64 replies to this topic

[Ransom]

Paradise (for Ransom, II)

Peridot plumes sparkle under a golden star
And ponder an earth below
Rusty core of coolness, bed of silk
Keep them rooted and tempered, ne’er dancing afar

Stargazer lilies swing under a sapphire sky
Lilting and circling so glorious
Magenta splashes dazzle and wake
Then fly away on sweet breeze, all awry

Willows fronds bound and sway
Tahitian beats on sweet wind
Balmy caress and salt air
Heaven is found here, today.

©K. Scarlet Rakoczy, 1/29/12

For once I can actually say, I am speechless.

[KellyScarletRakoczy]

Smiles. I used "sweet" twice though. Oh well!

[KellyScarletRakoczy]

*changed sweet wind to "soft" wind*

[Ransom]

Reservoir

If I were to have a life,
I would want it to be the best life possible.
To walk on Grecian flower pedals,
to align the stars as I see fit.

To have a home in which I look forward to returning,
where everything has it's own place.
Where comfort and nostalgia both reside.
Where happiness is received and well met.

A wife who will love me no matter what,
with both loyalty and affection.
Kids that inmate my every action,
and believe in my every promise, every word.

These things are mine for the taking,
even if they rarely turn out to be what is wanted.
For I find my loneliness squirm and recede,
at the prospects of my future endeavors.

But it indeed only goes to show,
that what awaits us on the morrow,
is the results of our decisions that we come to regret,
all in the name of hope for a better life.

Edited by Ransom, 11 February 2012 - 10:19 PM.

[Ransom]

Recompence

I can't return to past reflections
oft times spent alone with you.
I can't laugh amid recollections
for pictures will never speak true.
I can't swallow humiliation
so instead I watch you fade.
I can't turn the tides or tables
amongst this ever present shame.

Forever know that I play for keeps.
Mate for life and count the strife;
and even if I find willows willingly weep
three more will sink in their knifes.

I carry no longer these discarded memories
re-abandon a life that's already shed.
I carry no longer within me these wishes
with an enemy in which I once shared.

Forever know that I played for keeps
and though I lied, forever died inside.
Let those where your whispering wanton sleeps
and it's desire be forever denied.

I will not wash away my sorrows
in the birth place of new faults gained.
I will not be thankful for better tomorrows
while collecting such bitter remains.
I will not charm you, nor forgive you
of the crime no one can commit
I will no take the chance ever again
that much I can commit.

Edited by Ransom, 23 February 2012 - 03:19 PM.

[Ransom]

To Laho (The Last)

And on top of that wound he built an empire, with escape routes and fortifications galore. He looked over this land and all he had built, and found it wanting. So he tore it all down and rebuilt it again, in reference to his fleeting desires, every day and every night seemingly without end.

But when he grew tired of this routine, he wandered amongst the open fields and slept under the stars, where nothing was there to remind him of his failures besides his memory, ever bittersweet and taunting. He heeded the call and made the road his home, never looking back towards the past. Through all the lands, over all the seas, he finally came to the conclusion that there would be no rest in this.

So he stopped and stared at his reflection, and recoiled in horror when he could not recognize himself anymore. Who was this creature with worn eyes screaming with malcontent. Oh, how time had aged his features, how the years stole from him, and the older he got the faster time flew. So he grew bolder, even more reckless, and soon found comfort to be fleeting before he even arrived somewhere new.

Now he cursed both the sun and the moon, and everything that had it's rightful place in the world. Found his own views to be skewed, and backwards he fled through those desolate lands and makeshift empires to the very beginning of those past afflictions, the very same that sent him afar. He felt so weary of this world and the little it had to offer, so he found a quiet place in the desert, knelt down beside himself and welcomed an long overdue repose.

Edited by Ransom, 10 April 2012 - 05:53 PM.

[Ransom]

Saint of Salton Sea (Maladjustment)

I will be the Saint of Salton Sea,
I will be the Salton Sea Saint.
The man, the myth, the mystery
a solution to an ageless complaint.

The hollow man without a home,
who wanders the world endlessly;
no longer a victim of his own
self-fulfilling prophecy.

