[x]

appropriately appallingi
the flies are in the food, again.
festering, feeding- because i sewed
shut my lips when you warned me
they were a gaping wound.

silence is the best kind of infection;
you can't know what's kept inside

ii
i carry little girl dreams
of dying and coming back
diseased, depraved, an atrocity;
at least then I'd be something
worth writing home about

i deserve more than what
i am- i am selfish and
greedy, but not strong
enough
to steal a life worth living

(look at me now, mom
i'm growing into the
ugly thoughts i birthed.
i think this is what it must feel like
to finally follow through)

iii
there are things you never say:

diluted evanescencebreezes are fickle things, you said
when your eyes were somewhere far away

the wind danced in the narrow expanse
of all our waning hopes and desires,
and something about the way the air grew static
made me remember a time when
inexperience was still a virtue.

sparks go out, you said
as the discord dimmed
(glossy eyes weren't always
made of glass, but they became
along the line of desperation)

I truly believed the world pulsed somewhere
in the cadence of your voice,
because in your breath- earthquakes would
break and oceans would crash and I always
came up short.

we're living a borrowed life, you said
but no one ever taught u

Poets Always Lieambrosial fabrications are
easier to swallow down when
incandescence is a blessing bestowed
only upon those with silky tongues.

deceptions are beautiful
in the right words

because they are salvation, like a
rapture, they save the sickly,
self-indulgent souls from those
tragedies they used to write on the insides
of childhood notebooks about who
they could never be [themselves]

they rescue them from tremulous
corners and closets, hideaways
where they've grown too akin to
the demons they nurse; and drag
them into a land beautiful enough
to wear light as a second skin

(where lies are never discussed
but always shared)

cl

The Desert RoseWith eyes the colour of the cloudless sky,
And hair like mighty dunes of sand,
She moves elusively and yet with such grace;
It is a dangerous sort of beauty.

Her eyes snap sharply into mine,
Whenever my gaze lingers a second too long.
Her stare traps mine own in place and so
I stay there frozen with fear... or is it awe?

I would love to tell myself
That such a flower is not meant for me,
But I would only be lying to myself
Because I love the thrill of the game.

I truly do admire her spirit,
Like the Great Pyramids it stands tall,
Against all odds,
Never bending an inch...

A fascination overwhelms me even now.
Can I even hope to keep up,
O

You gave me sunset loveShe was grass-stained
with bleeding, bare-foot
dreams,

because she’d always said
that shoes were for porcelain girls
afraid of callous skin.

and she was not fear.
not anymore.

when it crept in on white
manicured edges,
she would make lions of trembling girls,
which craved and devoured
from her temples
a sunset-blossom
love.

You can't hurt me anymore.

Death's Garden (A Short Story)The midday sun hung like a single flaming eye in the burning azure sky. My rough-spun robes of coarse hessian trailed lazily in the dusty sands. I had been walking for hours, and even the sap in my gnarled walking staff seemed to boil in this inhospitable terrain. I paused and sat carefully upon an ancient weather-whipped rock. Every bone in my worn-out body ached and throbbed. I reached for a battered old flask, uncorked the stopper and tipped the contents down my parched throat - nothing. It was empty. Sighing, I slowly stood upward again; sinews and joints groaning and creaking noisy protestations. Lately I was beginning to feel the weight

Four-and-Twenty CultistsSing along everyone - this one's rather jolly! (the rhyming scheme at least).

******

I saw angels dance with devils
under winter's crystal sky.
Old men passed between them,
crying "Dead men never die!"

Then the oceans fell before us,
as the dead began to sing.
Heavens parted wider;
winds prickled at our skin.

Now Satan awakes slowly,
like shadows on the sands.
Together we beg forgiveness,
as he lacerates our hands.

The landscape lies broken,
as stones roll through the hills.
Stars are growing brighter,
fed by blood of untold kills.

Death bends his toxic breath,
exuding nameless streams.
fabricating nightmares
and crimso

Don't you ever forget.Don’t forget the ways
that October skylines light
up cities of lost souls
and suburbs of people
trying to forget themselves.

Don’t forget the ways
that children’s eyes light up
when October sunrises
wake them on Holloween
morning with promises of tricks
and treats.

Don’t forget the ways
that lovers and friends find
each other on cool October
mornings either wrapped up
in October sheets or draped
in darkest nights spent
far apart.

Don’t forget the ways
that my heart beats only for
you and that October day
that we met for the first,
and last,
time in our lives.

