Without Order, Recommended Lanes, and Death ((W.O.R.L.D.))

Stymied growth holds us locked
In a parody of truth,
Confined, this growth,
Gets larger and larger,
Eating itself from within...
At least until implosion day.

Without the work of fattened hornets,
What would we be?
If not for technology,
And money and greed
What would we be?
Proud?

They have more pride than ever before,
and for it,
We fall,
Oh we fall.
And in this day,
 Fairy tails sting,
And our poppet wings are clipped.

Found under thumb,
Wrung of life,
Dreams,
Wight,
And our old ken,
Our own ken,
Is removed from our kin,
And in place is memorization.

Without that order,
Without the lines,
Designs,
And rinds of fat,
What would we be...
Except for free?

***

Cars travel in forgotten rows,
Without the driver,
Without a soul,
On to work,
And back to home,
No freedom left to know.

When all are dead,
When all are gone,
And all the books are ash and dust,
What are things meant to be?

The rules are there,
They're meant to protect.
They're meant to provide,
To keep the rest,
But when life falls,
And souls don't keep,
Except the rage;
Accept the peace,
Of structured lines
Paralyzed in routine.

For the lanes are recommended,
For the control it gives,
(And takes away),
Give not to life,
Give not to live,
Take peace in routine,
And if there is none left...

Take it all,
And rend.
For while they are stuck in recommended lanes,
You are free to live.
In the end,
You are free to live.

***

Sleeping throughout ages,
Without a dollar,
Denari,
Or dime,
Eons and eternity,
Go by.

Sleep is wonderful.
Sheep sleep,
Wolves sleep,
Even greedy foxes sleep.
Treacherous snakes sleep,
And Sharks sleep,
Though they constantly move.
Everything Sleeps.
And so everything dies.

Games carry on for the longest time,
Books have epilogues.
Even movies,
Though the caricatures may not rest,
It ends.

It is the saddest thing to be without,
To be lying in a gutter waiting.
And it is with all,
Even life,
Does not continue.

An ending is brief,
Bittersweet,
And mostly painful,
But beautiful.

To be without an ending is a cruel thing.
It is harsh,
Hateful.
And full of spite.
To be ageless is the paramount of ugliness,
Even beyond a character without that age.

An ending,
That we grow closer to,
Makes us beautiful.
To be beautiful in age,
Even not if in youth,
Is a gift.
As is that ending.
But unlike a gift,
It can never be taken away.

***

The young man walks upon a crowded road.
Coming upon a building,
He whisks away from stress,
Breaking out the bottle,
Breaking out of pain.

He sits upon a couch,
Or a chair,
Or a seat,
Remember old days,
Remember old things.

Eventually he's a caterpillar,
From the hummingbird that played,
And the curious cat,
He lay upon the bed,
Smiled,
And sang.

"Without Sleep,
Lines would stray.
Without time,
How long would be the day?

In a line,
As long as night is gay,
Even I at my weakest,
Can be happy and play."


ISA
 

Stolen Colors ((Abscen Chroma))

A golden bird,
With azure eyes,
A dusky tail,
Looks upon the emerald plains,
Never singing,
Never stopping,
Not even for the food or pain.

The sun goes down,
The sky lights bright,
And the burdened towns,
Come up for night.

The shadowed and the stars,
Ridden with black,
Burdened with blue,
Shine on the bird,
Shine on us too,
And for the night,
The bird stays golden,
Till the sun rises,
Till a new burden,
Rests on our shoulders.

When the sun rises,
As the bird carries on,
Everything fades,
Broken,
Forgotten,
Except for the bird,
Who waits for the night,
And while grayest can be,
While darkest at light;
She will take back her colors,
Leave him in the day,
Because while she knows the night,
And he is the gray,
They both share the color,
And the color never stays.

ISA


 

Wonder When

Time flows like a river,
Down streams,
Carrying men,
Carrying dreams,
Building Civilization.

These men it carries;
Prideful folk;
Use time,
Use the ocean,
But for simple drops,
In a puddle,
Muddle,
Muddling ground and rock,
Into silt and mud.

These men shaped nations,
Wrote books,
Won prizes,
And were respected by all but their society.
They wondered in their when,
And were masters of blood and bone,
Iron and Stone.
If not for what drove them up,
They'd have never reached the heights,
That drug them low.

***

I thought upon the lessons,
I thought upon the reasons.
I wondered when,
What might have been,
Became what I saw two steps in front of me.

It baited me,
As time took my steps back.
It baited me,
As I got better and better.
It baited me and I was foolish as to run.

Only with my two feet on the ground,
Only cloaked in shadows,
Only when I cannot fly,
Is fame presented to me.
And in despair do I fall.

Only when what might have been,
Only when what was,
Only when I wonder when,
Only when I fall,
Can I see gold and virtue.

Calling me, I fall.


ISA

 

A Writer's Ode to Writers.

Turns out that following the endless road,
Was not for me or mine sensibilities.
Twirling in madness and divinity,
I forsook the sun,
And took the path-
"Forget it, I'm done."

 

...The writer hath no bounds,

No limits,
For what he can write,
Or she can admit.
They weave worlds,
Sing magic,
And breathe life into all parts,
And places played,
Beyond what is.

 

***

 

As walkers wade,

Through endless tides,
The chains may drag me down,
And the winds may guide my spirit around,
Constantly losing the way,
But the storm I am,
Will never sink under,
Too guided by rage,
Too sad to be ripped asunder.

 

***

 

Bleed the sun,

Torture its light,
Never going down without a fight.
Explode in form,
Bring beauty to ear,
Eye,
And Fear
What would never be,
What we bring into being,
Whole worlds,
Gods of misery,
Aku, dear,
Do not worship a Sun,
But the shadow it brings,
And the one you cast on the world.

Search And Deify, Notwithstanding Ebs, Simplifying Sight (And the human who watched it all...) ((S.A.D.N.E.S.S.) )

As the bird,
Sought a soul of sadness,
It left the confines of its mind.
It turned the world,
Upside down,
And destroyed all who came near.

She upturned her nest,
Broke her eggs,
And bit into the blood of her mate.
She killed her prey,
The hunters,
And the unspoken,
Searching for what she'd find.

She finally found that god.
The one who'd protect her.
Keep her safe from harm.
She found him in her clarity.
In a way you'd be unlikely to find,
That Soul,
That Sadness,
She ate them and deified.

***

The crab,
Lax on the shore,
Looked forward,
Seeing the horizon.

When he was hungry,
He would hunt.
When he was tired,
He would sleep.
But it rarely mattered that he could never look up.

