Posts Tagged ‘love’

I gaze upon the moon each night,
I sit in the dark,
Staring skyward,
My eyes reach out,
They can’t reach her,
They’re not worthy.

Crescent full or gibbous,
Her dazzling form lights up the dark,
An astral goddess,
An empowering icon,
A source of inspiration,
Playing kiss-chase with the clouds.

So why do I see a second moon beside me each night?
And beside me each day?
A moon of such astronomical beauty,
That it blots out even the lunar goddess,
Earthly yet still heavenly,
A goddess of a different kind.

Then I realize,
You are my second moon,
Superior in every way.

2ndMoon

She is my wild rose,
Crimson like passion,
Beautiful beyond compare,
An angel in all but name,
The kind that stands out effortlessly,
Crimson like rage.

I am tangled in her thorns,
But also her petals,
Crimson like warmth,
Soothing and scathing in equal measure,
Loving and wrathful in duality,
Crimson like blood.

Her lips can wound,
They open burning scars,
But they can heal those same scars,
As if by some magic,
Vibrant and soothing,
Radiant and humbling.

She caresses my weary and cracked lips,
While weathering a tempest,
Standing tall like a bastion,
But holding me like a seraph,
Wise and dependable,
Crimson like love.

I love her,
She is my wild rose.

Wildrose

A true romance,
Blossoming in the summer,
Braving the winter,
Flourishing in the spring,
A picture of passion,
A fine target,
The shotgun is cocked.

A touch of ire,
A whisper of infidelity,
A glimmer of adultery,
All are pulls of the trigger,
A pair of hearts are the targets,
Lined up to be executed,
A true romance no more.

A quarrel,
A kiss,
A flash,
Then silence,
The burst ribcage of love,
And heart-shaped gore,
Are all that remain.

Shotgun

There once was a court jester named Pimm,
Who did not quite much the life given unto him,
Cursed with a family ever so droll,
Our dear Pimm did elope,
Filled with vigor and hope,
While his family were eaten alive by a troll.

He found employ with a petty king,
King Rodric marveled at Pimms idyllic linguistic strings,
Pimm amused his court with elegant canticles and absurd dances,
He garnered attention from all of the court,
A fair lady did fawn as he did cavort,
Seeing our Pimms dramas as romantic advances.

The fair lady was alluring without compare,
But a dreadful madness her mind did ensnare,
Our clever Pimm her advances he did rebuff,
Pimms rationale was pure and warm,
Yet her bitter mind conjured a dire storm,
She would have her revenge sure enough.

A horrendous plot the lady did concoct,
She would see our Pimm beaten and mocked,
Her fellow courtiers she did poison against him,
His majesty Rodric was next to succumb to her lingual blight,
Enmity and distrust against our Pimm did alight,
A short life of torch and pitchfork awaited our poor Pimm.

Innocent Pimm had to go into hiding,
The kings men were close to finding where Pimm was residing,
All hope was surely gone for good,
Our Pimm gripped that which would give him release,
A self-destructive blade to cause his misery to cease,
I would end on a joyous note if i only could.

Dirge

Hate me not for my cowardice.
Hate me not for me gutlessness.
Hate me not for my shoddy aim,
Nor my quick feet.

Hate me not for my surrender.
Hate me not for my skyward hands.
Hate me not for my lost friends,
Nor my guiltless enemy.

Hate me not for my treason.
Hate me not for failing my nation.
Hate me not for refusing to kill,
Nor dropping my gun.

Hate me for my white flag.
Hate me for retaining my love.
Hate me for siding with my conscience,
And keeping my humanity intact.

So-called courageous and heroic souls,
Can you say the same?

Coward

That thing there?
That fetid and putrid thing there?
That stinking sack of necrosis?
That rotting monstrosity?
That musty cadaverous creature?
That insult to the senses?
You want to know about it?

That’s one of the writing dead.
See how it feebly grips the quill,
Rotting hands writing reams of scripture,
In this sacred crypt-cum-factory,
Soul-less eyes barely keeping track.
We constructed this abominations from our dead,
As hopeless in death as in life.

