Category Archives: Writing

Traveler

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Solitude – deadpoet88

~*~*~

I am but a traveler
Spinning through time
Without innocence, yet naive
An aimless wanderer,
A vagabond of spirit
Stripped of all sanity

I know not what I long for
Nor do I seek out what I need
For pride, my marionettist
Won’t cut the threads that control me
And my psyche longs to rebel
For it has tasted a bite of freedom

None know I have a depraved heart
For a smile is all they see
My deceptions run too deep
And one cannot discern the difference
Between genuine emotion
And dark lies inside of me

For my heart’s a forlorn passenger
The world its broken spine
Forgotten in the midst of
The light for which I pine
Drowning me in despair
Watching as the air bubbles float to the surface

I am but a traveler
Is this all there is to life?

~*~*~

The Storm at the Horizon

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The Storm at the Horizon – deadpoet88

~*~*~

I have waited for what feels like a thousand years
For the storm to arrive
It hovers nonchalantly at the horizon
Waiting, like a lion hidden in the tall grass,
For the opportune moment to strike

The air has become so thick with moisture
So heavy, almost droopy-eyed
The darkened rain falls relentless in the distance
Too evanescent for form to take on any meaning
Like a thought that flutters and then passes by

The storm quivers, like an arrow held by an unsteady hand
The lightning, a jagged line that splits open the sky
The world flashes white for the fraction of a moment
And I hold my breath, silently waiting
For the thunder clap that never reaches these ears of mine

The wind picks up, almost as if the air itself fears the storm’s coming
The once fallen leaves swirl in their wistful dance
Beckoning, almost daring the storm to wander nearer
And then I know in a moment of crystal clarity
The storm has passed, almost as soon as it began

~*~*~

Blindly Walking

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Here’s an old post I found on another one of my blogs. Somehow I just love how this ends, so I thought I’d post it here.

~*~*~

I am walking blindly
Looking nowhere
Knowing nothing,
But I am not lost
For there is nowhere
That I want to be
There is no place
To which I am going.

I had come
To know myself
As the road wound
Round and round
There were rare
Glimpses of good
But more a mask
I wore than true skin
For I had to hide
My beloved ugliness.

My dark deception
Led more astray
For a mask
Is always misleading
No matter how little
Is covered
But all realized
Sooner or later
The dark
Disposition
Of my tainted soul
And they took
The first train home.

So blindly
I stumbled and fell
But no mistakes
Could teach me
How to walk
Without falling
Or maybe I refused
To learn
And my stubbornness
My ideas of life
Kept tripping me
At every step.

So now I stand here
With nothing
No hopes
No dreams
Only compromises
With life
All my ideals
And beliefs shattered
All my hopes
And desires forsaken
I long for nothing now
Except solitude.

Alas, I know someday
I shall meet a fork
On this lonely road
And I will be forced
To choose between
Two roads of destruction
And tempted though I am
To walk away from both
I am only a blind beggar
Stumbling along the way
With no choice at all
For how are two roads
Each leading
To a different monster
A choice in any way?

~*~*~

Phoenix

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The Fire of the Dawn by @deadpoet88

~*~*~

I awoke, in silence
Submerged under water
Feeling the rush of calm chaos
Bubbling up to the surface

A deafening thirst for insanity
Only to be stuck in a moment
Of the purest tranquility
As the world went spiraling down

And somewhere, the voices faded
As my universe darkened
Change the only constant
Constantly pushing me under

I could not be perfect
Honestly, I never tried
One learns to notice these flashes
Of disappointment in their eyes

They always said I was nothing
Just a stranger passing by
Forever to be forgotten
With wings plucked clean and tied

I always was too stubborn
To stay broken, to stay shattered
Some called it delusion
Others a hopelessly lost cause

But what choice did I have?
Except to throw on another smile
And hide this darkness inside
Listening to the echoes of hysterical laughter

But what choice did I have?
To stay buried under giants
Or to grow wings from the fiery chasms
And rise from the ashes and fly

~*~*~

Looking Back

by: deadpoet88
by: deadpoet88

~*~*~

I know that dwelling in the past leads to nothing good,
But I find it hard not to look back and realize,
That with time I have become tainted,
That innocence, that desire to be helpful,
That want to make the world a better place,
Has faded into the background, maybe lost forever.
Maybe I have become too self-centered;
I behave as if the world revolves around me
That my problems are the biggest of problems.