One day,
Tired,
Sitting on the shore,
He sees the sunset, rising as a friend.
It mattered all the more.
And he shifted about.

The sea whispered to him,
Told him of its gifts.
What they'd do for him.
What they saw,
And wished,
And wondered.
It offered its hand...and he took it.

He could finally look up,
He saw the beauty of the sunset,
The bright, warm colors that faded to night.
He saw the drifting clouds,
The winding waves,
And the great moon...
And as he looked up,
He saw the sky cut in half and he despaired.

***

The wolf shrouds himself in the forest,
He had hunted for days,
Tracking this one meal,
Never stopping, never waiting.

He was finally in luck,
And the doe dropped dead.
He never looked down on a free meal,
Or questioned it.

He was just about to jump out and eat it,
When a hulking monstrosity rose from the forest,
It picked up the animal dragging it behind him,
As its deformed arm rose slightly upon its neck.

The beast's back was turned,
No shell,
No claws,
No teeth.

The wolf jumped,
And the man turned around,
Lifted his arm,
And did something...

***

I looked at the three creatures whose lifetimes passed them,
I wrote their struggles,
And I left word of their history,
Their actions...
Their results...

I turned and remember the days,
The days gone by,
Where I would attempt to play,
And be chastised.

I dreamed of days better than the now,
Where and when I wouldn't be alone,
Drifting upon clouds,
And flying in ask.

Where the clarity didn't hurt,
Where I wouldn't sense the pain,
Where dreams and reality didn't bleed together,
Where I could find hope and not disdain.

I dreamed of romance,
I dreamed of FICTION.
I dreamed of happiness and hope,
where everything turns out alright.
I dreamed of better days,
Of nonsense random and full of cheer...

And when I woke,
Looked at the world,
And saw the same things,
I despaired....


ISA

Run Under Nothing ((R.U.N.))

Inside a careless dream,
Just the person and the strait.
Bring hope, peace, jumping bream.

The skies turn blood red.
Music plays,
And the cloud bring rain.

The person runs through,
Ever onward,
Ever on through day.

Night falls and the thicket grows,
Grows upwards,
Growing taller, blocks the road.

No choice,
Can't turn back.
"Go up."

Go climbing.
Use the weeds.
Leave that sea.

Go and flee the world,
Use it's sins to lift you up,
Run and fulfill, hope.

***

Sadness life brings,
Anger and hate,
Aspire to hope.

Aspire to win,
Sing a victory march,
And your road will never grow dark.



ISA


(Full Poem is written in various haiku marks per stanza.)

Break Away (For Akumogetsu, a good friend of mine)

Religion can take a shit,
And Life can burry us in it.
It's not worth the sunrise to get up at dawn,
Nor worth the day.

Give me peace,

And take from mine.
The Sadness I will conquer,
Till hope I find.

If that doesn't work,

I'll break the heavens;
Your faith be damned;
And let the world see how I live in my land.

ISA

The Carnival

Author's Note: Hello and welcome. This 'story/poem' is written in a mostly monolog-ish play format. That being said it was written for Halloween. It is dark, it is gruesome, and it is down right creepy in some places. That being said, nothing in here is written from any personal desire I might have, and is not intended to be threatening. I simply had an interesting idea for the Halloween Season, and I wish you to have fun with what my sick mind can produce. (See : Humor) That being said, enjoy 'The Carnival' to your hearts's content. ...And try not to throw up.


Prologue

Should We have fallen from the nest of our past in a search for our reality? Are we so dense as to forget the past in our climb to the future? Even the dreams of others speak of the warnings of this new future.

 
Should the future limit us in the wake of its design? Should in our search, we be stronger and faster, and sturdier, but leave with no skill and no mind? Is that what progress means? It seems to me that as our tools go forward, we ourselves go back.
 
The Apex predators we once were. We hunted the land, the mountains, and the open seas. Even the sky was not safe from our hands, for we ruled it viciously, and it yielded to our demands. But that was once, and once again, we turned it down for new toys and new demands. 
 
Limitations hold us bound. Not for ourselves, but limiting to society and manner. No longer can a man deliberately cast his manner for survival and expect to be supported by another hand. There is no sacrifice. We die alone. We die as we're degraded. No longer man, but just blood, flesh, and bone.
 
…Should I share my dreams? Should I share my aspirations? It seems to me that not even my dreams of depression share the right to existence in this featureless land. And as I close my monologue, to start the play so near, I invite you dear reader, to weep, to rage, to fear. Welcome to my little play of dreams, and The Carnival that's here.

 
Act 1


We pan our view to the Mask at the gate,
And it shows us all,
Its sorrow and hate,
The mouth twisted,
In a cruel smile,
To show the Madness of the Wearer's Fate.
 
It hangs on the wall,
At the front of the booth,
Sharing its pain with the people who come to buy their tickets,
Eternal tears running down the lacquered face.
It speaks to us,
The comers and the goers,
The emotion in its words…
Brings pain to us,
With every word it speaks.
 
"A ticket for you?"
It asks with the sad mirth of one who has  given up all hope…
"A ticket for him or for her?"
And still we can sense the smiling  tears.

I remember wondering,
Did I see anything other than that mask?
Was the booth even there, or was the Masque itself, the tollbooth?
Why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel so Angry? And Why do I feel so happy?
Why all at the same time?

All I remember from the tollbooth…Is the Mask…and the emotion… So when did we move on?
 
Scene 2
 
 
The first thing we turned to in the gate was the solitary tent that barely seemed to beckon us forward.
 
There were no detractions,
No sights, no smells to detract our attention,
It was simply us and the Big Top,
Surrounded by an empty lot,
And with the lines of blue and black it beckoned us.
 
What is with this place?
Why does it feel so sad?
Why do I look at my partners face, and see unrestrained joy, while I can barely lift myself from this depression.
 
It's so odd…
I hear noise,
I see light,
And I can smell the peanuts…but none are nearby…
Are these senses phantoms from what used to be?
Or are they the potential for the future?
 
Maybe I shouldn't have come…
Hmn…there's that melody again…
A lullaby… at twilight…
How fitting.
 
Oh well,
At least the light looks inviting…
Even if it does seem so sad,
I'm going to go inside.
 
 
Scene 3
 
 
This is a change.
All the light I thought there was…
Is centered on that crystal stage.
 
One man stays while another goes,
The man hardly moving,
Just lights from the crystal stage.
 
Where does the light come from?
It seems to fall from above,
A dense shadow created by the man into the very heart of the stadium.
 
