Death.
Does death exist? How could it exist within the living God... Spiritual joy of living is denied by evils crafty lies. Hoping you believe it's true, a way of controlling you. When you pass they will say that decay is the only way, Gods promise is a lie they think that you have died. Then they seal you tightly in a tomb keeping the song of life away from you. Becoming like them becoming decay, see you around Judgment Day. Lend an ear when I say you will live and not decay. In a shroud you should be ready to set you body free, the Lord breathes in and then breathes out spreading your energy all about. Rising from the ground becoming the day singing the song of life in every way... within a living God you will be singing a song of eternity.~Duke Deltree~
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Note: The maid in this poem is actually supposed to be Death.
- The Dying Gunslinger -
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
- The Dying Gunslinger -
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
Death and Lust
by ~UnleashedHeathen
Lust confides in me
Desire runs through my veins and hides me
Death lies within my mind body and soul
Death and lust bring tentions that I can`t control
Death and lust will control forever
Because lust and death will always work together
Death kills the mind and body so It can release the soul
While lust destroys the virgins that always do what they`re told
You see our secrets keep us alive
Whether it`s destroying relationships or killing a guy
Do what feels good and hide the body
With death and lust comes something naughty
by ~UnleashedHeathen
Lust confides in me
Desire runs through my veins and hides me
Death lies within my mind body and soul
Death and lust bring tentions that I can`t control
Death and lust will control forever
Because lust and death will always work together
Death kills the mind and body so It can release the soul
While lust destroys the virgins that always do what they`re told
You see our secrets keep us alive
Whether it`s destroying relationships or killing a guy
Do what feels good and hide the body
With death and lust comes something naughty
Sunset by UnleashedHeathen
Sunset of purple, blue and red
Will you paint me another picture tomorrow before lay my head down.
You show my dreams and forshadow what could be
Suntset of purple,blue, and red; Kill me slowly
Earth brings me the stars that shine so bright
Show my heart in the midnight sky
Oh dear planet; bring me the moon that circles the earth
Show me my life to help me remember experiences since birth
Midnight sky, I can smell your dusk
Shoe me romance. Give me back my lust
Sunset of purple, blue, and red
Kill me slowly or give me my rest
Sunset of purple, blue and red
Will you paint me another picture tomorrow before lay my head down.
You show my dreams and forshadow what could be
Suntset of purple,blue, and red; Kill me slowly
Earth brings me the stars that shine so bright
Show my heart in the midnight sky
Oh dear planet; bring me the moon that circles the earth
Show me my life to help me remember experiences since birth
Midnight sky, I can smell your dusk
Shoe me romance. Give me back my lust
Sunset of purple, blue, and red
Kill me slowly or give me my rest
Dreaming of Death
by ~UnleashedHeathen
When I sleep reality subsides and I get a new perspective on death
I get to see what it's like to be the one that realizes how much better it feels to die, rather than feel the pain and torture of life
When I find myself lying in a pool of blood, I realize then that it was you that I truly loved.
When I die in my dreams, I can still wake up
The only bad part about that is that I can still feel the pain of actually loving you; Actually letting you breathe my tainted air
Its not easy letting one hold my heart
The easy part is letting them hold it after its been ripped out
Then they can feel my pain, smell my sorrow, listen to the tears that were to afraid to fall They can taste the blood that had been touched one to many times
When it's in ones hands I want him to see why I was so afraid to let him in
When he holds my heart he can see what I was to afraid to tell him
My tears could show him too
They say the eyes are the window to the soul
He can't even seen mine
Terror masks it over
Why? Because around him I feel less insecure
I feel more valuable than the one that was supposed to protect me made me feel
Around him I'm not afraid to show vulnerability because I know he won't take advantage of it
When I wake from my dream I realize how bad I want to die
I can see why it would be much easier to unchain the blood that is trapped just like me
I suppose that should make you happy;I hope it does
I'll kill myself before death gets the satisfaction
by ~UnleashedHeathen
When I sleep reality subsides and I get a new perspective on death
I get to see what it's like to be the one that realizes how much better it feels to die, rather than feel the pain and torture of life
When I find myself lying in a pool of blood, I realize then that it was you that I truly loved.
