Submissions by Lothbrok
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
25th Aug 2018 5:52pm
25th Aug 2018 5:52pm
Death to all beauty
So who on Earth birthed these minds?
and Mother why,
do all the good ones always die?
I guess after all this time,
it’s hard to wrap my head around it
but after-all don’t you pick the most beautiful flowers in the garden of different kinds?
Painted with carefully crafted hues
it’s still perfection even in all its splattered infractions
And I can’t stand the tortured artist,
always cursed with the most unexpected exit
whether a hearse or a padded cell,
and he who fell is no longer the man who once prevailed,
it’s...
and Mother why,
do all the good ones always die?
I guess after all this time,
it’s hard to wrap my head around it
but after-all don’t you pick the most beautiful flowers in the garden of different kinds?
Painted with carefully crafted hues
it’s still perfection even in all its splattered infractions
And I can’t stand the tortured artist,
always cursed with the most unexpected exit
whether a hearse or a padded cell,
and he who fell is no longer the man who once prevailed,
it’s...
#love
#hate
#dark
#death
#art
581 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
23rd Aug 2018 2:57pm
23rd Aug 2018 2:57pm
State of Mental Health
I breathe in the hint of ambrosia, while heaving from my nectar
in the name of Dionysus,
I insist to indulge my vices,
a self-proclaimed Pisces
swimming in circles
drowning in familiarity,
god’s remarks are like a symposia of the dying arts,
I withhold my greatest work
until this body Ive fallen upon is falling apart,
she’s an architect a plagiarist of
The floating city of Angels
that I follow helplessly in the shadows,
bless my living artificial heart, she makes heaven on earth,
she stole the wisdom
and deco...
in the name of Dionysus,
I insist to indulge my vices,
a self-proclaimed Pisces
swimming in circles
drowning in familiarity,
god’s remarks are like a symposia of the dying arts,
I withhold my greatest work
until this body Ive fallen upon is falling apart,
she’s an architect a plagiarist of
The floating city of Angels
that I follow helplessly in the shadows,
bless my living artificial heart, she makes heaven on earth,
she stole the wisdom
and deco...
#love
#depression
#dark
#death
#illness
667 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Aug 2018 1:25pm
22nd Aug 2018 1:25pm
That Icy Gaze
Stumbled in a daze,
her icy gaze,
ripped my veins out of the way and let that rabbit role grow bigger in the empty space,
I'm a slave to endorphins,
please give me more,
I want to feel the pain,
until I’m bruised blue and broken
it's become an obsession
that I haven't even begun to embrace yet,
take my brain apart
and find the dianetics no longer play their part.
I'm still a monster to myself
and it's leaking through,
who knew...
I'd be so damaging
so beautiful and consuming,
I find her...
her icy gaze,
ripped my veins out of the way and let that rabbit role grow bigger in the empty space,
I'm a slave to endorphins,
please give me more,
I want to feel the pain,
until I’m bruised blue and broken
it's become an obsession
that I haven't even begun to embrace yet,
take my brain apart
and find the dianetics no longer play their part.
I'm still a monster to myself
and it's leaking through,
who knew...
I'd be so damaging
so beautiful and consuming,
I find her...
#love
#breakup
#conflict
#lover
#illness
478 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
22nd Aug 2018 1:09pm
22nd Aug 2018 1:09pm
Stoic
What exhilaration,
It must’ve been...
though all emotions
around me are flaunted
My internal fault’s
that I stand stoic.
For witnessing
a flood of crimson
From a passionate blade kissed
Brings nothing,
not even excitement
So I gaze upon my prison.
That fucking
alabaster pigment..
That raging cage that keeps
my composure overloaded,
And Yet I stand stoic...
It must’ve been...
though all emotions
around me are flaunted
My internal fault’s
that I stand stoic.
For witnessing
a flood of crimson
From a passionate blade kissed
Brings nothing,
not even excitement
So I gaze upon my prison.
That fucking
alabaster pigment..
That raging cage that keeps
my composure overloaded,
And Yet I stand stoic...
#anxiety
#depression
#SelfHarm #SelfDiscovery
#SelfHarm #SelfDiscovery
728 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
21st Aug 2018 10:10pm
21st Aug 2018 10:10pm
Cages of Ashen Lips
Its better to be broken
than subjected to their bitter hold,
and when her beauty starts to take it's toll
I plead it will be quick when that lust finally slits my throat.
My Vision shifted,
beyond the starry night skies,
to a widow,
a widow to what was heart’s deadly vice
She broke the chains that kept her cage,
and lost her only friend,
I was there with a rose in the hope I could mend,
She was an angel,
cleverly mangled.
by the lies of her lover's voice,
If I could help,
I would've without...
than subjected to their bitter hold,
and when her beauty starts to take it's toll
I plead it will be quick when that lust finally slits my throat.
My Vision shifted,
beyond the starry night skies,
to a widow,
a widow to what was heart’s deadly vice
She broke the chains that kept her cage,
and lost her only friend,
I was there with a rose in the hope I could mend,
She was an angel,
cleverly mangled.
by the lies of her lover's voice,
If I could help,
I would've without...