A ghost of a former memory,
that loves without constraint.
I will be the Saint of Salton Sea,
I will be the Salton Sea Saint.

Edited by Ransom, 21 April 2012 - 11:15 AM.

[FeyMentality]

Your poetry is well structured and provocative, as are your stories. Well done, I look forward to more. Thanks for posting.

[Ransom]

This was once my lonely road, 7

once upon a time. 5

A lonely road that took me home, 8

one I once called mine; 5

and in that home I watched it snow 8

under shadowed eyes. 5

I thought I knew, but now I know 8

love can't conquer lies. 5

We walk alone together now, 8

choke on each our truth; 5

to trust, to long no longer 7

under love-spent youth. 5

Your poetry is well structured and provocative, as are your stories. Well done, I look forward to more. Thanks for posting.

Thanks

Edited by Ransom, 26 April 2012 - 06:07 PM.

[Ransom]

III

Twisted, like an autumn leaf
around your folding ringlets of lost horizons.
Too precious is your gnarled embrace;
it is to dance with the wind, to expire.

Serpentine, color me drawn to this-
Those little black fires stoking my embers,
carved of marble features, a distinct derriere.
Possess me, my darling in the same suited fashion.

Ageless-timeless- your beauty is a beacon,
a reprieve from this unforgiving world.
Rape me-mother me- tell me of a promise,
one never meant to keep, one of pure desire.

Edited by Ransom, 11 May 2012 - 05:04 PM.

[Ransom]

Ad astra per alas porci

To old friends, and old lovers
a remember-me-not.
When the feelings and faces
are finally forgot.
No distance, or time
is ever too far,
to change reminiscence,
where ever you are.

This clock keeps on ticking,
and my feet keep on walking.
Searching for something that no one can name.
Yet the days still grow darker.
As my mind still does wander;
and you self serving creatures are to blame!

To old friends, and old lovers
where ever you be.
Look ever back in anger
and remember not me.
Let flames turn to embers
and embers into ash.
As the future to the present,
and the present into past.

Edited by Ransom, 12 May 2012 - 11:14 PM.

[Idnaceus Crow]

I like..I like..Thanx fer sharin'.

[Ransom]

There is no place left in this world for simple men. We are in the age of use, our guiding star, where con-men shall inherit thee earth. Empires are built on the backs of broken men, as the poor sleep soundly without choice or thought, and will die within their security. The rich sleep just as soundly without care or emotion, and will die yearning for something they cannot buy. Comfort makes slaves of us all, there is no escape.

There are no illusions of what we sacrifice, acceptance comes crawling out of the darkness with a dagger of relief clenched between it's teeth. How often are we humbled by the sun, with wings made of wax, until we are unable to dream or look each other in the eye anymore. And so the Walking Dead are born. Optimism will the death of the useless, and Pessimism will be the death of the proud.

I wonder if it has always been this way, and the silence felt within my heart tells me so. These great men of history are only the most successful con-men of all. So convincing they believed in their own lies, and in turn so did all others. To carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders, all that ugliness, suffering, unfairness. Oh Atlas, how you take a knee, head bowed, never able to stand on your own two feet.

...there is no escape.

Edited by Ransom, 14 September 2012 - 04:34 PM.

[Ransom]

Rendre

Stop, look well around yourself,
maybe this life isn't at all what it seems.
I'ts fluctuations, the up going of a sweet day-old dream,
a destination of the weak, wanting, and tired;
but those dark and desperate times
(where the inner ugliness reigns)
are not taken lightly by a man with nothing left to lose.
Dare I beseech this levied pessimism?
Look toward the future with the wings of hope;
believe faithfully that this faltering light
holds the promise of a happy ending.

Is life only what we make it?
If true, with all we're dealt since birth,
with dispositions as differing as the tides of time;
shall we find something more,
a better way worthy enough of our fleeting time?
To compensate for this sacrificing, endless suffering,
the just scraping by. . . survival of everyday attrocity.
With good times being enough,
the family you have, or the friends you make a surrogate family of,
(if you have none to call your own)
and the lasting memories you make among them.

