Tag Archives: nature

A thousand daggers

Awake in my dreams
The burning flames on my skin
Falls rugs of flesh from my bones

My soul is a wooden bird
Hollow,
And never flies

Standing on a windowsill,
Watching the sky and it’s kites
The sun and her moon

With the stars forever far,
The sound of a winding clock
Came a shade of a dark cloud

A young sparrow she was
Onto my windowsill
With a melody of a dawning spring

That life felt complete
Just a moment to last
But a moment too short

Watching the last of her wings
Flapping into the yellow of a young sun
The last petal of a red rose

And I became lost of my heart
With a thousand daggers through its veins
Bleeding a love that never was

Phantoms

The demon in me
Check the shell and spill it’s secrets
Like and egg on a bare rock,
Before the sun for the world to see

The mind is an inferno
Ballads of the dead echo
Within the classics of the ancient
The winding chains around my heart

Pour me some blood
Quench this lust
And sooth my lust
The loins of a young maiden I long

To feel the warmth of her skin
With the sweat running on my back
Her veins pumped on her neck
And my fangs flashing in the moonlight

The death of flower
Withering with each kiss
Lies another body on my chest
The phantoms in my dreams

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Movie

Filth stenches
Air cold
Whiskers weighed,
By the tiny pearls of a mountain dew
Tramples heavy feet on a bare rock

If the path of a soul is a lost one,
Purpose is to gods
And wondering is to the moon
Across a dark sky,
Searching rays of the morning star

The peak is a horizon
Moving it’s walls as one strides closer
Caught in a bubble of life,
Life a movie
Playing along a runtime

Blood on the grass

Flames light inside
Thirst runs deep
A wanting to want you

Veils of lust
Scatter petals of blood red
Smoke essence of painted daisies

A six and a nine,
A heaven and a seven
A beautiful dungeon

Smell the flower of youth
Fine berries dripping honey
A warm skin washed in a bath of milk

A harmony of forest sparrows
Pants wolves under a full moon,
The blood of a deer,
On a blade of a virgin grass

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I don’t wanna die

Loyalty and honesty
Pledge the heart on a stab
Is it fear or survival?

As I slept,
The world calmed,
And the shadows disappeared

When I awoke,
The winds roared,
Squeaking sheets on the roof

He accepts mortality
Unchained from its ghosts,
And dines with the present

The roses in the park,
Unfeigned smiles he sees,
enjoying the colours of the young moon

I run he stands,
The mysteries of my life,
Archives, he loves to read

I love to fear
He loves to dare
We live to love

This life,
The truth of the eye
What to happen in the next second?

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One and six

When hearts bleed pain from unfulfilled dreams, but positive to not fall prey into the dark, the world between.

The divine play heads and tails. They pump up our little hearts with fantasies, only to watch the dice roll without a say.

The six talks down to a one, “you are so small.” “Could it be that you are foolish?”
If the strong reigns with arrogance, and the weak must comb his moustache, then the dice is biased.

So the one plots for a takeover. For not all that is small is small. And wisdom befits it not to feast on wine and bread alone, but also on water and a single grain.

He takes a small wooden boat with an oar to travel an unknown sea. If dreams walk the sky, then “I will cross the sea”.

A natural six slanders with his tongue. Leaning heavily on his past, he rebuffs the future.

Not a one, a two, or a six can control tomorrow. But all wield symbols of hope to watch the next sunrise.

So it can be anything. And what happens when we get there?

If for the wrong reasons one finds victory, then for the right reasons one is doomed in silence, sadness, and enlightenment may be. And likewise, for the right reasons, a victory grasped is happiness for life.

So empty hearts know not the ways of love but hate. If gratification is one’s soul aim, then whine not if a gold cup is still a cup or rather one is too sick to enjoy the bounties of one’s hunt.
For on the six’s island, greed is still greed and kindness is kindness just like on the one’s main land.

The hymns of happiness are heard by all ears but listened to by fine ears of propriety.
The rains fall on all but the strong withstand the cold and the fright of lightening. And this journey is an endless one until we lay beneath the covers of the earth.

A superior man cherishes life, his and the others. Watching closely the web that turns events, he keeps an eye on the shadow of his neighbour so to send alarm to his peer when trouble hits; and his tongue he guards to never erase that shadow

The blessed are filled of life and wisdom to distinguish bad from wrong; They bless and heal the broken

For what is right is right, not for a good reward or punishment aligned; but for the greater web that guides all.

Not too big or too small, but equality steering evolution from the past to the moon; the one and the six, both equality important.

The superior man will applaud folly of a mad man when they will read with their eyes and not, their mind’s eye

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