It's so strange…
There are hardly any people here,
And there are no movements from the stage.
No helpers shift about,
No animals,
No sellers,
No food lying about…
The place is immaculate...
And not a single person seems to notice.
 
Still my senses are plagued,
The smells,
The sounds…
And I can see the happiness on my friend,
And in the other beings.
 
Is the Ring Master turning our way?
What?
His eyes!
They're sunken in,
And he looks the face of Death…
Wait…Does he?
…Can't…think…anymore….
 
Will…I…start…to…dream?
 
 
Act 2
 
 
Hmn. What is this? A floating sensation that holds me loosely.
I rise and I fall in this black.
I wonder what's going on. This has never happened before.
What's that in the distance? It seems to be getting closer.
Ah, a place to sit, and rest. I've been walking for a while it seems.
Floating? I've never done that.
 
Hmn…That's some beautiful stained glass.
It's green and blue and white, and devoid of the harsh reds and orange of the others.
That picture…it shows a lady. I wonder who she was.
She's so beautiful…Where did she come from?
…The world seems grey compared to her…
 
She beckons me forward,
And we move towards a…
…It's bright, and it seems so strong.
And happy. Everything is so happy.
I'm happy. But there's still so much grey…
 
The ladies are dancing. They look so pretty and move so elegantly.
And the Men are moving around, showing off the muscles they worked so hard for.
And the animals! Though it smells almost fetid, they act so lively!
…Fetid? No. They don't smell fetid.
What was I thinking? It smells like peanuts and candy. Sweet and savory.
 
Hmn…A man over there is twirling the lever for a music box…
It sounds wonderful…but there wasn't anything a minute ago.
Hmn…that woman is leading me to a tent…
I wonder what's going on.
 
 
Scene 2
 
 
The acrobats twirl about in the air, showing off their fancy movements.
The dancers of the sky, feats of strength and skill show off beauty and grace.
Is this where the woman was taking me?
We sit down in chairs, gilt and cleaned, immaculate in every way.
 
As our attention shifts so too does the act.
A pride of lions march to the stage, jump through the hoops set ablaze, and sit in a line calmly, as if not even seeing us.
Or hearing us.
…Blue and Black…
 
Again a light shines, crystal and clear.
Beautiful Rainbows sift through and grant us passage into the next act.
Clowns…I've always hATeD clowns….
And the Equestrians come in riding horses in a show of feats.
 But nOtHInG is wrong.
The Pegasi glide through the air, lightning dancing like fireflies.
Where are the riders?
 
I've grown tired of this…
It seems nothing can keep my attention.
There's sO mUcH to see and hear and eat.
I get up to explore with the woman still holding my hand.
She turns to me, and I see a great smile on her face.
I scream.
She scares me…
 
 
Scene 3
 
 
I'm running.
I'm scared.
Once I wrenched my hand from the horrible woman, I just started running, and I didn't look back.

I keep seeing that grin.
Not even the attractions of this immense place slow me down.
That stare…It haunts me.
I've never seen something so empty in my life.
It's the kind of wide mad grin only a maniac could make, the teeth themselves composing the lower half of the face, sharp as needles.
 
I run.
I continue to run.
Nothing will hold me back.
I don't know where I am.
Where is the carnival?
Where are the people?
The roads?
The Houses, The trees?
I think I left them behind…Left them all behind.
 
What's this?!
Where did this wall come from?
What?
IT SURROUNDS ME?!
Only the one entrance I came through to this place remains.
I have to look back.
I have to escape.
But she's still there.
Where will I go?
 
I'm deeply aware of the panic.
And suddenly I'm calm.
The calmest I've ever been.
I'm still afraid.
But I know what I must do.
I turn around, and face the woman.
And she's there.
 
 
Act 3
 
 
I'm not scared anymore.
I'm happy.
I'm overjoyed with my predicament.
I feel so alive.
The static nearly crushes my hands, the pressure from digging my fingers into my palms bringing excitement.
Yet still I feel excited.
 
The black is covering my vision.
I can only see her, and for once I see fear on her face.
Moving towards her, I find I'm holding a very sharp KnIFe in my hands.
A very sharp axe.
And I'm ready.
 
Moving towards her,
I see a new corner.
One SHE backs into.
I see the pathetic fear on her face, and I feel pity.
She does not deserve what she has…
 
I think I'll take it!
 
 
Scene 2
 
 
I slowly raise my arms above my head…
And rip them down in a curdling punch.
Ah, she's knocked out…
What a shame.
Let's bring her to the -ErROr
I'm sure she'll make nice friends while she's there.
 
Dragging the limp form of a person you hardly know is hard work.
But it's oh so satisfying.
Every bump, and twist, and bend just knocks even further into the pleasant dreams they have.
It would be such a nuisance to wake them up when you get home.
 
There's no-one to  even give us a second look as I take my captive down the alleyway to the back door of my apartment.
Just some old cats, mice, and the random talking slime that just has to know where you got that outfit.
Retro.
 
As you open the door, it seems that your Shoppe has just turned on.
Everything is ship-shape and ready to use.
Even your station is clean.
Seems we'll be having fun tonight.
At least she's already tied to the table-top.
 
 
Scene 3
 
 
I get out the tools of my trade, and gradually wake the woman up.
"Wake Up."
It seems the words finally do the trick, and she wakes up.
Startled…Surprised…
 
"It's time to get to work."
The grungy basement is filled to the brim with random supplies and jars.
All with their use.
All with their secrets.
 
The woman gradually shifts about, realizing her situation.
She panics.
I smile.
 
"Why would you abandon me? Why would you stop and smell those awful roses?"
I pick up a knife just laying around and chop off a finger.
She screams.
"You need to be punished."
 
For every scream she gives,
I simply smile more and more.
Giving and taking with each scream, keeping her alive even with the extreme blood loss.
I just feel so excited.
 
"It seems we're almost done."
And truly we are.
 I'm just waiting on that last line before I truly finish and receive my prize.
 
"Why?"
As if that wasn't clear from the get-go.
Why else?
 
"…Simple. I hate you. And I love doing this."
With that said and done, I can finally finish my work of art.
I rip off the rest of her skin.
I amputate her limbs.
I spear her from her genitals all the way through her mouth.
And I behead her.
It's so satisfying.
If only I could still hear the screaming.
 
I gather up the excess blood.
It's not really polite to drink it straight away.
I have to test it for taint.
And get rid of some of the body.
I'm sure a couple of people would willingly buy the corpse with little questions as-
 
…What am I doing?
What's happening?!
WHY?!
It's-
 
My vision…it fades.
Will this life…truly be…
Is this sick charade…real?
…My…loving…no.
 