Someone special to love,
to whisper too in the deepest dark of night
your secrets, your hopes, your dreams.
To work and have it be with meaning.
Either with a false sense or honest acceptance
of what is or what shall never be.
Those moments to reflect back upon
seen with crystal clarity, where you were then,
where you are now, and what you've accomplished since.
To swell with an orange afterglow
most fittingly attributed to the fullness of soul.
This must be what it means to be happy.
It scares me so. . .

Everything has it's place, so where shall I place you?

“Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.”

~Shakespeare

Edited by Ransom, 20 September 2012 - 12:07 AM.

[Ransom]

Echelon

The first thing I see is black and red. I shake slightly as I awake from a dream, lifting myself up to lean on my left shoulder that burns like fire. I look around both lost and confused to these new surroundings as I notice hundreds of black crooked spires all covered with red pulsing lights lining a large body of dark water. A cruel wind blows through these towers creating a whistling and cracking sound, as if someone were laughing and crying together. My mind starts to reel, and I understand that I am alone once again.

I wade into the dark water, swim out a length and dive down towards a lighted city at the bottom. As I swim towards it, arms and legs waving goodbye to the surface, I feel the cold creep into me the deeper I sink. Under an archway there is a semi-circle of light, and as I emerge out of the water, I pull myself up onto the smooth stoned surface and see three doors in the distance. I study them one by one, one Grey, one White, one Black. There is no choice to be made, the Black door opens.

I enter a room where strangers are in the throes of a full swing party, and I am received as a King. A new and cold reality dawns on me, these are no strangers at all, they are all known to me, and I greet them by their proper names. Pride grips me in a firm handshake and a pat on the back, Loneliness half smiles at me from a table that he sits at alone nursing a scotch. Both Time and Death are dancing together, while he dips her she grins at me and he winks.

Apathy wanders listlessly around the room searching what for he cannot remember. The Id, Ego, and Super-ego are playing cards together at a table in the back, trading jeweled memories for currency. Depravity sits next to Despair at the bar cloaking themselves within a cloud of dark humor. The brothers and sisters of the sins seven sit at a banquet table dressed to the nines, and no matter what the eat or drink they still seem unsatisfied.

Soon I am ushered up to a throne that sits in the middle of the room. I am strapped in with leather restraints closed tightly around my ankles and wrists, everyone in the room rejoices. They crowd around eagerly, opening their mouths wide as a mosquito-like stinger pushes out and unfolds. Each in turn they feed on me til each one is full, for I am their prisoner here. As the blood runs down my face, and gets into my eye, the last thing I see is black and red.


"The greatest enemy will hide in the last place you would ever look."
~Julius Caesar

Edited by Ransom, 24 September 2012 - 01:48 AM.

[Ransom]

And I'm not too proud to say it, maybe I got it wrong
it's why I'm sitting here, singing this fucking song
and if I indeed find heaven, most likely drive on through
waving my flag of surrender, black and white and blue

Cause I can't even remember, a time not rent like thunder
reflecting back over the water, to a past that's dead and gone
these words they kill the silence, echo further and further
til I myself find them, in another remembered past

. . .cause I just want to feel.

"Go then, there are other worlds than these." ~King

Edited by Ransom, 27 September 2012 - 07:53 PM.

[Ransom]

Mr. Jack & Dr. Daniels.

“Hello again brother, welcome back.”
“You were right, there I've said it”
“Of course. Sit down, have a drink.”

“Don't mind if I do. So what now?”
“We'll get there, here have another.”
“What of my family, my friends?”

“Have you any left? Are you not alone?”
“There was those who cared, wasn't there?”
“No. I'm your family now, your only friend.”

“Fine. So how should we proceed?”
“I will take care of it, here have another.”
“You know drinking never helped.”

“Sure it has, lets me take over easier.”
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
“Mr. Jack. Don't you know Dr. Daniels.”

“Know what? Who and where am I?”
"Same person you've been, same place you were."
"Isn't that the problem. To not be who I was."

"You're half right, You're to become who I was meant to be"
“I'm dead aren't I, that's it isn't it. Been pushed back for your consciousness.”
“Now, now. sleep. Here, have another drink.”

Dr. Daniels smiles, places his hand on his own shoulder, and speaks.

