Submissions by AscensionES (Aptilneilrionaltion)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Fuck all of you.
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Feb 2014 3:56am
8th Feb 2014 3:56am
The Indifferent and the Dead.
They're not ready
to leave the tree.
The little birds
chirping merrily.
They're too far
into bliss,
into life and its repetitive cycles.
I'd equate them to pigeons
lining their pockets in profitable seed.
Their trunks,
their branches
and their leaves decay.
Take their debts
their sins,
their Gods
and set them adrift.
In losing everything
to death,
and to despair
I've detached from these pigeons...
to leave the tree.
The little birds
chirping merrily.
They're too far
into bliss,
into life and its repetitive cycles.
I'd equate them to pigeons
lining their pockets in profitable seed.
Their trunks,
their branches
and their leaves decay.
Take their debts
their sins,
their Gods
and set them adrift.
In losing everything
to death,
and to despair
I've detached from these pigeons...
817 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
4th Feb 2014 2:24pm
4th Feb 2014 2:24pm
Wargasm
Pieces rain like blood-tattered confetti,
still remembering their names, their faces.
They're screaming through their exit wounds
I place barrel to temple, pull.
I place barrel to temple, pull.
They're screaming through their exit wounds.
still remembering their names, their faces,
pieces rain like blood-tattered confetti.
still remembering their names, their faces.
They're screaming through their exit wounds
I place barrel to temple, pull.
I place barrel to temple, pull.
They're screaming through their exit wounds.
still remembering their names, their faces,
pieces rain like blood-tattered confetti.
933 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2014 3:55pm
2nd Feb 2014 3:55pm
Two Reminders and a Torched Home
The fragments are scattered across the bathroom floor
photo frames, the shattered glasses of photo frames
and bottles of bourbon. Cocaine glistening from my fingertips
and smeared across my fucking face.
There I am, holding her. I never cried so much in my life.
Despondent, detached it's as if she's disconnected from reality
when I need her the most. We both lost in the
heaviness of the dawn. The feeble sunlight avoiding us.
Left in the shadows of despair and darkness a poisonous erroding
whatever love we have left. I can't stop...
photo frames, the shattered glasses of photo frames
and bottles of bourbon. Cocaine glistening from my fingertips
and smeared across my fucking face.
There I am, holding her. I never cried so much in my life.
Despondent, detached it's as if she's disconnected from reality
when I need her the most. We both lost in the
heaviness of the dawn. The feeble sunlight avoiding us.
Left in the shadows of despair and darkness a poisonous erroding
whatever love we have left. I can't stop...
765 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
31st Jan 2014 1:10am
31st Jan 2014 1:10am
Rest your finger on the trigger
It's cold here.
Here, in this place
where sorrows can be traded for a shot
of your spirit of preference.
It is here, where men try to forget
of all they have lost,
and what they've failed to achieve
And it is here I sit
simply just another man
with his sorrow mixed
with every drink I order.
Stinging, burning my throat
and lighting a fire in my chest.
I've knocked one too many back
and I'm close to passing out
Home,
I never really cared,
it's just a fucking house.
Creaking with every step
of...
Here, in this place
where sorrows can be traded for a shot
of your spirit of preference.
It is here, where men try to forget
of all they have lost,
and what they've failed to achieve
And it is here I sit
simply just another man
with his sorrow mixed
with every drink I order.
Stinging, burning my throat
and lighting a fire in my chest.
I've knocked one too many back
and I'm close to passing out
Home,
I never really cared,
it's just a fucking house.
Creaking with every step
of...
736 reads
2 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
28th Jan 2014 7:02am
28th Jan 2014 7:02am
f**k your God
Have I told you
of him?
The vessel of God's wrath
bringing forth lessons drenched
in innocent blood.
Of shattered hopes
and realised fears?
I tell you now
he is dead and buried.
And her,
a bitter memory of something
I apparently don't deserve to have.
Fucking buried.
I held her hand
until her nails shredded my skin.
My intentions are all the same
I felt ready to...
of him?
The vessel of God's wrath
bringing forth lessons drenched
in innocent blood.
Of shattered hopes
and realised fears?
I tell you now
he is dead and buried.
And her,
a bitter memory of something
I apparently don't deserve to have.
Fucking buried.
I held her hand
until her nails shredded my skin.
My intentions are all the same
I felt ready to...
903 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
27th Jan 2014 1:40pm
27th Jan 2014 1:40pm
Defeatist
Take your trophy
and discard it for scrap.
Vulnerabilities shrouded
in a metaphoric fog
weaving webs of subtlety and surprise.
Weaknesses cloaked,
cast below the surfaces
of strength and grotesque imagery.
Any qualities
deemed worthy to redeem him
tattered bloody, decorations spattered
in a canvas of fragile men
cowering in the darkness.
Fuck the trophies, fuck honour.
I'm more alive
with innocent blood on my hands.
and discard it for scrap.
Vulnerabilities shrouded
in a metaphoric fog
weaving webs of subtlety and surprise.
Weaknesses cloaked,
cast below the surfaces
of strength and grotesque imagery.
Any qualities
deemed worthy to redeem him
tattered bloody, decorations spattered
in a canvas of fragile men
cowering in the darkness.
Fuck the trophies, fuck honour.
I'm more alive
with innocent blood on my hands.
673 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2014 12:38pm
23rd Jan 2014 12:38pm
Cannisters
I find more poetry in silence.
Anger, sadness, joy, fear.
To convey these is to tease you
out of your dearest emotions.
The Hooded Clerics of Old seldom speak of it
you won't find it in poetry, in prose.
It's found sprawled across a sidewalk
covered in shattered glass, vomit and spit
it emits grog.