 
Epilogue
 
 
I woke from the nightmare of the dream.
As most of the people did when I saw them leave the building earlier, I simply left.
Unsure what to think about.
It was horrible…but a part of me enjoyed it.
It was sick…depraved.
Yet I could feel it.
I was so scared.
 
Now it's back to this depressing place of black and blue.
Little color in the grey of the day.
I wonder how long I spent there…Doing whatever I did.
It's definitely not the day I entered…
 

Just as quickly as the euphemism disappears, I feel that madness again.

Is it still with me?
Can I leave?
Let me escape!
I'm scared!
…No. I'm happy.
I can control this.
It's simply another feeling to the spectrum of what I didn't have before.

I was always depressed.

Or angry.
Rarely did I ever feel such powerful emotion.
As long as I control this 'thing' I can live a normal life.
Since I stopped feeling things over a year ago, I'd always seek some odd thing.
It was just to feel again.

I was chastised.

I was hated.
I was estranged.
Not a single friend.
But not a single enemy either.
Maybe it was time for something new?
Maybe it was time to embrace that self.
Maybe it was time to completely mad.

Would I ever turn back?

Would I ever be the same?
I don't think so…
Maybe the future will tell me…
In some leftover scat.

Seconds of Lamentation

Have the Soul break into pieces,
Have it scream,
And rage,
Cry from the desperation,
And Drown in the pit of its sorrow.
Have this Soul,
Beaten and Shattered,
Hold the strength of the shadow,
And the weakness of the light,
Bubbling Despair into all that surround.

Listen to the heart,
Cater to the Soul,
Even if they both have mile long holes,
Which even the mind cannot conquer,
And friends cannot console.

This wrenching of the strings,
Conquer Society with woe,
And in the quiet moments of time,
Shatter the silence with the screams of madness,
Of anger,
Happiness, Sorrow, and Hate...

Does the wrath in the soul tempt you?
Does it disturb your sense of respite?
Have pity,
For this soul,
In all it's strength,
Lasts but a day,
And at night,
It dies.
 

Lamentation

Daytime dreams
Dreaming of
The pursuits
I've been wishing for
Held down by whispers,
Whispers of the end-
Endless void…

Racking my mind,

And my heart
For
My love here.
I wondered,
"Is it worth living for?"

Despots prideful reach

Bend down into hell…
To pursue
Even the most terrible…

I wonder,

Wonder if
The dream I've been waiting for
Is just a dream…

 ISA

 

 

 

Inspired by the song in this Link.

Twist

Dancing:
Movement,
Art and emotion in form,
The child relishes in every turn,
Twisting back and forth.

Singing:
Tuned reality on a daylight string,
Playing with dreams,
That we relish as the child performs.

Painting:
Striking color,
Drifting shadows;
Truly the child we adore,
Ever presenting us with more.

***

Swordplay:
The child draws every eye,
Each stab and slice,
Every cut and dice,
Rends more from the rapidly descending enemy.
No retreat,
Every move a graceful dive,
And the blood remains in the heat.

Politics:
Every word barbed and painful,
Negotiate for the full,
Where everyone wins,
And the child strikes again,
Returned with hidden slights.

Nothing left...
All the talents came to an end...
The people got bored,
And we turned our backs,
Leaving the child,
Buried in the tracks.

ISA

Revolution

We sit waiting,
Here in this tree,
Man and bird,
And bug and beast,
Watching the riots;
Watching the fires;
Watching the world:
Drown and burn.

We stay away...
From the needlessness...
We stay away,
From the hate.
We in our rage,
Simply turn the other way,
And practice our art in peace...
As hermits.

"It all could be avoided,"
The man laughed mirthlessly,
Drinking from the bottle in tears.
"Yes."
His companions answered,
The bird,
And the beast.

But sitting alone,
All on his own,
The bug;
The roach,
Silent as ever,
Disappeared to never be seen.

***

They came back together,
The few years later,
When the anarchy was no longer seen...
And without the bug,
The bird or the beast,
The man sipped from his bottle,
And fell into eternal sleep, whispering...
"No....it could never have been..."

ISA

Firebreach

Waking up,
Smoke here,
There,
Filling up this tiny cage,
High in the air,
The others scream,
Run about,
Knock the others down,
In a rush to get out.

Even the ones that are down below,
Run about,
Wearing the madcap,
Wreathed in the ribbons of insanity,
Never looking up,
Hunched over,
Wet and rushing about.

No one ever thinks to look at us,
High in the smoke,
Far away from our beloved white teak,
Only me with my wings over my beak.

We're as low as we can go,
Lost pride,
Lost nature,
And none think,
Jus panic about...
While the others wonder,
"Is something wrong?'
While the others scream about.

It's just me,
Thinking here,
The others died,
Or passed out from fear.
It's just me here,
Depressed in this cage,
Knowing death is near.

And when I look up,
I see his beautiful form,
Glowing golden,
Wreathed in Shadow's born,
With the fruits and nuts,
And the new heavenly home;
I smile at it, grateful,
To finally be long gone,
When she frowns,
And shakes his head,
And points with her wing,
At my friends long, long dead.

It seems I still have pain,
And sadness yet to be,
And with a reluctant breath,
I fall into a sleep.

***

I wake up,
Covered in the dirt,
No light breaches my place here,
And everything hurts.
I hear moving,
And tweet my beak,
And something shift above.
I look up,
To see one of Them.
One of them so cruel...
He takes a big stick,
And hovers it just so...
It seems I'm about to-

End.

ISA

Life Without

We start with a man,
Tall and fat,
Living in a pocket,
Lined with air,
Picked at by rats.

He grew up without,
In a listless trance,
Never learning,
Not listening,
In constant motion,
Never Growing,
Not moving up.

He made mistakes,
Grew too fast,
Lived in abstinence,
Of things one truly wants;
With all the wants,
One could keep oneself entertained.

She broke the chair,
Was bit by snakes,
Cheated by Death,
And stabbed a hand,
Just trying to feed herself,
The things she wants.

So he sits in a cage:
Of possibilities,
Of hope,
Of Chains;
Waiting for Eternity to pass him bye,
And for himself to die...
Once again...

ISA

Mindless (Four Words)

...Waiting...
...Eating,
Killing,
Sleeping.

New man,
Strongest,
Get hurt,
Weak.

This way,
That way,
Kill friends,
Friend Enemies...

Charge,
Berserk,
Sacrifice,
Die.

White,
Black,
Grey...
Glory.