When I die in my dreams, I can still wake up
The only bad part about that is that I can still feel the pain of actually loving you; Actually letting you breathe my tainted air
Its not easy letting one hold my heart
The easy part is letting them hold it after its been ripped out
Then they can feel my pain, smell my sorrow, listen to the tears that were to afraid to fall They can taste the blood that had been touched one to many times
When it's in ones hands I want him to see why I was so afraid to let him in
When he holds my heart he can see what I was to afraid to tell him
My tears could show him too
They say the eyes are the window to the soul
He can't even seen mine
Terror masks it over
Why? Because around him I feel less insecure
I feel more valuable than the one that was supposed to protect me made me feel
Around him I'm not afraid to show vulnerability because I know he won't take advantage of it
When I wake from my dream I realize how bad I want to die
I can see why it would be much easier to unchain the blood that is trapped just like me
I suppose that should make you happy;I hope it does
I'll kill myself before death gets the satisfaction
HER HAND IN YOUR
Her hand in yours
"I don't know how many holds I have left" you say.
You, Papa, laying there lightly, in the
hospital bed, floating
like a water lily
upon the Great River of Life
moving so naturally
out of our
reach.
The womb of your consciousness
opening
agonizingly stretching
breath laboring
as you birth your own soul
into the loving
waiting
arms
of Heaven.
Her hand in yours
"I don't know how many holds I have left" you say.
You, Papa, laying there lightly, in the
hospital bed, floating
like a water lily
upon the Great River of Life
moving so naturally
out of our
reach.
The womb of your consciousness
opening
agonizingly stretching
breath laboring
as you birth your own soul
into the loving
waiting
arms
of Heaven.
oh the sweet taste that is the wine of age and flaw
like an aged sin within a vessel
be it wine of flesh
ah how she sips the chalice that belongs to time
how it fills her mouth and dances over her tongue like a melody
cold always cold and tastes of copper
she drinks deep
her pallid fingers furled and laced within the day
how they entwine like the leaves on the gate of the cemetery
her hair flows like a widows veil
the scent of earth and pine
lo she be your enemy
who lingers from birth and mocks you when you stumble
her mark is the moist aroma of decay that clings beneath her ears
like a sinister scented perfume
and her eyes sing departure
and her lips speak inevitable certainty
her gaunt elegant fingers adorned with the finest pearls
polished with regret and misunderstanding
the soles of her shoes are lined with stale roses
and her breath weeps the absence of ambition
her lilly gown
the color of alabaster cascades like the moon light
upon ash...
she was there for your first breath,
oh how her lips pursed along with yours when you blew out your candles the very candles that mark your birth date
how sweet she tasted in the pastries
and in the smoke of your cigar
the very wine you sipped
how fragile she was when she loomed over you
as you fought on the table
under her knife
she waited like a faithful friend
she tastes of seasoned night and feted hopes
she is death
(comparison of death and friendship)
like an aged sin within a vessel
be it wine of flesh
ah how she sips the chalice that belongs to time
how it fills her mouth and dances over her tongue like a melody
cold always cold and tastes of copper
she drinks deep
her pallid fingers furled and laced within the day
how they entwine like the leaves on the gate of the cemetery
her hair flows like a widows veil
the scent of earth and pine
lo she be your enemy
who lingers from birth and mocks you when you stumble
her mark is the moist aroma of decay that clings beneath her ears
like a sinister scented perfume
and her eyes sing departure
and her lips speak inevitable certainty
her gaunt elegant fingers adorned with the finest pearls
polished with regret and misunderstanding
the soles of her shoes are lined with stale roses
and her breath weeps the absence of ambition
her lilly gown
the color of alabaster cascades like the moon light
upon ash...