“Now I have someone to take my place within the darkness, sleep well.”

"When all that's left to do is

reflect on what's been done

this is where sadness breaths

the sadness of everyone

just like when the guys

built the dam at otter creek

and all the water backed up

deep enough to dive

we took the dead man in sheets to the river

flanked by love

deep enough to dive." ~Live

"Better to reign in hell, then serve in heaven." ~Milton

Edited by Ransom, 01 October 2012 - 12:42 AM.

[Ransom]

Joseph


There was once an old crone who lived by herself deep within the woods of Elder Run. She spent her last remaining years of life creating the perfect man. She fumbled amongst the jars labeled mystery and magic, searching for that angelic face she once stole off a fallen warrior. As her gnarled hand touched briefly upon the jar, a crooked smile lite across her aged face.

After placing the soldier’s face on the already assembled body, she began to chant over and over again the same three lines for three days straight.

“All I ever wanted, so shall you ever be,
and all I am without, so shall you ever see,
if ever there was such a love, so shall you be to me.”

At first his hand twitched, and then as a monster being given birth, he arose and opened his eyes upon this miserable and deformed creature that stood before him, the one that gave him birth. His first words were lucid and well placed, while spoken they both traced the first words themselves upon eager lips, he asked only one question.

“Why?”

She fell on her knees, which in her age would not be dealt with lightly. She grasped his feet and kissed them tenderly, after a moments pause his hand caressed her cheek, and then raised her face to face his.

“Dearly beloved, you have created me. I see you so lost and lonely, and I wish to fill that void. I love you truly, as an creation loves a creator, as a son loves a mother, as a friend loves a friend, and as a lover loves another.”

A tear of fire strikes down the old woman’s face creating a scar, finally she may have her great reward, to be able to love another truly. A perfect creature of her own creation, in form and mind-set completely. The few remaining years passed by with the blink of an eye, and as she grew to love Joseph (as she decided to call him), she learned her own faults and flaws respectively as a person.

As it is with many people that decidedly lean on love as their salvation, she slowly grew to hate him. His beauty, his loving disposition, his free spirit, his youth, and his naivety. She almost wanted to smother it, because it was too much for her tiny soul to bear. So much so, that in her final hours she spoke plainly, struck true with her words as if to cut down his loyalty as nothing more than blasphemy.

“Joseph, I have loved you as much as anyone could love an object. But since it was of my own creation and desire, that love belongs to me, is mine and mine alone. You have made me happy, and for that I am forever grateful, but you are not real, what you feel is not real, your love is not real. I am dying, and I fear what will become of you, if I am not here to look after you. If you must, live my child, live.”

With her last words she died, and that same tear that burned her face now scared his. He took well care of the preparations and dealings of laying her to rest. Then he was faced with a choice, one he truly never had before. He prepared himself for the long journey to civilization, something he only heard about in stories. Right before he sets out, he kneels beside her grave and comes to the conclusion that he has fulfilled his purpose in life, what he was created for, and to realize that he cares no longer for this life.

He walked back into the cabin they both once shared and grabbed a twisted dagger from the table, and cut his arm open. He pulled out some wires among the cold flesh, and found the terminal for shutdown. One last question cross musted his mind before he ceased to exist. It was merely what would happen to him after leaving this place, and would he ever see his owner again.

Joseph


There was once an old crone who lived by herself deep within the woods of Elder Run. She spent her last remaining years of life creating the perfect man. She fumbled amongst the jars labeled mystery and magic, searching for that angelic face she once stole off a fallen warrior. As her gnarled hand touched briefly upon the jar, a crooked smile lite across her aged face.

After placing the soldier’s face on the already assembled body, she began to chant over and over again the same three lines for three days straight.

“All I ever wanted, so shall you ever be,
and all I am without, so shall you ever see,
if ever there was such a love, so shall you be to me.”

At first his hand twitched, and then as a monster being given birth, he arose and opened his eyes upon this miserable and deformed creature that stood before him, the one that gave him birth. His first words were lucid and well placed, while spoken they both traced the first words themselves upon eager lips, he asked only one question.

“Why?”

