
-Dravanivin

And my favorite?
I was talking to friends many years ago
and we were discussing the cool things badguys say
before they off a good guy.
Jules quotes Ezekial 25:17, the Joker said,
"Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight" and so on.
We came up with our own and I'm proud to say
I've actually used mine, though I didn't off the guy.

"If I bled like Jesus would you cry for me?"
-Dravanivin

Untitled Story

The dark world has consumed so many as it consumed him.
He was not a hero dressed in shining armor but a peasant with naught but pennies to his name.
Here it is, in the midnight hour where life will soon be lost.
A chaotic premonition at a worldly man's own cost.
And as the indecision dances upon the pedestals for two,
It slowly blocks out light that once he shed for you.
And in these twisted shadows lurk a friends he's had or three,
Looking out to darkened waters, tear filled rivers lead to the Heartbreak Sea.
The people they all gather in the city square.
Solemn tear filled faces giving up their cries,
As even Angels up above whisper silent words of wisdom
As his eyes begin to dry.
All the while on gallows does he stand
Holding no one else's but his own tired hands.
Soon he will be leaving, shortly on his way.
Hoping that tomorrow those he's loved will have something nice to say.

I am the Knight of Wands
I am the Jack of Spades
I am the mocking walker
Pantomime inside charades

I am the cold redemption
Which men choose to ignore
I am the distant vengence
Holding tender love no more

Tread soft upon my border
Step quiet in my domain
Look not ahead for fortune
Your search would be in vane

I am the King of Misery
I am the Lord of Pain
I am the Son of Destiny
I am the God of Shame

I am the smiling watcher
Of all the things denied
To arrogence and ignorence
The vanity of pride

Step not into my kingdom
Lest judgement should you seek
For I am the protector
Of those who you call weak.

wow the story and meaning in this poem is simply without words to describe.. but as a major understatement.. i am at awe to the sheer graceful tragedy that is this poem..

so depressingly sweet and true.. marvelous..

Untitles story - amazing.. filled with such grief and pain that i feel myself within the medieval times watching the scene unfold with tearing eyes as i feel his agony burn through my soul... just awesome..



I am - nice way you set it up.. with good imagery but blunt to the point phrases as well.. with the sort of twisted ending it was great ;p

Thank you Astarael, your words are warmly received.

Tuesday - Written years ago. It was a bad day, not for me but for people I didn't know. I heard terrible things on the news, read them in the paper, heard about other tragedies from others, etc. It made me think that while humanity has achieved so much we have accomplished so little and therefor perhaps we should all be forfeit of our lives.

Sadness - While it could use a touch up the name says it all. As I recall I wrote it after being rejected for the 1000th time back in the day and that rejection reminded me of so many other less-than-happy moments.

Untitled Sory - I started writing a story described in the poem. The story I never finished but the "tl;dr" version is the poem which sums up the things I was writing the story for. I'd like to finish the story someday.

"I am". I just wrote that one a short while ago, it's one of my latest pieces. As you point out it's rather blunt, I was trying to go for a "warrior poet" kind of thing.

All of them were marvelous in my opinon and i know what you mean.. i write poems based off of influences from other people.. and sometimes use emotions that i can relate with to make them better.. though sometimes i think that one poem came out better than another truly the works we write are words from hearts and minds.. wisdom that life brings.. so none are obselete..

wow. you are awesome.

i hope that you return and post more soon....

Beautiful words you write. My favorite is "Sadness." Such heartfelt emotion can clearly be seen, for me, it's heartwrenching and close to home. Keep it up.

*praise showers from the heavens*

Thank you Death&Darkness, Sadness would have to be one of my favorites as well. As I'm sure you can imagine I was rather sad when I wrote it.