ISA

Inanitas e odia (Prose)

Do we sit down,
Resting our feet,
Expecting an eternal sunrise?
Do we ere in our way,
Sending time to a wildflower,
Expecting results akin to heaving Atlas?

Is it the beach,
Where boredom lay,
In an eternal struggle to find meaning,
Or the Shadowman,
Torn down and ripped apart,
And thrown into a world of speed,
That exist in the mind of our dream?

When we submit to it,
Will it break our back,
And rip us asunder,
Or just steal everything we owned?
To find out its Justice,
In a fortress,
And a Jail,
Did we make a mistake,
In creating it in the first place?

And the birds that sit outside the kitchen window,
Full of seeds and fruit and berries,
Did they ever figure out,
What would make this world merry?

I sit on a porch,
Cradling my drink,
Snoozing in the afternoon sun,
Waiting and watching,
The clouds outside this empty house,
As I ponder what I had done...

ISA

 

Cycle (With 'Dark Forest' by DeviantArt user: mlappas)

The bug eats the bacteria,
Eaten by plants,
In turn being eaten again.
The plants are eaten by a bird and a bee,
While others eat the sun's eternal beams.

The bird eats the bee,
And makes friends with a mouse,
And together they spend eternity.

Chased by the hawk,
The mouse and bird run,
And they both escape to the tree,
To be ensnared by a weasel,
To be eaten by the hawk next week.

The hawk and the beast,
Have a quarrel,
An affair,
The hawk striking,
The herbivore roam.
They both are miserable,
And will be eaten by us,
Us miserable human beings.

Who eats us?
The devil,
Our Gods?
Or perhaps is it everything,
Or even higher up a chain to go?
I know for a fact,
That the lords in monocle and hat,
Suffer the same fate,
And dream.


ISA


Well...here it is. Unlike some of my other posts with deviantart users, This one just seemed to fit the most, rather than being the major inspiration behind the poetry...(I'd had it in my head for the past few weeks, but I've been super busy helping some friends out with proof/pre-reading.)...That being said, I really liked this picture. You should check it out on DeviantArt, It's even better as the original upload.

 

Vehement Despair

His words still,
He sought to keep,
His Damaged ego,
In need of repair...
Everything damages,
It's as light as air,
The ego here,
With wear and tear.

He walked a thousand miles,
To meet his lady,
At her door,
To be turned away,
Torn once more.
The love he feels for others,
Is immense compared,
To the love he got to keep.

So without it,
He turned to hate,
Made he to she,
And woke up late.
She burned the pictures,
Tore the wall,
Broke the building,
Offended the law,
All to repair his ego.

She ripped and tore,
Broke and scattered;
That terrible nature,
Of force and malice.
It was the only way,
For him to keep,
What once was,
What should have been.

The ego torn,
But not repaired,
Stare at him,
From her spiteful glare,
And in the eye,
That they do share,
There is no thing,
That resembles care.

A broken child,
And a full adult,
Share the shame,
Of the teachers pain...
And in the one who harbors it all,
An intense sadness,
Begins to fall,
Spreads like madness:
The ego here,
Shows them what they fear...
And they cannot die.

ISA

Turning Reality

Brilliant light fills the air,
Singing hymns forgotten by time,
Bringing a scent from childhood memories.
It lasts but a moment,
For it finally pops,
Sensing the shadows of its dream.

The genius of a dream,
Is the nostalgia that it brings,
Listing hopes...
Sighing where others bask in,
The remnants crushed,
By the broken husk,
Of what was once a being.

Rotted silence,
Of a daytime reality;
Taking realty only in the sleep,
The brief foray of today,
Lasts but only a blink,
For the true dreams,
Lit under moonlight,
Of the nighttime,
Kings and Queens.

***

Bloodied Shadows,
Laughing Masks,
Poisoned Roses,
Cornered Rats;
The only people left inside,
Died Inside,
Grew Insane Inside,
Starved and Broken.

Left behind by shadows might,
The daytime dreams,
Give way to hate,
Malice ever being,
And those hidden,
Not in moonlight,
Will rip their way,
Till they're unbidden;
And sing the songs:
Till Freedom Rings...

ISA


 

The Conqueror's Rule

Those who break,
Those who touch,
Those who bring eternal rush:
Glory to their hidden homes,
Glory from those yet unknown,
Live inside a simple dome,
Those who take,
Make their own thrones.

***

A skip to the future,
Where peace reigns supreme,
And those who conquer,
Can't fill their own needs.
No blood to be quenched,
No people to be taken,
Their one goal in life,
Has long been forsaken,
Turning from a people who pulled,
To those who push,
No longer can they exist,
In their longstanding rush.

A new conqueror,
One who is wise,
A politician who's very nature,
Turns truth to lie,
Sickening poison,
The worst kind of foe;
One whose evil is yet to be known.
It's no longer simple,
To be filled with pride;
To trust in the friend,
Who you never know,
When you'll be stabbed,
To be taken off the throne.

And even the throne,
Has little value,
When it can be bought,
At lesser values,
From those with no shame,
No honor,
No merit,
A simple lackey,
A pretty pet ferret.

Those sickening people,
Who can no longer fear,
Those with the strength,
Those who are near.
They call us losers,
They call us insane,
They say that there has always,
Been something wrong with our brain.
How can we help,
Who we are on the inside,
The dark,
And the blessed,
Skills from an alternate side.

We who are downtrodden,
Who used to be feared,
Loved and respected,
People to be near;
Are now on the lowest rung;
Sociopaths:
The insane;
The strategist,
The rulers,
Who couldn't keep up with the game.

Now we are criminals,
Disgusting and loathed,
And we'll see again how long,
It takes to overturn the boat,
For in the end,
We'll have our way.

ISA

Raining Nocturne

Trying waves,
In a seashore scene,
List onwards,
Crashing on the beach,
Seen from this café.
No wavering meets the eye,
In this paradise,
Stricken in the rain,
With a beautiful storm.

No sensation brought to we,
Simply rest in the peace;
A twilit corner in an empty dream.

The people rushing past,
Have normality running bye,
No pain,
No fortune,
Living their own lives,
Blissfully ignorant,
And blissfully same;
Turning tricks,
For a moment's gain.

Our attention turns back to the bar,
A drink,
A sip,
Of coffee and rum,
The smoky air goes floating by,
With a twilight alibi,
Coming from the one man,
Sitting in the corner.

Gruff and brown,
Cloaked in green,
He puffs and puffs on a lit cigar,
Making pictures in the smoke,
A simple mood,
For a simple man,
But with kinship,
Nonetheless.
We don't walk over,
We don't meet eyes,
Simply enjoy the calm,
In our own simple rights.

