Graveyard

Graveyard

Graveyard…

What is a graveyard for the ones who never truly lived?

What is a graveyard for the ones who never learned how to forgive?

What is a graveyard… but a pile of mud and bones

Warmed by the sun,

Frozen by the wind and rain,

Guarded by the moon and stars,

Frozen ivory weeping for eternity under the ground…

Forgotten stories,

Never to be told…

Stories of people who have dreamed and loved,

Stories of people who endured and fought with all their heart…

Fairytales and nightmares,

Swirling in the dark,

Buried deep under the sins of humans,

Phantoms of a world that had once been, but fell apart.

Advertisements

Scegli

Scegli!

Scelgo che?

Scelgo il dolore di un amore che non corrisposto?

Scelgo la tristezza di un cuore spezzato,

Nuvoloso?

No, non posso resistere cui,

Non più,

Non voglio perdermi nei questi bui

Non voglio perdere la mia anima,

Né tantomeno la virtù.

Scegli!

Scelgo che?

Scegli l’amore!

Scegli il cuore!

Scegli il rischio!

Scegli il fiore!

Prima del momento in cui il tuo essere

Muore.

Ink

Ink

Smears as black as coal

Boil wickedly across the canvas of her skin,

Splattered in the sinful pattern

Of two hands,

As lips begin to twin,

Burning, scalding, scorching and consuming

Shredded fragments of raw flesh,

As they kept spewing

Fire, flames, embers and warmth,

The rhythm of his moves

Broiling her with scorn,

With nauseous want,

The toxic pitch corroding through her bones,

Melting painfully away

The few scraps of her bruised and fragile core.

Yet she stays silent,

Staring at the ceiling of her cage,

Hollow eyes concealing

Pure and simmering white rage,

As two hands move and touch

The soft canvas of her skin,

Leaving behind them

The traces of a soul that had once been.

A Madman with Feelings

Oh, how tragically beautiful shine the crimson beams of ardent light, the sun fading away on the horizon, sinking deep under the sea, under the weight of the forthcoming night. The madness in his eyes gleams in the holy luminescence of the moon, reflecting silver rays of lost souls and their doom. He caresses the sand, the water and the waves, the black top-hat on his head obscuring his gaze as pristine teeth glisten in a wicked smirk. Her shadow lays before his eyes clad in the white gown of the gods, sticking to the soft, smooth canvas of her skin, painted with the stains of sinful blood. He laughs… a hollow laugh it seems to be, yet the smile on his face and the pain do contradict in the same way their happiness, their rage and toxic love did before they hid. He glances at his hands, smeared with scarlet liquid as it drips on sand, the beating heart rests at his feet. The madness illumes again, along with its faint beats. He crushes the frail thing right then, with no damn thought, the lifeless body of his maiden dissipating to the stars, welcoming the ichor of divinity as he is left alone once more, with all ghosts of the past, his madness and her murdered scorn.

Light My Cigars With Your Gun

Soulless eyes

Stare vexingly right through each other,

The acrid stench of burning flesh

Clinging to the charcoal smother,

As caustic surfaces of ash and embers crackle,

Chortling, singing sniggers to the gun they cradle.

One step, two steps,

They’re circling each other,

Those soulless eyes

Twinkling, dancing with a shadow,

Fingers reaching for the lighter,

Trembling, pulling the harsh trigger,

The cigars of a bygone life begin to shatter,

As soulless eyes

Continue staring at each other.

Cigarettes Are Poems for The Ones Who Never Know

Cigarettes Are Poems for The Ones Who Never Know

Soft vapors of smoke cloud my heart and eyes,

A lonely tear, a grievous sigh,

Smothered slow,

They die…

As sparks of light start littering the sky…

Small bursts of fire, miles away,

They shine.

I stare, inhale, exhale, and wail,

You left, I hushed,

Fleetingly, painfully, withering away.

The shy moon glows,

The embers float,

The silver light turns grey the noxious smoke…

Inhale, exhale,

Five cigarettes have burned,

Five tales of love,

Five poems for the scorned,

The churned,

The ones like me,

The ones who don’t know how to pray,

The ones who never know

How to love

Or what to say.