As always, thank you Astarael your words are always welcome and appreciated. :)

Broken

To which of love absolved
From blame is the harmony
Of desacration and of pain.
Through darkness and in light
Never in my mind have I been
So afraid, so afraid.
Afraid of what it is that is to come
On a dischordic venue of twisted delights.
Despondent tears.
In all of us
Hell's fires burn
To bad the Truth
Hides in lies
In each of us.
Minstrels to the Oracles
Of simplicity and fear.
Silence and tears forbid me
To cry aloud
my pain

The Colors of Hell

The cold fire of a rage so maniacally evil I scream the scream of a hundred centuries of unending pain.
The symphony is grand and the silver instruments give glory to their God and I wish for prayer for him to come and release me from my private white hell.
The fire is inside and freezes an already broken mind. The construction of any destroyed temple is his reward for my demise, of my beginning.
Where does life begin and end my pain knows not the answer.
I see the omnipotent power of God in my world when others die.
When will he die? When will he feel the pain of my immortal suffering?
He Can’t! He cries as he kills another yet indiscriminately!
Where is my omnipotent power then?
If I live and no longer die.
That is now the question.
NOMORE!
Darkness there and nothing more but the red eyed vengeance I await to release upon my God and all who oppose my immortality.

amazing.. i love it.. and of such sorrow it does speak..

it has been a long time since you have gifted us with a poem and i am so glad that you finally did

:)

Were it not for you I wouldn't have posted today. Thank you.

you are quite welcome.. remember.. no matter your musings.. there will always be those to listen...

((the last post was directed at the poem - broken))

the colors of hell - quite nice.. vengeful and cunningly livid..

i miss you drav.. come back *strangling hugs*

*smiles softly*

As I expected. Quietly compelling. Haunting. Deeply perceptive. And from the heart.

Faces of Hell, the first one about Angels, and Tuesdays.

And on a side note - I too, cry with composure. It frustrates me to no end, yet I would have it no other way.

I loved the title 2H2/0 --> H2 + O2. And the poem itself. Verymuchso awesome! The imagery in all this poetry was great. ::smiles much::
You have great talent...
Tuesdays was moving. And just... I dunno, just GREAT.

Dravanivin i knew i'd like this thread the second i saw the title
then my computer crashed loading it!!!
i want to see more of your stuff but i want to see your experimental work most of all!
Stop by my thread! hope you enjoy!

return to us soon drav :ph34r:

Your work is morbidly beautiful....and extremely touching.
Wrenching to read but the imagry lasts and the words linger in the air after you've read...such beauty in such pain.
You have a great talent!

Peace,
MourningAngel... :ph34r:

Astarael - You encourage and support my work and have since I started posting these here. For that I am eternally greatful. You are a beautiful soul and your work reflects the raw emotion that you experience and the graceful application of your thoughts to page is something no fan of poetry should miss.

Nem - The compliments of a beautiful and intelligent person, a friend, are always warmly received and I thank you for them. Yes, I wouldn't change the fact I cry with composure. It's painful not to be able to release a torrent of tears when you've been (more or less) kicked in the teeth. Badge of honor or some such bs. Either way, yeah, I wouldn't change it.

Surrealist - Haha. Thanks. I wrote that in a college Chemistry class. :) I'm glad you enjoyed the work.

Arvel_Manor - D'oh! I hope you're machine's ok. ;) Thank you, I will check your stuff out and try to get more of my own stuff up but right now I'm frantic at work and am typing this while I'm under the gun.

Ravenous - You're too kind. I'm glad a piece or two struck a chord in you. This stuff comes from where most poetry, a place where you've been moved. Good or bad it's hard to put down the pen when you've been struck by some event.

In a Moment

Here it is, a moment, under stars upon a canopy of velvet with a stranger I thought I knew. There we are together gazing at the celestial pearls of untouchable wisdom, quietly resenting each other. We are locked inside the feelings we have and neither will budge.
One of us wants to forget, to move past the torrent of bitter tears and forge ahead for a life that will never be tasted.
The other wants to remember, so badly, wants not a memory but a reality of present. A reality of indelible secrets which will be served on a mirror that reflects the distorted visions of time.
Once the nectar of love is gone what is left in this worldly life? What visions of demented joy can one truly endeavor with will or hope to hold onto?
We are left in this world for an indeterminate amount of time. Waiting for the effervescence of someone who wants to unlock it in our twisted and maligned hearts.
As I said before.
Here we are, under this canopy of stars, in the silence of the masquerading questions as they dance around. One to one shouldn’t be this tough, but as we know it sometimes is. Even brothers of blood and soul release their rage upon the world and in their unfortunate misfire the blistering heat becomes the target itself and the words spoken cannot be unsaid.
Daffodils and leprechaun’s lament about the tale.
Now it seems there’s no love left between this pair.
So here they sit.
And by the darkness are they lit,
Wondering if the otherl cares.