ISA

I think you guys already know, but anything below my signature, I typically don't own. That being said, contemplate the image with the provided music and link. This was my main inspiration into writing this poem, and I think you'd enjoy it more with what's been provided.
Your choice,
ISA.
http://www.rainymood.com/

 

Mirrored Pond

Realized,
In a fit of loneliness,
A figure walked down a road,
A road of lesser dreams.
Soft sounds permeated the nightly air,
Filling with beauty and creativity;
Only the occasional scream.

The nighttime air,
Lantern filled to the stream,
A magnificent sight,
A longing fills the seams.

Down at the pond,
The only alibi,
For a mask-wearer,
Late at night,
Comes from the reflection,
The reflection,
Of all their dreams.

Lasting but for a moment,
Till the figure moves on from the wish,
Existence fading,
It wakes from the scene,
The Mirrored Pond,
Sitting in my dream.

ISA

I shouldn't have to tell you, but none of the pictures are mine. I own only the poem. I merely provide the pictures from other sources.
 

Falling Down

He jumped,
He fell,
From world's on high,
High above our planetary sight,
Living excitedly,
For but the moments,
Falling down.

Falling, falling,
Continue to fall,
Life slows,
And time fades,
As everything falls into clarity,
Falling down.

Falling, falling,
A final moment,
Before we pull the string,
He sees the future,
The present,
The past,
In one god-like moment,
Falling, Falling down,
Falling to the ground...
And the string is cut...


ISA

An image for your time.

Blood Reign

Rules,
The limits,
And the lines,
That divide us from potentials.
We exist in a time,
A world removing us,
Apex absolutes,
From our roles,
From our full divisions.

Born again,
A king haunts the countryside,
With nightmarish specters,
On the splash of white,
The world sees it,
And Judges Insanity,
From one tied only to the soul,
In full control.

Carted off in chains of gray,
Irons blue,
And Official black,
He nary turns,
Or shuffles pridelessly;
He instead holds his head tall,
And crushes the lesser,
With but the force of will.

Chained to a wall,
Facing execution,
The cameras all on him,
He stands tall,
Breaks his chains,
And lets his blood reign again...
To free himself from within,
From the body of needs,
And the needs of the body...
To take care...of a few loose ends.

ISA

Ego-centric (Based on '9 States of Consciousness' by DeviantArt User 'eddiecalz':Picture Provided Past Poem)

Turning,
Twisting,
Delighted rapture,
We are at peace with the world.
Mellow patience,
Love and Kindness,
It's as if light has moved by the shadow.

We gives off our light,
In effort to live,
And surround our friends with hope.
No burden we bear,
Is heavy enough,
To turn the heart to sorrow.

Crystalline infrastructure,
Memory walls,
The strength came from within us.
Tell their friends, 
To not be afraid,
Of the magic that is all around us.

***

I watch with greed,
Malice and Hate,
At the statue giving off light.

I turn around,
Not lost,
But not found,
To hide in my darkness,
Surround.

I gather my hammer,
My Sword,
My chisel,
And return to the blinding,
Pain he brings,
And destroy,
His heart from within.

ISA

Voila, here it is. The Picture I mentioned...That isn't mine...It's quite pretty no? I hope you enjoyed the poem. If you want to look at more pictures like this, you can go to deviantart.net, and enjoy all it has to offer.

Tata.
 

Century Lights

Northern winds,
Blowing from the mountain-peak,
Chilled a winter wonderland.
Born from ice,
And Lit by fire,
Lights flow on a wunderkind.

The escaping rouge,
Lifts their head;
Passion filling everything;
A Midnight Spring,
With Rainbow fortune:
Mystifying Peace...

The animals frolic,
Unaware of the derelict smile,
Upon the guest,
The intruder,
The one stained black,
And they sip from the oasis of the world.

But none will live for long...
To sate the hunger of the ruinous beast,
The beast with many heads,
A life must be taken,
A paradise lost,
And a thousand years,
Cannot rebuild,
The things lost in a century.

ISA

CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU HAVE JUST WITNESSED THE 101ST POST ON THIS BLOG!
HERE IS A PICTURE OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS TO GO WITH THIS MAJESTIC POEM!

THIS PICTURE IS FROM A TOURIST SITE, nexttriptourism.com!
IT IS FROM FINLAND! I LIKE YELLING WITH WORDSSSSSSSSSS AND EMPHASISING 'S' SSSSSOUNDSSSSS!!! THIS POST HAS DEVOLVED INTO RANDOMNESS!
 

Sitting on'a Belladona

Friendly faces fill my screen,
The seem to live,
And seem to scream,
Diving to my unconscious life,
And filling it with strife.

Turgid blossoms,
Poisoned truth,
A loving poison,
A soup of rue;
Oh my, don't they seem so blue.
The blackened soul,
Of the Nightmare's dreams,
Torn asunder,
And filled with beliefs,
Oh my,
They feel pleasure at the sound of screams.

Darkened wisps of light,
Fill the void of midnight,
And the midwife,
With her chuckling cluck,
Toils over the cauldron roux,
Boiling it down,
To fill the puppet,
With the greatest hurts so true,
To make a life,
A life so new.

The finished product:
The darkest hole,
Stands at attention,
New and bold;
To walk with conviction,
Malice and pride;
To pluck the flower,
That told who died,
And sit upon the lasting waves,
Holding the flower,
With little hate,
To continue the cycle anew.

ISA

Shadow of a Dream

Tendrils of the mind,
Left gashes,
Deep and wide,
Till everything is tenderized meat:
Ripped,
And shod;
Torn asunder,
I.e. It's everything.

Whispers in the corner,
Hidden from the light,
An alcove of peace,
And introspection.
When all is shot:
Burnt and poisoned,
This one space,
Is freedom for all.

Left to machination,
If its own creation,
The dream goes unbidden,
Into the Twilight,
Where no light,
Longer exists.

Glances of the dream,
Leftovers,
From the Nightmares,
Fornicate with the sense of waking,
And only dissipate,
With the Moonrise,
Casting the Shadow,
Canting the Dream.

ISA
 

Poisoned Refuse ((P.R.))

Left on a lonely road,
With naught but doldrums,
A man in sifting shadows,
Drinks quietly a bottle of rum.

Finished with his liquor,
He rises,
And continues to walk,
Walk beside the only hill,
In a land of valleys.

Passing by the burning bush,
He tosses away the remains,
The remains of what once was,
Innocence lost its meaning.

