[x]

AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.

lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."

The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along

Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for?
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude

False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen

ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).

False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.

False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for

Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.

VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire

WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.

Lovers and assassinsNight
walk

bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.

HumanDear Hypocrite,

What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.

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10 things I love about youI love your style,
  you complete mine.
I love your smile,
  a lovely sign.

I love your thighs,
  They're mine to keep.
I love your eyes,
  so warm and deep.

I love your choice,
  my love is free.
I love your voice,
  singing a song to me.

I love your hair,
  a blossom scent.
I love your care,
  a true friend.

I love your behind,
  with curves so lovely.
I love your mind,
  my sagacious beauty.

2011, Benny Temmerman

levels of ragethe first level of rage

observing my environment
picking up every scent
analyzing all content
reacting to prevent

the second level of rage

something is not right
figuring out the blight
thinking about fleeing tonight
preparing to engage the fight

the third level of rage

time is ticking
adrenaline is rushing
skin is glowing
anger is growing

the fourth level of rage

fists are pumping
scars are burning
limbs are numbing
thoughts are blurring

the fifth level of rage

Ending the fight
beginning the fright
selfrespect is degrading
sorrow is covering

the sixth level of rage

opponent lying on the floor
yet you've lost the fi

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Submitted: January 1, 2011
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[x]

I'm only human

by ~arcainwolf, Jan 1, 2011, 4:10:49 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Humans love to see,
others in pain and hurt.
Taken by a killing spree,
kids crawling through the dirt.

People turning blind,
surrounded by darkness.
Scared and left behind,
running around so anxious.

The sound is gone,
checking each ear.
Keep yelling, until dawn,
but they will never hear.

A cold chill to the core.
Little kids suffocating.
Lack of oxygen or
is the water overtaking?

Lone souls in bane.
Pushed through hell.
Cutting another vein,
hurting friends as well

Just that click.
You lost control.
Destroyed, brick by brick.
Lost thoughts, dwelling soul.

Filled with anger
cause you're going numb.
Can't move a finger,
not even a thumb.

Declared as a sadist,
just a state of mind.
Not fit for a therapist.
A total loss of mankind.

After all, In the end,
all memories go away.
Remember me as a friend,
I don't want to fade astray.

2010, Benny Temmerman

I'm only humanby ~arcainwolf

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

a poem filled with fear,

- mass kill
- going blind
- going deaf
- suffocating/drowning
- suicide by bullying
- goin insane
- paralyzed
- sadism
- being forgotten

what are you affraid of? what are your biggest fears?

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~007Balel Jan 3, 2011 Student Writer

I love the main aspect of fear that you present through this poem.
It is like each stanza increases the intensity of the fear... leaving you breathless (in a good way )
Great job

~arcainwolf Jan 3, 2011

thanks

~007Balel Jan 4, 2011 Student Writer

You're welcome

~athenaaqua Jan 1, 2011

Deep seated fear of...is it called phobophobism? Also, fly into fits of rage when I detect bs. On the other hand....sheesh. happy new year

~arcainwolf Jan 2, 2011

what are you?
this is like the most complicated comment ever to decode!

take care and a happy easter for you too!

~athenaaqua Jan 7, 2011

Ditto

~EisaShultzie Jan 1, 2011 Writer

this is an amazing piece.. it's deep and profound, and I think you pulled it off well.

you have one little error in this stanza:

"Lone souls in bane.
Pushed through hell.
Cutting another vein,
hurting friends aswell"
I would put a space in "aswell" so that it's "as" and "well".

Other than that, it's amazing! Great job!
Keep on writing, and Don't forget to be awesome!
EisaShultzie

~arcainwolf Jan 2, 2011

Thank you so much for your comment!
and thanks for correcting!
i'll adjust it in a minute,
as i want to say sorry, english is not my main language

thanks again!

`MagicalJoey Jan 1, 2011 Writer

I like the way each stanza is full of the fear and adds to the whole poem yet can stand on its own.

~arcainwolf Jan 1, 2011

thank you for your kind words

just trying my best, as english is not my main language

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