It sits, decaying in the streets of Los Angeles
dying of diseases, deprived of its poisonous addictions.
It lays in a coffin, six feet deep.
It rests in submerged wreckages of the pacific.
It fed the greens of France,
nutrients...
Anger, sadness, joy, fear.
To convey these is to tease you
out of your dearest emotions.
The Hooded Clerics of Old seldom speak of it
you won't find it in poetry, in prose.
It's found sprawled across a sidewalk
covered in shattered glass, vomit and spit
it emits grog.
It sits, decaying in the streets of Los Angeles
dying of diseases, deprived of its poisonous addictions.
It lays in a coffin, six feet deep.
It rests in submerged wreckages of the pacific.
It fed the greens of France,
nutrients...
785 reads
3 Comments
ANGER POEM
Published
15th Jan 2014 11:45am
15th Jan 2014 11:45am
Certainly the Fire
There are fires
and there is uncertainty;
that corrals the uncertain.
Panic that scatters them.
I sit here and burn.
Having lost what I have
and taken from every loss a lesson.
I find that my searing flesh
is bearable.
I take from this heat
severed nerve endings
severed reminders
and turned
every burn and every scar.
Lessons, hard ones.
That rarely, if ever
come cheap.
If I were to detach,
turn away and burn endlessly in anger. ...
and there is uncertainty;
that corrals the uncertain.
Panic that scatters them.
I sit here and burn.
Having lost what I have
and taken from every loss a lesson.
I find that my searing flesh
is bearable.
I take from this heat
severed nerve endings
severed reminders
and turned
every burn and every scar.
Lessons, hard ones.
That rarely, if ever
come cheap.
If I were to detach,
turn away and burn endlessly in anger. ...
748 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
7th Jan 2014 4:15am
7th Jan 2014 4:15am
Inhale
The tiles, cracked and scattered across the carpet.
An open archway illuminates the kitchen to the lounge room.
out reached the moonlight is feeble
Chairs and a table; other insignificant witnesses - hardened melt for dining wear.
Belts, buckles and blankets, breathe them in.
you'll inhale reminiscence; lost entities and souls
of innocence, guilt. The curtains blackened
the fragile lacquer of Wooden oak, in pieces.
Blackened little pieces, everything taken in the thickness
of fire, stricken in flames and shrouded in a poisonous smoke.
Shoes,...
An open archway illuminates the kitchen to the lounge room.
out reached the moonlight is feeble
Chairs and a table; other insignificant witnesses - hardened melt for dining wear.
Belts, buckles and blankets, breathe them in.
you'll inhale reminiscence; lost entities and souls
of innocence, guilt. The curtains blackened
the fragile lacquer of Wooden oak, in pieces.
Blackened little pieces, everything taken in the thickness
of fire, stricken in flames and shrouded in a poisonous smoke.
Shoes,...
778 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Oct 2013 9:57am
30th Oct 2013 9:57am
Break dawn, break light.
He'll die
again and again
Playing out; set on repeat.
Mist settles above the stillness
and lisps the water's edge.
Its harmony gracing
the ever dull,
moon lit sands.
I thought I'd escape
just for a little while.
Drink
and sing
to drown him out.
Not here,
no.
Here, it is worse.
The screams are louder.
I remember her jagged edge,
rigid
and cruel.
Twisting into her
forced attempt to comfort
Hardly...
again and again
Playing out; set on repeat.
Mist settles above the stillness
and lisps the water's edge.
Its harmony gracing
the ever dull,
moon lit sands.
I thought I'd escape
just for a little while.
Drink
and sing
to drown him out.
Not here,
no.
Here, it is worse.
The screams are louder.
I remember her jagged edge,
rigid
and cruel.
Twisting into her
forced attempt to comfort
Hardly...
772 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th Oct 2013 00:04am
28th Oct 2013 00:04am
Cold Metal, Smooth Lips
He'd die
again and again
Playing out; set on repeat.
I'm within a closed,
private cinema.
I thought I'd escape
just for a little while.
Drink
and sing
to drown him out.
Not here,
no.
Here, it is worse.
The screams are louder.
I lied to me.
Louder,
he screams.
Softer,
I sing.
I cannot ignore,
I drink again.
I walk
through the dark
to a point where I stop
this point,
here.
A...
again and again
Playing out; set on repeat.
I'm within a closed,
private cinema.
I thought I'd escape
just for a little while.
Drink
and sing
to drown him out.
Not here,
no.
Here, it is worse.
The screams are louder.
I lied to me.
Louder,
he screams.
Softer,
I sing.
I cannot ignore,
I drink again.
I walk
through the dark
to a point where I stop
this point,
here.
A...
774 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
26th Oct 2013 3:15pm
26th Oct 2013 3:15pm
The Waters Drag me
I sift
through diluted waters
tainted in blood.
Of those I loved
Of those who sought elimination.
I see them all before me
speaking in tongues I shouldn't understand
and sing in songs
of lives I have taken
and lost.
There he sits
within my cataracts
but a mere memory.
There, she embraces him.
Her, of my deepest affection
They cannot be real
They're both here,
before me.
Caressing my trigger finger,
soothing my nerves
relaxing me.
But now wind gusts
cast them...
through diluted waters
tainted in blood.
Of those I loved
Of those who sought elimination.
I see them all before me
speaking in tongues I shouldn't understand
and sing in songs
of lives I have taken
and lost.
There he sits
within my cataracts
but a mere memory.
There, she embraces him.
Her, of my deepest affection
They cannot be real
They're both here,
before me.
Caressing my trigger finger,
soothing my nerves
relaxing me.
But now wind gusts
cast them...
695 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by AscensionES (Aptilneilrionaltion)