Don’t forget the ways
that my heart beats er

Easter Thoughts and ConfessionDoest thou understand the meaning of love?
Doest thou believe it to be but an emotion or sensation ecstasy driven?
Doest thou think it to come in a rush of looks exchanged between the lamps of the soul?
Doest thou wish for it to manifest itself to do but one thing, make thee a human whole?
If this be that which is what thou doth hold to be true then I say to thee, ye know not the true meaning of love real.
Love came in the late hours, born as a child, underneath a star’s announcing from above.
Love grew as a boy in a carpenter’s home, learning from a mother the ways of sacrifice for another, for this is the ways a mother would tea

Hestia's LamentThe world is forgetting how to be gentle
Full of splintered, broken souls
Razor people with razor tongues
And steel through every nerve
They’ve scrawled hatred across the cities
Across the sea and sky and stars
Raised crass and careless Ignorance on a pedestal
And laid laurels on its head

Everyone is watching
Yet no one seems to mourn
Seeking solace in endless bottles
In capsules and gains and blood-debts
Somehow still surprised at the empty world
That cuts at every turn

Us soft-folk
We are bruising
But we are warm in this freezing world

#PVSTW April Tourney: Complete!As many (or none) of you know, next month is :#poetryvstheworld:'s first Writing Tourney!

This Contest will be held under strict Tourney rules, that is to say, tournament form.
There are only 16 positions, so comment on this Journal if you plan to enter; I will give you a randomly generated number. Keep in mind that if you plan on getting to the Finals, you will end up creating 4 pieces of literature for a difficult theme. This is true for every Writing Tourney we will hold.
This month's theme is Humor-Political. Themes are most likely a pair (when we reach further heights, groups of three) of themes that are likely unrelated to each other.
Tourney Rules:

Red Round - Preliminary

Blue Round - Quarter-Finals

Green Round - Semi-Finals

Purple Round - Finals

The numbers are assigned to the contestants. For example, Contestant #1 is assigned to write against Contestant #7. Each round has a different

The Forgotten PrayerYou prayed once that I make you like unto water
Powerful yet subtle, Vast yet humble
Fitting to any container
Defying all definition of form
What you did not realize child,
Is that water has a form:
Ice.
So in answering your prayer,
I saw fit to teach you also integrity.
And so I had to show you what it means
To freeze...
My lovely ice castle,
See how the sun shimmers through
Each unique icicle;
How the dawn reflects
Against your smooth mirror;
How it catches in the hairline cracks,
Drawing lines of light
To greet the new day;
And, child, one day
I will breathe on you
With my heat,
And dissolving like water into air,
You shall be as nothing
A

Dust of EmpathyIn the fragile space of empathy
drawn by the convergence of two
sympathetic strangers

Did I show you my finitude then,
For you to pull out my ugly, shameful
reflection now?

For you to stretch it into a monster
Into a condition
Into an excuse for you to not to look at yourself?

Misrepresentation
Is the fastest way to destroy
Intimacy

Listening requires empathy
I tell you truly
When you shoved your madness on me
I did not feel heard

And yes we all have madness
Which is why I let you see mine
But you twisted my honesty
Into a bead of shame
You wanted to sew into my skin's sleeve
And pull me along on the leash
Of insecurity

Manipulation
Is

Broken Promise after Promise.The sober boulevard

of broken promises;

you still haunt me.

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The Old Argument (SHORT STORY)Baron Von Breakbeat smiled lazily.

"The wonderful thing about being incredibly handsome and frightfully witty is that I can never truly be described as "Evil". Even at their most viciously virulent, the cloying public can only think to crown me a "Byronic Hero", and that hardly hurts my heart! Any good act I perform gets blow up like a bomb, while all my naughty misdemeanors are silently swept under the rug of self-delusion, or else hopelessly romanticised by my blind and ardent worshippers. Really, I can do no wrong...it's impossible."

He leant back upon the silken chaise longue, regarding his visitor complacently.

"You, however..." he s

Mary Sue and The Evil Villain (SHORT STORY)"You'd better look sharp Skargo old chap, or you'll miss your epic scene!"

Lightning raged across the stormy sky, thunder crashed, the earth shook and flailing rain ripped down in lashing torrents. Skargo struggled against the whistling winds, desperately trying to reach the cliff's summit before nature's atmospheric choir abated.

"Skargo you old fool, you should have set off earlier! This is no good, no good at all!"