#anxiety
#love
#breakup #ForbiddenLove
#breakup #ForbiddenLove
919 reads
4 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
21st Aug 2018 3:06pm
21st Aug 2018 3:06pm
Vagrant (Experiment Not my usual work)
I think I’ll like being dead,
no one to bother me,
no voices in my head,
all just peace and quiet instead,
I want to be alone
in the afternoon of the great suicide that painted the skies red,
It’s always Art for the sake of it,
Death for the sake of boredom,
life is what you make it
and mine was to end it all.
(word play sabbatical)
I once was tricked by an addict
whose wit was afflicted
with withdrawals nicked
by the same stick
that gave him that rush after all,
he sat and licked his...
no one to bother me,
no voices in my head,
all just peace and quiet instead,
I want to be alone
in the afternoon of the great suicide that painted the skies red,
It’s always Art for the sake of it,
Death for the sake of boredom,
life is what you make it
and mine was to end it all.
(word play sabbatical)
I once was tricked by an addict
whose wit was afflicted
with withdrawals nicked
by the same stick
that gave him that rush after all,
he sat and licked his...
#friendship
#drugs
#MentalHealth #FeelingLost
#MentalHealth #FeelingLost
810 reads
3 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Aug 2018 12:32pm
21st Aug 2018 12:32pm
Deadly Melody
And here she stands
God’s deadly little melody,
But I was taught that I’ve been forsaken and broken
born into a body
that my mind continuously fought and finally ripped apart.
Though she was the Angel
whose wings granted envy
but tell me.
What gracious all-loving Father
would lead his lamb to the slaughter?
Mangled with intent
and loves a broken record
still after all laughter’s the greatest weapon
to a blue eyed devil
The predator that has come to croon the Heaven sent.
It went like this ...
God’s deadly little melody,
But I was taught that I’ve been forsaken and broken
born into a body
that my mind continuously fought and finally ripped apart.
Though she was the Angel
whose wings granted envy
but tell me.
What gracious all-loving Father
would lead his lamb to the slaughter?
Mangled with intent
and loves a broken record
still after all laughter’s the greatest weapon
to a blue eyed devil
The predator that has come to croon the Heaven sent.
It went like this ...
#love
#conflict
#confessional #SelfReflection
#confessional #SelfReflection
645 reads
4 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
20th Aug 2018 10:54pm
20th Aug 2018 10:54pm
Heathen
My Dear friends
won’t you please
whisper sweet nothings in my ear,
I want to feel them start to sour
with each disagreement,
have endings with evenings
of sorrowful thought
and gilded promises,
and when I should die
before the rest of you,
sever my ears
so I can listen to all
who speak to me in the afterlife,
I’ll archive my favorite speeches
and lectures that fall upon my demise...
Forget me not
for the forgive me knots
wrapped around my neck
so no God sought
shall forbid me now, ...
won’t you please
whisper sweet nothings in my ear,
I want to feel them start to sour
with each disagreement,
have endings with evenings
of sorrowful thought
and gilded promises,
and when I should die
before the rest of you,
sever my ears
so I can listen to all
who speak to me in the afterlife,
I’ll archive my favorite speeches
and lectures that fall upon my demise...
Forget me not
for the forgive me knots
wrapped around my neck
so no God sought
shall forbid me now, ...
#identity
#suicide
#MentalHealth
#SelfReflection
#morality
589 reads
3 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Aug 2018 2:46pm
20th Aug 2018 2:46pm
To die as an art
Rodents scurry
around my head’s attic
gnawing on what’s left to ponder
at nights where my ideas
tend to wander and depart
I can feel their little nails
tapping across the tiles
but now finally broken into tiny piles
this is where lunacy has it’s start.
I wish for a wallowing to occur
though my audience’s opulence
might silence my pain in time
But all that glitter and gold
is hard for them to part
I hope in time what I do will render you speechless
and Death will be my greatest work of art..
around my head’s attic
gnawing on what’s left to ponder
at nights where my ideas
tend to wander and depart
I can feel their little nails
tapping across the tiles
but now finally broken into tiny piles
this is where lunacy has it’s start.
I wish for a wallowing to occur
though my audience’s opulence
might silence my pain in time
But all that glitter and gold
is hard for them to part
I hope in time what I do will render you speechless
and Death will be my greatest work of art..
#conflict
#bipolar
#confessional
#MentalHealth
#SelfReflection
566 reads
4 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
20th Aug 2018 2:35pm
20th Aug 2018 2:35pm
A cubicle is for a cubist
I’ve got a disease inside of my brain,
much like pathogen,
of a considerable strain,
I’ve grown paranoid in every paragraph,
a parable of Icarus and the sun, have I flown too close?
and now what have I done?.
I see visions of happiness,
in Picasso-like precision,
but my heaven’s broken into tiny prisms,
where the light reflects
my inhibitions,
though I pander still.
much like pathogen,
of a considerable strain,
I’ve grown paranoid in every paragraph,
a parable of Icarus and the sun, have I flown too close?
and now what have I done?.
I see visions of happiness,
in Picasso-like precision,
but my heaven’s broken into tiny prisms,
where the light reflects
my inhibitions,
though I pander still.
#anxiety
#bipolar
#insomnia
#MentalHealth
#SelfDiscovery
504 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by Lothbrok
