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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 warmth of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment before I heard 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 first 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.
Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.
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.
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.

 
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More from ~arcainwolf

Just another lifeBorn like most,
an average boy,
nothing to boast,
still alot of joy.

an age to play,
no one seems dull,
thoughts aren't grey
but very colorful.

You show me my place,
a threat with broken glass,
you'd cut my face
in front of this mass.

malfunctioning brain,
nerves shutting down,
starting to go insane.
Closing darkness, prepare to drown.

I close my mouth first,
then my eyes and ears.
You're definitely the worst
of all my fears.

On this theatre of life,
I'm playing mime,
closing myself from others.
Can't help myself this time.

Trusting people another day,
my heart bruised, left unspoken.
Am I afraid to say
It's already
Tear behind the maskOh how i would like to cry,
just simply letting my tears flow.
But they don't let me even try,
crying away regrets and sorrow.

It's something you can't avert.
Be a man, they used to say
don't show that you're hurt.
It hurts, when does it go away?

Depressing thoughts blurring my mind.
Imagining things that aren't real.
I'm slowly turning deaf and blind.
Is this something i need to conceal?

So i try this again today,
holding up this mask of deceipt.
True feelings fade astray,
coming so close to another defeat.

Still i keep holding on,
I have more stuff to write.
Giving all of me until i'm gone.
Don't worry you will be alrigh
New yearsaturday 1/1/'11

Dear diary,

New year, new start
with love so deep
here's my heart,
it's yours to keep.

2011, Benny Temmerman
Lost my heartSometimes when you're young.
Having moments of such happiness.
A place so magical, nothing wrong.
It must have been Atlantis.

Where two leave their hearts,
in a haven protected.
Hand in hand, returning homewards,
eyes with love reflected.

But she didn't trust,
her heart near his.
Being affraid, not of disgust,
but of losing this bliss.

His love never ending,
but she didn't show.
This wound isn't mending
and she just let go.

He lost his heart,
to this girl so special.
Ripping his soul apart.
Luckily it wasn't fatal.

Ending this poem,
with the worst part.
Seeing another victim.
Running with her heart.

Featured in Groups:

:iconpoets-refuge: #Poets-Refuge
Poetry Poem Refuge Poets-Refuge :iconispirare: #Ispirare
 :iconpoems-breathe-life: #Poems-Breathe-Life
Breathing words, not air. :iconsouls-of-artists: #souls-of-artists
Art is a window to your soul

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January 29, 2011
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[x]

levels of rage

:iconarcainwolf:

the 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 fight
better to prevent than to cure
remember this the next time you ignite
:iconarcainwolf:
first of all, stages of rage,
3rd and 4th are in the middle of the fight, as in the poem the lines are short. same as in a real fight you're thoughts are short, you react on small bits of reality trying to get the most important things around you.

different styles of rhyme too:

before the fight
1st and 2nd level: first word and last word rhymes in each sentence.
thoughts are clear, normal reactions
the fight
3rd and 4th level: only last word rhymes
you make a decision on what's important, all the rest doesn't matter anymore
after the fight
5th level: aabb rhymes
6th level: abab rhymes
after the fight you get the feeling of YES I WON! but also shit what happened, a bit confused

what do you think about it?
simple poem, yet a bit complicated on the form.
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:iconwarriorfanatic99:
~Warriorfanatic99 Jan 29, 2011
I know rage very well. I have problems. This is beautiful, though. Love it. :heart:
Reply
:iconarcainwolf:
~arcainwolf Jan 30, 2011
thanks alot and yes it's very difficult to hold it in control.. :)
Reply
:iconwarriorfanatic99:
~Warriorfanatic99 Jan 30, 2011
:) No problem, and yes, it is.
I have a poem in my gallery I think is called Leave Now explaining my uncontrollable spurts of anger~
Reply
:iconarcainwolf:
~arcainwolf Jan 31, 2011
gonna read it when i get back :D
Reply
:iconwarriorfanatic99:
~Warriorfanatic99 Jan 31, 2011
:D
Kay
Reply
:iconilike2draw:
~ilike2draw Jan 29, 2011   Writer
I definitely liked the form of this. It was a very unique way to do it. Well done. :)
Reply
:iconarcainwolf:
~arcainwolf Jan 29, 2011
thank you :D
Reply
:iconilike2draw:
~ilike2draw Jan 29, 2011   Writer
You're welcome. :)
Reply
:iconninosuateftw:
~NinosuateFTW Jan 29, 2011
Great~.
C:

(Just to let you know, you missed the 'g' at the end of 'beginning' under the fifth level of rage. ^^)
Reply
:iconarcainwolf:
~arcainwolf Jan 29, 2011
thanks alot :D it has been corrected ^^
ty again :3
Reply
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