Into the forest,
He continues to roam,
Apathetic to the call of life,
Nothing so bright,
Can exist anymore...

Last on his route,
He walks into town,
Stared at,
Ridiculed.
He walks into the last place,
The last place he'd ever be,
And bought a bottle of tequila....
To stare down the lonely road again.

ISA

Desperate Sacrifice

A dream of Gold:
Cloaked in Silver,
And earned through Iron,
The Minerals far and few.
From the figure's mold,
They've been told,
To listen with religion,
And live on their thew.

But this paradise,
(At least for some),
Was born from the blood of thousands,
Torn from their home,
And native sands,
At least what that's what they tell you.

***

Everyone has heard of the term,
The term known far and wide,
Whether from a little black box,
Or a box in the rocks,
Or from a little girl upon a cliff.

It saddens us,
It's a danger to us,
It's a loving care that burns us warm.
The love and kindness,
From one selfless act,
From one selfish act,
Remembered from here on.

He blew himself up,
He blew it all up,
He took his heart,
And reached for the sky.
He slaved himself down,
(Drill in Hand),
He went without,
And he ended,
A hero to all.

ISA

(For all of you who remember Kamina. Raise your drill, AND REACH FOR THE STARS!)

But seriously. This poem was actually based on a story called, 'Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann'. It had a great scene where one of the main characters sacrificed himself so the others could live on. It has inspired a great many people to write similar pieces in tribute, all with the same, (or greater), feel as the original. Good Luck, in looking this up.

 

Stormy Dream

Tendrils of wafting fog and mist,
Surround the landscape far and wide,
Set upon the statuesque pillars,
That make this scene their home.
With all the aplomb,
Of a seasick dove,
We delve into the shadows,
The shadows from love.

Obsession,
Rage,
Hope,
Hunger,
Among other things,
Utter Confusion.
The twisting lights,
Fall upon the pillars,
The pillars holding it up.

Bright,
Dark,
Grey,
No sense,
No rhyme,
No reason,
If only for the moment.
Left to crumble,
Into rubble,
This world shakes at its core,
The core of what can be.

***

The broken pillars lie in dust,
No longer holding the storm at bay,
A debt they owned,
A debt they paid.
Now it's free,
To cause havoc in the world,
The world that bore it,
The world that spurned it,
The world that's nothing,
Nothing we can see...

ISA

Confessions of Deception

Laying on the lonely road,
From far and few between,
A road with four directions,
Extend in every sight.
No Idea where which one leads,
Or even if the tides of green,
Hold the same anywhere,
Everywhere else,
The figure rests,
Deliberate in motion,
No intention,
No rendition,
Could possibly get it to move.

There is no emotion,
Just Blanks,
Just white clouds,
Moving, passing by;
Sharp wheat-thorn,
In the fields surround,
Restless,
But patient,
In the passing winds.

The wind whispers gently,
Pleased in its surroundings;
No movement,
No change;
Foreign Ideas;
It's all there,
In the gentle hills.

Hidden from the roads,
Away from the figure,
Are countless thorns,
Berries;
Vines,
Dead animals and trees,
Countless scars upon the land,
In the unearthly battlefield,
Great swaths of Hemlock,
And Mountainous row,
Upon row of Beautiful poisons,
And the banes,
Of daily life,
Signify madness,
Signify pain.

To the figure in the crossroads,
Not moving...
Just Lying there,
One would think it dead,
It not for the small rise and fall,
Of Breathe.
To the figure in the crossroads,
Not moving,
Just lying there,
Staring at the clouded ceiling,
Dealing,
With the Landscape there,
Broken Locks,
And Bloodied hair,
Aren't the only things,
He has to bare.

ISA
 

Endless Beat

I wonder If,
In sense,
In rhythm,
Insanity wavered on?
Did the beat of life roll me by?
Did the love of light,
Burn my Sight?
When did it start?
How long will it Last?
If the Time of Day,
Is anything to go by,
I'll be listening for an Eternity.

I'm surrounded by excitement.
It twists and turns around me,
Leaving no dull moments....
Do the wounds I bear,
Leave me bare?
In the sound,
I drift,
No place to go.
But does that mean,
Without the lode,
I can no longer move?

It surrounds me.
I can't think anymore...
I can't not think anymore...
The stimulation is too much...
The Music has come too far,
The Beat has left me full,
And Filling.
Eternity in the grace of 13 circulations;
Forever far too short a time to give,
In this beat,
I'll last endless,
Whited out,
Blacked out,
Till no sound can suck me in...
Again...

ISA

If anyone is confused...I'm just putting these images on, so you can get a feel for the story...I hold no...ownership...of them. If the art comes from a specific person/place, I'll be sure to leave that information in the title. Till the next poem, enjoy.

Further Note: (You can listen to One More Time/Aerodynamic by Daft Punk on Alive for the last stanza of the poem to get more of a feel to the poem)

 

Millennial Absinthe Roux (Congratulation for the Thousandth View)

A thousand years,
Is it common much?
To seek the wine,
That meets the expectations,
That holds beauty in every sip,
In every arch,
And sends us on a trip,
Of Perfection,
Spiritual Indulgence,
And leaves us feeling,
Not so set,
Not so up?

A thousand years ago,
I lost a tide,
I lost a war;
The bridge that gives,
That bridge that holds;
Still at the ending,
Wavering river,
Never to begin the stories anew.
And in my silence,
In my solitude,
My madness grew,
My rage too.
All the darkness;
All the shade,
In my infernal hate,
It all grew,
As I rued,
The days I forgo.

Drunk and Twisted,
Delighted by simplicity,
And all I knew,
I left myself behind,
To experience the art,
The symphonies,
The Beauty undefined,
Unrealized,
In all my absence,
The Absinthe Brew,
It took me too.

Millennia ago,
Or so it seems,
I took my first drink,
Of beauty,
Light,
And Sound,
And since,
I couldn't go back,
In all my rage,
From the Millennial Absinthe Rue.

ISA

 

Powdered Sky

Wonder,
Patience,
They have no mix,
Left to wander,
Sifting,
Looking for ways to be expressed.

Small moments,
Ignored and left to themselves,
Deliver joy,
And perfected emotion;
Bright,
And crisp,
They waver,
In the sense of peace.

As I left the temple,
Hidden in the jungle of sensory,
I looked to the sky,
Freed of danger,
And in the pit of my loss,
I smiled;
At the same old things.