Yet, I find myself confused, for I often believe,
That I have changed for the better,
I have become more comfortable in my skin,
I have realized that trying to please,
The whole world is pointless.
I have realized that there will be people who,
Disagree with what I believe, Or hate me for who I am.
I have realized that people will hold,
Grudges for years to come,
Even though they don’t even know who I am today.

Oddly, I’m perfectly fine with that,
I don’t care any more, since I realize,
Who I want to have in my life,
And who does not matter to me.
I know who those few real friends of mine are,
And I know that I can say or do anything
Without them misunderstanding or judging.
With them, I’m not afraid of being myself,
I’m not afraid of having opinions,
I’m not afraid of standing up for what I believe in.
Maybe they give me a false sense of courage.

I also realized that with time,
One can learn to overcome their shortcomings,
It is never too late to learn things,
It is never too late to be better.
Had I let such thoughts bring me down,
I never would have been doing,
Some of the things I love today.
And even if tomorrow I feel like I know nothing,
I’ll just give it a few days,
Decide to work on the things I lack,
And I’ll become better at what I do.
I have a thirst to learn,
And that keeps me moving.

Yet, I still feel uncomfortable knowing,
That I’ve lost that desire to be helpful,
That I’ve become content with life as it is now,
In spite of the pain and suffering that animals
And people all over the world face.
I also know this is a difficult problem to solve,
Maybe even impossible,
But why should that stop me from doing something?

I never was ambitious, I just wanted to help,
Now I am without ambition, just apathetic,
Without longing to do something good.
Sometimes I don’t even know if I am doing
Others wrong by having pity,
For I don’t walk in their shoes.
Maybe the world doesn’t need saving,
And I just want to feed my ego.

~*~*~

Wintry Madness

By: deadpoet88

~*~*~

I long for silence in the depths of my mind.
The words are spiralling like snow in a snowstorm.
Slippery and hard to catch, leaving me watching,
As the crystals melt into nothingness.
Maybe it is better this way,
For most words are meaningless.
Except, some words seem to be balls of ice,
That leave behind bruises as they fall to the ground.

Frozen in this wintry madness, unable to move.
There is white all around me, pure, untouched.
I long to reach out, and feel the warmth,
Of these snowflakes, soft and welcoming,
Before the numbness crawls up my veins.
But there is an element of pain in healing,
It is easier to let my lids feel heavy and fall,
As I slowly lose myself to the numbing cold.

There is a despair in the howling of the wind,
As if every moment it loses an essential part of its soul.
The mind is trapped under an avalanche,
And does not know above from below.
I long to awaken and see colors, blue, darkness,
Anything other than this white idiosyncracy.
No, I just realized I have my words all mixed up,
The white is too consistent all around me.

The craze of the storm must drift into serenity,
The snow must fall sleepily, with a defined purpose.
I am still awake, my mind slowly thawing,
But the numbness wants to keep its newfound control.
The roads are covered uniformly with blissful white,
I want to move, but I have lost all sense of direction,
How long must a soul aimlessly wander,
Before realizing that it is not yet lost?

~*~*~

On Writing

Written Verse

~*~*~

Volatile, like ethanol,
My thoughts evaporate,
One after another,
Until the mind finds,
Itself drunken on words,
Flowing endlessly from,
The depths of my imagination.

Worlds unknown, borrowed,
From the world we live in,
Encumbered by the limitations,
Of all we see and believe,
Yet still the surreal voices,
Echoing from written verse,
Seem so strange to hear.

Visions of our deepest fears,
Darkness and chaos,
Come together to spread,
Terror in our hearts,
Only to be shattered
By heroes unheard of,
To melt all that makes us afraid.

Like an artist without a brush,
Always painting pictures,
From the depths of the soul,
With colors unknown,
But felt in every stroke,
Of the pen we dearly hold,
As the heart bleeds.

The song of the heart,
Escapes as barely a whisper,
Floating through the air,
Like a fragrant perfume,
Sweet and uplifting,
Touching all but the person,
For whom it was sung.

These feelings in my heart,
Rarely spoken of,
Yet always written about,
Bring into solid form,
My true inner self,
More realistically than,
The words left unspoken.

What am I without my muse;
Without the pen in my hand,
And thoughts wild in my mind;
Without empty words,
Building so much meaning;
Without momentary feelings,
Bringing life permanence?

I would be Nothing,
But the sweet fragrance,
Of wild strawberries,
Floating through the air,
Untouched, unfelt, unheard.
Yet always present,
Silently hidden.

~*~*~