The rain began to ease, the thunder lost its edge, a ray of sunshine peaked out cheekily from fading clouds. Skargo shook his fist in annoyance. For fourteen years he'd been playing the villain, and very successfully too, but

A Scrap of Story.Augustus, Rake, Top-Hole and Cad-Fish sat in The Rich Assailant's Club. It had been a quiet night and they had reached a point of mild joviality. Cad-Fish sat plumply, adjusting his white silk neckerchief with fumbling deliberation, squinting short-sightedly through his pince-nez. The breast pocket of his exquisite rumpled suit was crammed to capacity with no fewer than five handkerchiefs, all of clashing shades. He selected one at random with a flourish, and began dabbing the end of his rouged nose with great tenderness and care.

"I say" he wheezed at Top-Hole "This is rather first-class, most enjoyable."

Top-Hole nodded vigorously in agre

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The Seraphim of Cobwebbed Halls

by ~Somnolent-Droid, Nov 10, 2012, 9:12:17 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Silently I heard her whispering,
pallid ivory lips soft lisping,
Paper drifting slowly shifting,
from the bedroom's mildewed walls.

In these halls stirs vaguest chanting,
whippoorwills their cries decanting;
psycopomps in midnight sighing,
just outside these mildewed walls.

Huddled forms sprawl stealthily creeping,
countless spiders surging sweeping,
toward the bed where she lies sleeping,
the maiden of these mildewed walls.

Trapped within that pall's mass trembling,
writhes the one I stayed here tending,
all those bleak nights never-ending,
within these wretched mildewed walls.

Blasphemous birds fall shrieking mocking,
through the window thickly flocking,
to snatch the soul of that thing rotting,
my sweet seraphim of cobwebbed halls.

The Seraphim of Cobwebbed Hallsby ~Somnolent-Droid

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Inspired by Poe's Raven and Lovecraft's Dunwich Horror (the bit where Old Whateley dies)

~~love 0 0~~

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

fear 1 1

~~neutral 0 0~~

=AzizrianDaoXrak Dec 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This is just a little note to let you know this fabulous piece has been featured!: [link]

I'd appreciate it if you take a peek at some of the other pieces and fave the article to help support the other artists!

~NotenSMSK Nov 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Ah... Just make it original. Meaning make the story unrelated to any of the above stated works and change a few words that give a prominent hint of inspiration by the Raven... do that and this is a wonderful work.

Just like Poe's Raven, this has a beautiful meter, rhyming, it reads so beautifully when read aloud. I had to read it again and again to enjoy it completely. Then, other than the second stanza, the whole poem was simle to understand with quite a beautiful feel and a matching rhythm and it had an aura of its own. It gave a strange old style feel that few works like the Raven are able to give. Just beautiful!

~Somnolent-Droid Nov 20, 2012

Hey, thanks!

This piece isn't original at all because it's a tribute to Poe - fan art really! The theme is one of Poe's favourites (death of a beautiful woman) and the rhyming scheme is of course heavily influenced by Poe's Raven.
The influence drawn from The Dunwich Horror is quite minimal. It's just the use of whippoorwills as psychopomps, but that pops up in general mythology a lot anyway, and certainly wasn't Lovecraft's own idea. Nevertheless, Lovecraft's Dunwich Horror was the first time I personally came across the idea, so I felt it was only fair to give it credit.

I'm really glad you liked it. Your comments are always very much appreciated. I really love having honest feedback! So thanks again my friend!

~NotenSMSK Nov 20, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You are very welcome and then I will look at it as fan art (which is sad

) and I have been killing many girls in my poems

(perhaps wrong way to say that

) so it is totally a fine idea! The rhyming... well rhyming is just rhyming. It might be criticized as being too similar to Poe's if published (and without adding that it was INDEED influenced by him) but i don't see any other problem otherwise.

Ah... those who creepy works that I didn't get at all ^^ so they are lvoecrafts creation! You are welcome as well

~Somnolent-Droid Nov 20, 2012

Thanks again!

~NotenSMSK Nov 21, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You are welcome

~Will7744 Nov 12, 2012 Professional Writer

didn't need the tag line to see the poe influence - first stanzas a golden hook - nicely done

~Somnolent-Droid Nov 12, 2012

Wow! May thanks for your kind words - they mean so much! Glad you enjoyed it

=KalineReine Nov 12, 2012 Professional Writer

This is absolutely amazing.

I love it. Nice work.

~Somnolent-Droid Nov 12, 2012

Oh wow, many thanks! So glad you enjoyed it

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