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Gently rockingGently rocking with this pain
a little baby in black satin
close to my heart
but keen enough
to kill me.
TendrilsThe smoky tendrils of the past
stretch like long arms
with groping angry
They really have no way
of touching you.
They curl and stretch
and come so close,
but they evaporate
before they reach
where you stand.
An invisible wall divides you
from all of the past
(and even all the future)
and anything that is here
is only an echo
or sometimes an echo of an echo of an echo;
less than a ghost.
If the echo is bad enough,
it seems to fill your present completely.
It is only an echo.
The present has no place
of its own.
it is rewritten every single second of
every single day.
on its own
a beautiful blank page
to be drawn and redrawn,
created and recreated
over and over
The echos span the generations
but nothing can take away
that you stand
alone and proud
in your own present,
your own reality.
It's coming for youWorried, walking, worried, walking.
Walking faster. Stopping. Turning. Listening.
Walking. Listening. Starting to run. clickety, clack, clickety, clack.
Stopping to take off high heals. Running faster in soft feet.
Running. Running. Looking back. Panting. Running faster. Running faster.
Slowing. Leaning against wall. Panting. Looking all around. All around. Quiet street.
Tin can sounds in alley. Walking softly. Looking all around, looking all around.
Hand reaches out and grabs. No breathing, no breathing. Heart pounding.
Feet dragging, dragging. Fighting. Still dragging.
Sleeping like the deadShe is always weirded out by spiders. They run too damn fast.
Their legs are spindly and black and pointy. Just something so wrong about that.
There shouldn't be anything in this world that exists small, that would be horrific if made large.
He loves bugs. All kinds of bugs. Big, small, green, black. Crunchy ones are best. The ones
that when stepped on make a nice cracking sound and spew guts.
That's what he loves.
She cannot sleep. Not much. Not easily.
She sees arms reaching toward her in the dark. Always in that stage
right before she falls asleep. The bridge to sleep is blocked by
He sleeps like a log, especially after a kill. Always after a kill. The warmer the blood,
the slower the death, the more pitiful the cries for mercy, the better the sleep.
It never ceases to amaze him.
The power of murder.
The smell of autumn comforts her. The cool breeze soothes as the curtains flow outward.
The full moon shines in and she cannot see spider
flutter then stir
stretch and flex
roar and purr.
reach outward, unfurl
find wind and lift
black, red and gold
See? They are there!
All along you could fly
Go conquer and destroy
Let them try and stop you now
If they dare.
Killing pain with lightPoison secrets
brood and fester
lacerate and shred
breed in the dark
burn like acid.
Until one day
you open your mouth
(or your keyboard)
and jettison them,
some cannot see,
but the ones who know
--who really know--
they will set you free
from the secrets
Can't have itYou want it.
Don't lie and say you don't.
You want it.
You want to rip the crepe paper
You want to stab my birthday cake
You want to pop the balloons and make the children
After all these years
after all this time
after all this while
i can finally say
You can't have it.
Guardian AngelSongs of the wind ring silently
Through the quite dark night.
Only the moon with bright gleam
Lights you in golden splendor.
When you stand calm at your window,
And you look up to the starlight,
You feel deep in your heart
That you will never be alone.
Angels hover through the air,
Lay their smooth arms gently
Around your shoulder in affection
And hold you tight and warm.
They dry quiet your burning tears,
Bring you a bright light.
With respect and full amazement
You hear how your guardian angel speaks softly.
I will always protect you
When your heart weeps desperately.
Deep in your heart you will feel
That man and angel are joined.
Angels Guide Your WayAngels heal your wounds.
During the night in your tearful hours
They put their wings tender and warm
Around your shoulders like an arm.
You will feel peace in you,
Calmness that enters the heart.
He will softly touch the soul
So that grief flees silently.
He soothes quietly with gentle hand
Scars that still burn in you,
Then you will recognize happiness as well.
This has found its way to you today.
Hope will carry you with a smile
Faith will lead you to the light.
Close your eyes without questions,
Feel the confidence in you.
Angels guide your way,
No matter where your step leads you to.
When you cross narrow paths
You will feel how he touches you softly.
Your Loyal GuardianHe holds your doom in his hand,
Protects you, without tarrying,
Knots with you a bond of trust,
Accompanies you in dreams.
Guiding your way on
Safe paths at any time,
He will endow you with
Prudence and honesty.
You only become aware of him
In hopeless hours,
In the view of greatest danger,
Which you have overcome.
Also in your deepest dream
He will never tell you his name,
Floating between time and space,
You will still recognize him.
Patiently, he looks down on you,
And guards your well-being,
Tries always, again and again
To preserve you from evil sins.
He is an exact image of you
And lives in your heart,
Receives hardly a thanks for it,
Helps you with mental suffering.
A being from paradise –
It can only be –
Embedded gentle in dream-land sweet -
Your guardian angel.
