It was a matter of right and wrong,
A matter of truth and lies,
A matter of justice and injustice.
Yet still did evil triumph over good,
And the world rejoiced.
“Morality is to be shot,”
They said,
“Like the murder of a mocking-bird,”
And the world rejoiced.
We are but sacrifices on the altar of greed.
~*~*~
Darkness creeps into the veins of mortals,
Silently humming a song of mourning,
As it carves into the heart a mark of evil.
All that is left is pain,
Shooting through blackened veins,
Like trying to breathe underwater.
Life hangs by a fine thread of darkness,
As a Hobson’s Choice is given to all mortals,
Do evil or accept water in place of air.
‘Twas the song of a solitary nightingale,
The sadness and beauty satiated the air with warmth.
Ne’er hath this heart within me been so lively,
As when thou looked into mine eyes and saw my soul.
Oh, this evanescence of beautiful dreams,
Had they lingered even the length of a moment longer,
Their beauty would have faded into the night,
Leaving a soft mist in place of these dreams of mine heart.
When I dream of thee in the wisp of the night,
I feel thy presence around me, e’en in mine heart.
And I wish the night stretches on for eternity,
That I might feel thy friendship wrapping around me always.
Thou art the cherry blossoms in early spring,
Showering this earthen beauty with thy soft petals.
The branches heavy with thy goodness and love,
And a promise, in the heart of thy admirer, for a new dawn.
The reflections on the flowing river, of a sun recently risen,
The birds singing their morning songs of joy.
Unquenchable thirst for time to come to a standstill,
Mine heart divided between my wish and the will of thy mind.
Thy voice lingers in the air, my thoughts inundated by thee,
My voice beckons thee to hold me in thine arms.
I wait, eagerly, desperately, to hear the faintest reply,
But the silence, so deafening, returns me not a sound.
The moonlight illuminates, when the sun hath set,
Only thy voice can brighten the shadows of mine heart.
Silently I pine in the darkness, for a glimmer of light,
Fading, falling, into these endless depths.
If thou hadst known the turmoil of mine heart,
Would thou hast left me more than the touch of thy breath?
Nay, to thee, I was but a stranger, no different from another
To me, thou wast mine only reason to smile.
Let me die in thine arms,
So the death I die may bring to me happiness.
I could have thee not in this life I lived,
Might I have thee in my death. I love thee so, my dearest one.
Thou art all I wish to touch,
Thou art all I want to see,
Before these eyes close forever.
Love me dearest, before I go, For I shall love thee for all eternity.
Hold me before I die dearest, hold me please,
Before my last breath tears us apart silently.
I still remember the day these photographs were taken. It seems like another life or a dream too good to be true. It was a dream too good to be true. Those were the happy days, that are no more.
~*~*~
Muse
‘Twas a soft song in the air,
That whispered dreams into mine ears.
Butterflies stroked the summer rays,
With the beat of their gentle wings.
These dreams did fill mine heart,
With little joys meant to disappear.
The warmth of the wildflowers,
Did touch this lost soul from within.
The softness of thy voice,
Struck a chord in mine heart.
Thou lovingly tuned the strings of my soul,
And made me thy muse much loved.
The sky blushed from adoring innocence,
As the music of mine heart hung heavy in the air.
The sweetness of thy song,
Filled my world with everlasting hope.
Honeybees suckled in pools of nectar,
Flowers grew brighter at every passing day.
Dewdrops on the grass glistened in the morning,
Dancing to the melody that filled the sweet air.
Thou played thy muse so lovingly,
In tune with the song of thy heart.
Ne’er hadst the world heard such love,
Sung from the common core of two souls come together.
Thou wast an artist, in love with thy instrument,
Caressing her strings gently, lest they break.
All were in awe of thy heart’s warming music,
Most of all thy own muse who sang.
Thou ne’er let another touch her,
She sang only the will of thine heart.
A queen she was, in the palace of thy verse,
Thou inspired reverence in her eyes.
With use, the best of things, wear out,
As didst the muse of thine heart, thy love.
An instrument old, is meant to be forsaken,
Yet thou didst not wish to give up thy love.
Artiste thou wast, thou art, thou shalt always be,
Thine heart wast ne’er mine, but of thy talent.
If only, mine heart could be an instrument more skilled,
Might thou ne’er hast left me.
Sadly, ’twas a time long ago,
Now the strings of mine heart lie broken,
The once magical muse abandoned.