she was there for your first breath,
oh how her lips pursed along with yours when you blew out your candles the very candles that mark your birth date
how sweet she tasted in the pastries
and in the smoke of your cigar
the very wine you sipped
how fragile she was when she loomed over you
as you fought on the table
under her knife
she waited like a faithful friend
she tastes of seasoned night and feted hopes
she is death
(comparison of death and friendship)
A Portrait of My Muse
A brush with Death though we paint separate pictures
His, a sudden serenity, and mine is always yours
The Maestro preens his wings
With a cold, methodical plan
How to enlist Death's services is the only answer he'll demand
But a weakness is shown when that blade is delayed
By an organ that plays the emotion that stayed
A brush with Death though we paint separate pictures
His, a sudden serenity, and mine is always yours
The Maestro preens his wings
With a cold, methodical plan
How to enlist Death's services is the only answer he'll demand
But a weakness is shown when that blade is delayed
By an organ that plays the emotion that stayed
Desperate Measures
A light grip here
A barrage of snacks and fatty foods there
Anger
Lust
Frustration
Higher thought doesn't seem to help
I got lost in a cape
I used to put on
to adorn and enshrine
my last shreds of hope
Laws in place for the stupid and frustrated
Trapped in their lives
Forced spectators as each moment ticks by
Disgrace in repetition of needs not being met
Escape the only door left unguarded
Even if the hallway leads straight into Hell
At least damnation is a far-cry better
than a death invested in seconds
Food
Alcohol
Sex
Drugs
Cigarettes
God
Work
Money
Status
Politics
Books
Music
Love
We all have our desperate measures of control
Some more tame than others
and few have a hungrier beast than most
Woe be unto those
who would chew through their own limbs
to escape the pendulum blade that falls with each sway
Soon they will have no way to run
And all the past possibilities will leave them nowhere
With no higher ground to seek;
when that pale, thin, man of pain comes calling
Then, even Hell would turn its back on them
Never having caught enough of their scent
Never having licked enough of their flesh
Until the kill was just too easy to make the effort worthwhile
A light grip here
A barrage of snacks and fatty foods there
Anger
Lust
Frustration
Higher thought doesn't seem to help
I got lost in a cape
I used to put on
to adorn and enshrine
my last shreds of hope
Laws in place for the stupid and frustrated
Trapped in their lives
Forced spectators as each moment ticks by
Disgrace in repetition of needs not being met
Escape the only door left unguarded
Even if the hallway leads straight into Hell
At least damnation is a far-cry better
than a death invested in seconds
Food
Alcohol
Sex
Drugs
Cigarettes
God
Work
Money
Status
Politics
Books
Music
Love
We all have our desperate measures of control
Some more tame than others
and few have a hungrier beast than most
Woe be unto those
who would chew through their own limbs
to escape the pendulum blade that falls with each sway
Soon they will have no way to run
And all the past possibilities will leave them nowhere
With no higher ground to seek;
when that pale, thin, man of pain comes calling
Then, even Hell would turn its back on them
Never having caught enough of their scent
Never having licked enough of their flesh
Until the kill was just too easy to make the effort worthwhile
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Sentenced To Death
Hanged from the gallows
of creative writing.
Swinging from the gibbet
of sentence construction.
With grammar that stands
on the essence of her voice,
the alphabet hung as a necklace
around the vocality of her wordy neck.
She'd wanted to
swallow all the letters
in quick succession
punctuation as well,
but that would have been suicide.
Hanged from the gallows
of creative writing.
Swinging from the gibbet
of sentence construction.
With grammar that stands
on the essence of her voice,
the alphabet hung as a necklace
around the vocality of her wordy neck.
She'd wanted to
swallow all the letters
in quick succession
punctuation as well,
but that would have been suicide.
Somethings Are Not Meant To Be Beautiful
One and one
Means two
I sold my soul to you
Age old wine
The blame is mine
Two hearts no longer beat in time.
We walk through the graveyard
Symbolic in grey
Colours fade as night turns to day
I reserve that tombstone
That plot is mine
The smell of decay and age old lime
Sap Seep’s from nearby trees
The puss of splinters
I cannot breathe
Silent in motion
Against the morning breeze
One final look at your lips my sweet
Here is where I lay
Leave now never look back
Just for once do as I say.
Something’s are not meant to be beautiful.
They die with the morning sun
Birds migrate peacefully
As my lover turns and runs.
One and one
Means two
I sold my soul to you
Age old wine
The blame is mine
Two hearts no longer beat in time.
We walk through the graveyard
Symbolic in grey
Colours fade as night turns to day
I reserve that tombstone
That plot is mine
The smell of decay and age old lime
Sap Seep’s from nearby trees
The puss of splinters
I cannot breathe
Silent in motion
Against the morning breeze
One final look at your lips my sweet
Here is where I lay
Leave now never look back
Just for once do as I say.
Something’s are not meant to be beautiful.
They die with the morning sun
Birds migrate peacefully
As my lover turns and runs.