You see them now?
Rows upon rows of scribbling cadavers,
At oaken desks built from coffins,
Rotting in harmony with one another,
Decomposing guts spilling to the floor,
Skin decaying and yellow,
Scratching parchment in concert.

What do they write?
Further death sentences of course!
A most unholy charge,
Perfect for these unholy beasts,
Devoid of mind and soul,
Bereft of emotion and morality,
Without hope or aspiration.

I hate this one in particular,
This disgusting shell of a life,
I loathe its dead adoring face,
I despise its silver locks,
I abhor its stunted form,
I knew it in life,
It once called me Father…

Writingdead

I am hers,
And she will be mine.

I gaze upon her countenance nightly.
I worship her glowing radiance,
I marvel at her saintly luminosity,
I dote on every chilling whisper,
I cherish her mysterious embrace,
I admire her womanly curves.

I am hers,
And she will be mine.

Bah!
I speak not of some humble woman,
But of the grandest beauty in this mortal coil,
See how she watches over us,
Even as the treacherous sun turns its back.
If only I could caress her.

I am hers,
And she will be mine.

This void betwixt won’t keep us apart forever!
I’ll tear the very heavens down to kiss you,
To bask in your lunar glare,
To massage your crater-strewn form,
To take a place in the cold beside you,
To waltz in orbit with you.

I am hers,
And she is mine.
Or else.

Moonlight

Cannheart

This was an easy meal,
One little swipe of a blade,
She fell like a lead balloon,
Utterly feeble,
Utterly pathetic,
Utterly delectable.
Oh, i have been so hungry since the last one.

Hello, remember me?
Your humanity?

Cannibal they call me.
Viperous monster and pitiable freak.
Man-eater and defiler.
They must be right,
I can’t deny humanity is one hell of a meal.
I’ve never loved anyone who wasn’t to become a morsel.

This one is different…
This one is perfect…

A delicious bloody sauce keeps the meat succulent.
The ribcage splits easily enough,
Revealing that most enticing of meats,
The beating center of my meal,
The epicenter of love,
She hardly needs it anymore.

Yes, she does!
This girl loved someone…
She may have even loved you…

I take my prize in my bloody hands,
Raise it to my face,
It’s still beating rebelliously.
My fangs ready to pounce.
My demonic eyes set on the beautiful beating bounty.
Saliva drooping like vines.

Stop!
What are you doing?!
You loved this girl!

I pause,
Almost against my own will.
I can’t bring myself to feast on this comestible.
What have i done?
What have i been doing?
I knew this heart.
I loved this heart.
No…

You remember now?
Before you became this monster…
You did love her…
She loved you…
She was your cannibal heart.

3hearts

A woman,
A shrewd lady,
Fair of heart and strong of mind,
Mighty conviction and elegant features.
A loving wife and a better mother.
Torn in three by her three hearts,
Her three secrets,
Her dark trinity.

One heart for her faith,
Intolerant and genocidal as it is.
Her church preaches nothing but hate,
Her holy book preaches distorted lies,
Her priest preaches nothing but rancor.
But she is a pious woman,
She loves her faith.

One heart for her hidden addiction,
Her adoration for absinthe and the needle.
It alleviates the stress of a hard family life.
The absinthe helps her sleep,
The narcotics free her mind,
It lessens the mental trauma,
She loves her hidden addiction.

And one heart for her paramour,
She’s a secret adulteress you know,
Her husband doesn’t truly perform,
He doesn’t satisfy,
Her lover is everything she ever wished for,
He’s caring, sensual and vigorous,
Everything her husband is not.
She loves her paramour.

These three hearts would be a betrayal to anyone else,
They’d be considered sins,
She’d be a bigot, addict and a whore,
But they are what she needs to live,
They get her through the day,
They keep her living and breathing.
Her three hearts beat in secret,
So she can live.

I just want to take a minute to wish my most lovely girlfriend Lee a very happy birthday! You are an inspiration to me.

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I loooooooove you! (Even if you are a numpty!)