I'm a Ghost in the snow.
Never finding warmth
I have no life,
I have no soul.
I'm damaged, and broken.
Nothing can fix me.
But I need you to try.
Help this Ghost.
Melt the snow.
-Dead Inside-There's nothing left of her,
She and the unborn son taken.
I held her hand
As she went unto the Fade.
I held her hand
As her body cooled.
I saw red,
Leaving me but a Shade.
I saw red,
As her blood pooled.
Vengeance is mine.
He has been sent to Hell.
I will be fine.
Before you ask, All will not be well.
Forever and Always, I am Dead.
-Wings of Blood, Wings of Steel-I stand proud and strong.
Loyal to my beliefs,
I strike at my enemies with
Unrelenting wrath and fury.
I am the vengeful hammer,
Defending my lord's land.
From without and from within.
None are spared my flashing blade
My steel gaze pierces even the most
Sturdy of souls.
Fear me, for I slay on wings of blood.
Love me, for I fly on wings of steel.
-Sanguine Haze-Walking among the sanguine graves
Statues of Angels cry blood
Can't see beyond this Crimson Haze
Cathedral ruin, Stone rubble, Broken stained glass
Rusted black gate, can it... will it open?
Oaken doors, large, engraved with demons and angels, Off it's hinges
Stone benches, Stone altar, black cloth
A stairway? Going down, getting colder
Dark air, Suffocating chill, no walls
No ceiling. Void. A landing, another iron gate
Dead end? No... Eyes, of Garnet, of Amethyst
Staring at me, watching me. Blades of bone.
A roar. Then nothingness.
-Blood Red Snow-My scars, crimson red and deep.
My eyes, cerulean blue and clear.
Despite my beauty I can not match
The beauty of blood red snow
My love for life is like that snow
A chilling fire, a burning cold.
I see a lake amongst the white trees
A lake that's waters are as red as my scars
Help me escape this beautiful, horrifying place.
Give warmth to the fires in my heart,
Before I become the Blood Red Snow.
-Angel Wings-No one knows who I am.
Not even I know who I wish to be.
Past lives, Dreams? Memories?
I smell trees, rain, the earth, blood, death..
The scent excites me, pulse racing.
I long for blood against my tongue.
I yearn for the scent of fear.
Pure, light, Your angel wings
Let me burn them to dust.
let me breathe deep your pain.
I taste your lust from here.
No rhythm, no rhyme
-Waters-Grey waters, to match a Grey sky
Grey sky, to match a Grey day
Grey day to match a Grey mood
Mourning a time spent in mine paradise
The day, mood, sky, and waters seem to mourn with me
As if, I started to cry, so too would the clouds open
to release the rain, and flood the earth
Sorrow; choking, drowning, suffocating, and mine.
As I stare into the waters.
Grey waters, to match a Grey mood.
-Spark Of Light-The daemons within my chest laugh
As they tear my soul, shred my heart
The daemons laugh as I am taken away from you
my love, my life, my happiness
I miss you, though we had just parted
All my life I've been blinded by shadows
until I got to hold you in my arms
A spark of Light...
You are my Sun, disperser of the night
I've waited my entire life to bask in your rays
All the world is waiting for the Sun
To lie here under you is all that I can do
The daemons wail as I think of you
Wail as they are denied my sorrow
You, my family, have always been
My spark of light, in the darkness
-But A Man-I am but a man.
Not a beast, nor a dragon
Man, with flaws, fears
not claws, nor fangs
A pretender, with a facade
An ego which doesn't exist
Confidence, that's not shared.
I love, as any man.
I cry, as any man
Yet I am no one.
Nameless face in a sea of faces
Faceless name in a land of names
I am but a man.
Who doesn't exist.
-Untitled-Lost in a world of doubt and deception,
Shadows block the light, until you came.
You shine light that cuts through the darkness
like a knife through flesh.
Blood seeps from the shadows
Blood tainted by darkness.
My own liquid of life...
Heal my wounds, Take away my pain.
I shall do the same for you.
My rozeta frumos.
My inger frumos.
Te iubesc, Truly with all my heart.
lady macbeth remembers her motheri was her kindling, my teeth
set the spark. all i do remember
is the trembling.
they say that once born, once raised to suckle
from my mother's flaccid breast,
i chewed so violently at the bit of life
that i brought blood.
they say that i would not be pulled away at first,
squalling like a small animal mangled,
pink petal lips demanding gore.
my mother's touch was gentle henceforth,
her fingers ghosted with flour
twirling themselves in my hair.
she held me as a dove. an egg.
she supposed love could cure me,
serve a balm to the black devil warts
on my soul. here, a spot of sunshine.
here, the grains of sugar held out to me
on her fingertip. she called me angel
and found the shrunken bodies of the flowers
uprooted. she called me precious
and found the mice, fetal and unblinking,
underneath my pillow.
her love might have worked,
had i not seen, each time she turned,
each time her eyes first found me in a room,
the glassy fear that she then tucked away inside her
ma merei think my mother thinks i'm blind,
that i see only my own faults
and forget the fractures in her composure,
the fissures in her failing heart
that keep her awake at night.
i fear she thinks i do not see the strength in her scars.
i think my mother thinks i'm deaf,
that i cannot hear her silent sadness;
it has always echoed
in the halls of this family home.
maybe she thinks i do not hear the wisdom in her words.
i think my mother thinks i'm numb,
that i do not feel
the eternal love in every touch;
i know with absolute certainty
that no one
will ever love me
like my mother does.
every hug is a blessing that brings me home.
but maybe, my mother has it twisted.
i'd do anything for her to see the beauty in being faulted,
to know she hears me when i say 'i love you',
and be assured she feels my heart when i hug her back.
Stunning, the message
Outrageous to the knowing
Superb, the technique
Hilarious to the informed
Master of his Art
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
SapiosexualI don’t know what I’ll do
when the first fistful
of dirt hits the bottom.
Maybe I’ll follow you to the grave.
Or maybe I’ll pray
for a zombie apocalypse,
so we can dine on each
other’s brains one more time.
waters worry the pristine
sand, washing blank paper
into a bevy of tidepools.
The hush of the surge whispers
its song into conch shells;
the tinge of brine mingles
with coconut milk and dried
seaweed clumping the beach.
Hermit crabs dot the strand
like constellations, waiting
for soothsayers to read meaning
into their trails before the waves
wash them away like comets.
Deep in the stillness,
I wander but a ghost thru mists of shadow & sanguine ..
And the trees bathe in the mystique of Night’s serenade
Covet thee my love immortal,
for we are hunters of a dream untamed;
poetry bleeding into the abyss ...
Candle whispers drink a sky of wine, unto where I sojourn —
in the caress of your lips, and ache of darkest Moon
— Arthur Crow © 2013