An instrument unskilled for the artist,
Has no fate but everlasting silence,
As the virtuoso finds himself a muse better suited.
Alas, this muse forsaken, heartbroken, forgotten,
Lays down to sleep, forever, under the misty sky.
Oh drunken spirit, how doth thee be,
A mere figment of my reality?
Thy form so clear in frozen tears,
As love sings its requiem for oblivious fears.
Go on my friend, see beyond the bend,
And all you wished to end shall end.
The mind is a cadaver, buried alive,
Broken, unwilled, left to shrivel and die.
Thy mind tastes like honey, tastes like sweet wine,
Forever locked in a memory, the key for which I pine.
Show me the fountainhead from which you spring,
What gives thy mind life, what makes thee sing?
The body is perfection, a master’s art,
Enslaved by beauty, conditions of the heart.
Why is it that thy beauty binds,
Like thorns entwined, thy love so blind?
Silver threads twist and turn, churn, unlearned,
Like hate thee spurned, and perfection earned.
The soul is depraved, as mortals say,
Like religious wars that kill each day.
Thy soul is divine, so truthful and blithe,
Like honeybees dancing on a warm spring’s flight.
Crystal clear streams of thy goodness flows,
Melting me like snow, melting into a firefly’s glow.
The heart, they say, has a fragile base,
Break it once and it never repairs.
Thine heart is a safe haven, one made of warm gold,
Thine heart is my savior, such lies cannot be told.
So hold me close, dear spirit, breathe me into life,
Unite our hearts into one; someday make me thine own.
Alternative ending (older):
Thine heart is snake’s venom, thine heart is cold,
Thine heart was my savior, but then it was sold.
Strewn are the broken pieces, shattered is this life,
Forgotten is this spirit, as slowly even my soul dies.
x~~~~~~x
I wrote the above a long time ago. The ending is still not quite right though, so one can say it’s still a “Work in Progress”. I would like to thank Charles for pointing out a few mistakes, which I have fixed in this version. I wonder why I never posted this one earlier, it being one of my favorite pieces.
I am the darkness, the darkness me,
What no light can pierce for all of eternity…
‘Twas but a silent song I sung with eloquence that night,
Which brought with it unrequited love,
And the will to give up this life.
The music in the air did fill this forsaken heart,
To stone it turned so fast, my love, love it was no more.
Unfathomable Darkness fell, abysmal was the light.
The tears came shining through inconspicuously,
These tears as black as night.
They fell, they burned, so silently, aghast that they exist.
Yet, who could see these tears so black, in darkness that persists?
The aim was precise, the arrow sharp,
It split the black heart, one half a mirror image of the other.
Slowly they crumbled, until nothing was left,
A dark chill filled the night air, a chill that lingered on for eternity.
And the arrow was lost in the abyss of yore.
Unfathomable Darkness fell, abysmal was the light.
Forever walk all broken souls, under the starry sky.
The moonlight creeps, as darkness streaks,
But even swindled rays from the moon cannot rupture,
The air that reeks of this infinite darkness.
A heart once crushed, can weep no more,
As a shattered vase must remain empty of flowers.
How broken glass cuts, drawing dark blood,
So do the minute fragments of the heart pierce the soul.
Yet this I ask, what blood hath the soul to offer?
Unfathomable Darkness fell, abysmal was the light.
This shattered heart brought darkness deep into my life,
‘Tis my soul which is left empty to the very brim.
Shrouded by these voices, chanting over and over again,
As the stench of death hangs heavy in the darkened sky.
‘Twas the death of a life I once dared to wish for,
The end of all dreams, one can say.
I was plunged into waves of the blackest darkness,
Which turned into a Tsunami and destroyed my banks.
Where do I go for relief, where do I go to recover?
Unfathomable Darkness fell, abysmal was the light.
I could watch the shadows dance, in the black of night.
A heart once mended can never work as well as one born new.
Like the boughs burdened with cherry blossoms,
This obscurity of the past weights down upon me, oh, so cruel.
I am the darkness, the darkness me,
What no light can pierce for all of eternity…
Oh, dear dreary darkness of this dreadful life. Will thou not let the drudgery of thy mind be washed away with the rays of the sun? Let it shine through the cracks of the walls thou built within thine head, let the rays with their own force, break apart these walls, and let in the fresh air. This damp and deeply pungent scent in the air, banish it with the warmth of thy mind opening up to accept the golden rays. Oh, dear dreary darkness of this dreadful life…when will thee let in the light?