October Full MoonYour blood-red fruit in the sky let my soul flow,
You draw me slowly to yearning distances,
And while the crows’ croaks echo on foggy fields,
I travel to the stars, full of nostalgia.
The wind in the willows whistles with sorrowful flute tune,
And while I follow you to the destinations of our dreams,
I cast a glance at the scenery full of fruits.
From the depth of the earth, song and whisper raise.
Our love was already gone before it began.
I could only search but I never found you.
The sand of the hourglass vanished between our hands,
I had to get over the unavoidable farewell.
The gossamers of past dreams
Cover my thoughts like a web.
They make the brown-colored leafless trees shake
As well as my walk.
October full moon, take me with you on the journey.
Help me to fly to the other side of summer.
In a magical, eternal way
You and I will walk together under the fresh green leaves.
Weeping WillowI feel the warmth of a summer day –
The sky so wonderful in blue,
The grass in saturated green.
Step by step
I come to meet you.
Along the way
So many thoughts,
So many words in my head.
The stony way becomes shorter
And I see you approaching.
To my left
The blue lake in which you are reflected.
I touch your leaves.
Weeping willow... Oh, weeping willo ... do you feel me?
Do you feel the scars burning me?
Please remove it!
I thank you!
Weeping willow... Oh, weeping willow... do you see me?
Do you see my silent tears?
Please take them away!
I thank you!
Weeping willow... Oh, weeping willow... do you understand me?
Do you recognize my courage?
Please support me!
I thank you!
You stand at the lake,
So quiet and calm –
For me it is a place so peaceful and wise.
You seem to be full of sorrow,
But this picture is an illusion.
Weeping willow... Oh, weeping willow...
You are my hold.
With you it never gets cold
In this world.
Your foliage hangs down sadly,
But it serves as
Who You LoveI wish I could see
into the darker corners of your mind
as easily as you seem
to do so with me; I am a book
with expression printed
on the pages of my skin that fold
between your tongue moistened thumbs.
forms another shape of you,
each stroke of punctuation
mirrors the curves
of your ever-glorious figure,
and I am pressed hard
in blackened ink
that lingers on your skin in the same way
has taken claim of my lips.
I dream of you,
the way your hand feels in mine,
the way your almond eyes
become pools of golden wheat
with my palms against your cheeks.
I long to lay upon the grass,
a speck beneath the stars,
and tell every passerby of my love,
of your wonder,
of the everything I long to give you.
Do I sway into your thoughts
the way you dance into mine?
The shadow of your figure,
like the trembling glow of a candle,
too bright to deny,
too hot to place my hands upon.
Do you love
with the same insatiable passion
that surges through me,
that pours out
last edge turn
Staring this demon dead on
Drifting in peace and life just passes
Body painted in defiance
Apparell of destruction
Outside of normality,
Music's a drug
and it will be my catalyst
I WishI wish
One day, the past will leave me be.
Crawl back into the shadows
Release its hold on me.
One day, I can hold my head up high.
Ignoring the cruel remarks
That make me want to curl up and cry.
One day, the pain will fade.
The constant ache in both heart and body
So I won't always be afraid.
One day, everybody can get along.
Mom and Dad won't fight anymore
And everyone can feel like they belong.
One day, I won't want to die.
But there's so much suffering
Why should I even try?
But most of all
I wish for a friend
Someone who is caring.
Someone who is loyal.
Someone who is kind.
One day, I will have a friend.
Someone whom I can trust
Someone who won't pretend.
Not The SameMy muse, pass me the pen,
It is time to write to her again.
She sealed a luck charm to my heart,
She is the spirit of my art:
About the future I do not worry,
For what I lost I am not sorry,
But you my former friend of heart,
I see, in my life you still have a part.
I tried to forget you: I did and I’m free,
You are not like before burning me.
With the fact that I lost I can cope,
But there is still time to cut the rope.
The World I lived in had finally ended,
A new one was born, from ash it ascended.
You brought it all down and I am grateful,
To you, my dear, I will stay fateful.
Alas, the feeling is not the same,
For this change only I am to blame,
Goodbye and hello my precious dame!
Vanguard, Chapter 1: DuncanDuncan's Journal: Day 1288
I consider myself a good man. I respect women, elders, my equals, and the dead. I say a morning prayer, and an evening one. Hell, I even thank the gods for a meal, instead of immediately chowing down in the voracious manner as the other soldiers here do. By all logical means, I should be in paradise. No really, not just because I'm a good man, but also because I should be dead by now. So I ask myself: why, oh gods up there, have I ended up in hell?
1288 days. 1288 days of my life have been spent in this misery, and I'm beginning to lose faith in the glory I was promised. Some of the rookies still live in their ignorant bliss, but I've lived long enough to realize that there's not much glory to find here. “Sing the songs of glory and march into battle—-join The Crusade today!”. Such were the words of the posters The Crusade has spread all over The Mortal Realm. Gullible fools practically stand in line for these songs of glory that th
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