She fell on her knees, which in her age would not be dealt with lightly. She grasped his feet and kissed them tenderly, after a moments pause his hand caressed her cheek, and then raised her face to face his.

“Dearly beloved, you have created me. I see you so lost and lonely, and I wish to fill that void. I love you truly, as an creation loves a creator, as a son loves a mother, as a friend loves a friend, and as a lover loves another.”

A tear of fire strikes down the old woman’s face creating a scar, finally she may have her great reward, to be able to love another truly. A perfect creature of her own creation, in form and mind-set completely. The few remaining years passed by with the blink of an eye, and as she grew to love Joseph (as she decided to called him), she learned her own faults and flaws severely as a person.

As it is with many people that decidedly lean on love as their salvation, she slowly grew to hate him. His beauty, his loving disposition, his free spirit, his youth, and his naivety. She almost wanted to smother it, because it was too much for her tiny soul to bear. So much so, that in her final hours she spoke plainly, struck true with her words as if to cut down his loyalty as nothing more than blasphemy.

“Joseph, I have loved you as much as anyone could love an object. But since it was of my own creation and desire, that love belongs to me, is mine and mine alone. You have made me happy, and for that I am forever grateful, but you are not real, what you feel is not real, your love is not real. I am dying, and I fear what will become of you, if I am not here to look after. Live my child, live.”

With her last words she died, and that same tear that burned her face now scared his. He took well care of the preparations and dealings of laying her to rest. Then he was faced with a choice, one he truly never had before. He prepared himself for the long journey to civilization, something he only heard about in stories. Right before he sets out, he kneels beside her grave and comes to the conclusion that he has fulfilled his purpose in life, what he was created for, and to realize that he cares no longer for this life.

He walked back into the cabin they both once shared and grabbed a twisted dagger from the table, and cut his arm open. He pulled out some wires among the cold flesh, and found the terminal for shutdown. One last question crossed his mind before he ceased to exist. It was merely what would happen to him after leaving this place, and would he ever see his owner again.

Edited by Ransom, 05 October 2012 - 12:52 PM.

[Ransom]

A song from the past

Before the dawn breaks anew
for we both stare down this barrel
and if you choose to take me home
this promise is meant to last forever

No matter where ever you are
we were meant for so much more
no matter our place, no matter how far
we were meant for something more
and if you live by simple reaction
know we are both becoming more
and if you refuse to take action
we will become so much more. . . alone.

Alone.
Alone, alone.

If time is what makes the difference
I know that you will find your way.
As I sit here trying to remedy mistakes
I'm forever sorry, I wish that I could have stayed.

No matter where ever you are
know that you will be so much more
if you refuse, accept the abuse
know that you're worth so much more
and if you ever come to question
if there could've been something more
know that I'll always be there
waiting in time, for something more. . . alone

Alone.
Alone, alone.

Cause no matter the substitution
it can never erase;
your smile, your warmth, your beauty
your ever loving face
and this moment If I were to choose
I would dedcde to never erase
the love, the loss, the sembalance
cause it's never over
never over
never. . .

Edited by Ransom, 14 October 2012 - 10:26 PM.

[Ransom]

A song from the past

Before the dawn breaks anew
for we both stare down this barrel
and if you choose to take me home
this promise is meant to last forever

No matter where ever you are
we were meant for so much more
no matter our place, no matter how far
we were meant for something more
and if you live by simple reaction
know we are both becoming more
and if you refuse to take action
we will become so much more. . . alone.

Alone.
Alone, alone.

If time is what makes the difference
I know that you will find your way.
As I sit here trying to remedy these mistakes
I'm forever sorry, I wish that I could have stayed.

No matter where ever you are
know that you will be so much more
if you refuse, accept the abuse
know that you are worth so much more
and if you ever come to question
if there could have been something more
know that I will always be there
in time waiting for something more. . . alone

Alone. Alone, alone.

Cause no matter the substitution
it will never erase
your smile, your warmth, your disposition
your beautiful loving face
and in this moment If I were to choose
over again, I would decide to erase
our love, our loss, it's sembalance
rather then regretfully retrace.
cause it's over
it's never over
it's over
never, again.

Edited by Ransom, 14 October 2012 - 10:34 PM.