Aye, this eternal sadness of the mind inflicts upon thee a sickness, the curse of a broken heart. The agony becomes ubiquitous, flowing into every crack and imperfection of thy mind. Oh, if only our minds were immaculate, such that the despair, desperately looking for a hiding place, would find none and slip off the surface like water on glass.
Love dies the death of a miscreant, yet with it lies dead the hero, Trust. We never fall for the villain’s treachery twice, but when the death of a dream takes place, when all Trust is lost, what will aid this broken heart? When all Trust is lost, with whom do we grieve this shattered heart? Say a day comes in our life, when we find we cannot even bank upon ourselves, what is it that we must do? Must we sink into the ground and die a desired death?
If we were such stuff that dreams are made of, then the empty heaviness of the heart would not matter. The heart would lie silent, subdued by the stars sparkling in the night sky. The whispers in the air would bring comfort, a longing to live a wonderful life, even if the life demands we must live it alone. Dreams would carry us in their arms, sing us a lullaby, and soften our eyelids with faint traces of star-dust. Aye, but the dreams have broken, leaving us empty and cold. Why live this life with a broken heart and shattered dreams? Why go on?
Alas, the heart lies tattered and torn, in the darkness of a new moon night. The dreams lie strewn haphazardly, shivering on the snow-covered ground. All that is heard echoing in the silence of the depths of time is a faint whimper, then deafening silence once again…
It is a sunny day and the birds are chirping,
But inside my head you will only find a raging storm.
Been in conflict forever, always divided in two,
Yet I look not around me with feelings of scorn.
“Lie in conflict, lie in pain, lie until you become insane,
Waste away the life that could have been,
While the altercation of your mind drowns you within.
Alas, thou squander thyself with thine own hands…”
It is in my heart that I keep these lies so safely,
All that leaves my lips is the naked truth.
For though we try so hard to cover up our bodies,
The nakedness of our minds will find a way to shine through.
“Aye, the truth she says! What truth?
In a world where all wish to live behind a veil of fallacy,
What would one get by wearing a sword of honesty?
Oh the despair, oh the despair!”
Long lost are the thoughts that bleed through my heart,
And smear the pages with black blood.
Forever I shall wait, as the red drops pour forth,
Leaving behind a numbness, an empty cold void.
“What know thee of emptiness, what know thee of eternity?
They are but exaggerations of thy heart.
There is no emptiness, there is no forever,
Lest thee permit them to prevail.”
It matters not who enters, nor who chooses to leave,
As the vacuum only grows and eternal time keeps ticking.
One cannot be the remedy of wounds left by another,
The cold-blooded massacre of a heart cannot be endured.
“Ah, but hearts were meant to be broken,
To be crushed and discarded like autumn leaves.
There is no such thing, I say, there is no such thing!
Yet all still believe in this word called love.”
Time ticks away, like a bomb set to explode,
It damages more than it can repair.
Words when spoken, leave hearts so broken,
We are always running, far from our darkest fears.
“Do you fear it Dearie, do you fear like I do?
Fear living more than dying, I do.
Time heals Dearie, time heals all,
Sometimes I feel it would be easier to take the fall.”
We try so hard to smile, doing things that make us frown,
Yet smile I cannot, for I see more than one should see,
We desire in our hearts most to be left broken winged,
For only then do we feel that we are alive and truly believe.
“Oh, how can one desire to be broken,
When one flinches at the slightest hint of pain?
In a world where sacrifice has no meaning,
How can one say they live their life, if not in vain?”
We spend our whole lives, building up from dust,
A life we were taught to dream of.
Achieve dreams once, then what is left,
Oblivion or another dream for a dreamer?
“Wake up you fools, from this crazy dream,
Before nightmare it turns out to be!
Wake up and see, wake up and see,
We are but puppets at the end of a string!”
“Alas, we dance with the waves of the world,
Without reason, without doubt, like robots with a lost cause…“
x——-x
This is a piece I have redone many times. Every time I fixed it up, not only were there drastic changes, but later I would never be satisfied. This is my third attempt at writing it. Though I must warn you, I may again feel the need to change it in the future. I shall put it up again in that case.
I need a small favor though, cannot think of an appropriate title for this poem. Any suggestions are welcome, and will be greatly appreciated! The current title needs to be changed.
Inside the Mind of a Lunatic 