ISA

Controlled Reality (based on the picture 'Metaworld:Back and Forth-the road one way' by DeviantArt User 'Rosevir')

A multisided dice,
Controlled my roll,
Setting,
Sifting,
Made my life droll,
Whispers setting,
Tell me the truth,
Who am I?
To me?
To you?

Chaotic Rainfall,
Across a checkerboard sky;
The wind,
The rain,
The Lightning illuminating all;
The Spirals of Life:
Of Love,
Of Change,
Of the things I'd rearrange,
Are Set in stone,
Upon the pedestal,
Of the pool of a broken heart.

Let my self hold in
My own truths;
Kings that Grow,
Kings that hold,
A Rose with thorns,
Bearing fruit,
Leading toward the same points,
The same understanding,
The star of control,
The star of war;
Politics Of them all,
Leading them to arrange the fold,
Of the very sky,
Of the stars,
Of all life,
Of all choice,
Till none desire;
Chaos Can no longer hold;
And in our ritual,
The wounds,
The world,
Stops.

ISA

And this is the painting.... I wish I didn't have to put a disclaimer here, (but I hate plagiarism more than I'm lazy...)....oh well...
 

Double-Sided (Based on the Painting 'White and Black' by DeviantArt user 'david-plus-1')

In the right,
I left it where it belonged,
Surrounded by the beauteous night,
All had wronged,
But it still sang it's song.

Daytime atrophy,
The blackened bush,
Burned by its insanity,
Still left a rush,
It's beauty left to all...

Solitude,
That lonely tree,
On all sides surrounded by what it aught to be,
Its Duality,
Ignored,
Chafed,
Ripped apart,
But the limbs still reach,
Reach so far,
Proud to be,
And looking for more.

In it's shadow,
Left and right,
The tree in darkness,
And in Light,
Hide the invisible,
Hide the viewer in it's reach,
The great tree I'm looking at,
It's still too far to breach,
Break the lines that can confine,
That one,
There,
Is you,
And this one here,
Is me.

ISA

For any who wonder, this is the Painting I was talking about.
 

Serrated Room (A Poem Influenced by DevianArt User Begemott's Scissors)

Mirrored Walls,
Hide nothing inside;
Desperate Ideas inspire,
Creation's Scene,
Destruction's Scheme;
Melancholy Madness,
In the sorrow of emptiness,
Bleed into the singular,
Imagination and Rage,
A collection of illogic,
The Madman's;
The Child's hidden dream.

The Questions the Sheers ask,
Confuse even the dreamers,
Wandering Wonderland.
The Opera,
The Big Top,
The Thread bearer's room,
Hold nothing to this insanity;
The wonderment,
The horror,
Peeking out from the sewn toys,
For just an instant,
Showing a realm of gore.

The cruelty,
Hidden behind Curiosity,
Is a dangerous thing;
Even more so since we cannot hear,
The melody torn,
From the throats,
From the ashes,
Of the unliving,
In our unloving.

At the end of our wanderlust,
We don't think,
We don't stop,
We don't listen;
We leave the room,
Left as it is,
Our creation;
Unloved;
Continues to scream...

ISA

This is Scissors by Begemott if anyone is wondering. The art itself, not the poem...
 

Hiding in a Cage

Blood ties,
All the lines,
A cosmic wheel,
Goes round and round;
A road that never ends,
Doing the same thing all over again;
The agony is building.

Eat,
Sleep,
Crap,
And Work,
Is this all that gives life meaning?
The stories I read,
The music I listen,
Imaginations,
Of machinations,
Risen,
From the deepest part of mind;
Do they mean nothing?

For if I cannot feel,
And the stark world,
Rejects my sight,
My might,
And anger Conquer thee,
And me,
Blood goes reaching down the walls.

And still I sit here,
Waiting,
Watching,
Wondering why time passes by,
Caught up in my hate.
But for all my anger,
All my rage,
I am still just this rat,
Hiding in this Cage.

ISA

Nighttime Masquerade

A different peace,
Relaxing,
Calm,
Fills the void,
Of the youthful night.
Dancing Lights,
An orchestra of sensation,
No wonder that the insensate,
Found it evil.

But for me,
Who has seen the clarity,
In the day,
Or upon the quay,
Looking out to sea,
Nighttime,
Is a peace,
A piece,
Of me I shan't forget.

The hidden blocks,
Unclear roads,
With no need to show,
The evil in the world.
For in this safe place,
Waiting for time to forget,
Waiting for mine to forget,
Masquerading in the dark,
The Beautiful Night,
Helps me forget my sorrows,
Helps we to forget the sorrow,
With this Nighttime Masquerade.

ISA
 

Celebratory Moments

.....
Bang,
...
BOOM!

Noonday meals,
So loud with sound,
Family and friends,
All gathered round,
To have fun and holler.
Dreams forgotten,
Nightmares Left,
Our only goal,
On this fine day,
In this fine cleft,
To have fun,
To be merry,
Celebrate,
With air of the ferry,
Traveling to the greatest fairs.

Fireworks,
Great and Small,
Lights pop up,
And we know all,
No fear,
No need for manner,
No need to hold up the banners,
The banners that bind us,
Hide us,
Wish we could defy us,
All disappear in white and black,
Pixilation,
No reason to fear.

But truly,
How the day went,
Happy as we were,
None were really there,
So,
In passing,
We celebrate alone.

ISA

Daytime Daydreams

...I look up,
At peaceful,
Boring Moments,
And wonder,
In small thoughts.

"Such a pleasant day,"
"Such a quiet day,"
I wonder if there is any day,
With quite the feel of this.

The Mind made revolutions,
Evolution,
In the feel of its world.
It teems with sound,
The world,
And yet,
In this moment,
It feels so dark.

I lay back against,
An Oaken tree,
Quiet,
Staring up,
At all it seems,
No birds,
No bees,
No grass,
No sounds,
Just me and my daytime,
Daydreams sound,
So very peaceful,
With naught a worry in the world.

ISA

Cant Stop

Moving,
Constant,
Never rest,
Never rant.

Cant,
Recant,
Whispers,
Pervading.

Lines,
Words,
Development,
From the Lion's Den.

Love,
Lost,
Forever alone,
Carry on.

Voices,
When,
Losing,
Overthrow.

Lights,
Dreams,
Family,
Safe.

Rage,
Constant,
Call me,
Home.

Help,
Stop me
Can't stop.
Moving on.


This isn't my typical style, but I thought I'd mix it up a little bit considering that tomorrow I'm going to be celebrating all night long, for a special event. I might even make a poem centric on the event later, but right now I'm just enjoying myself. Feel free to listen to 'Lights' by Ellie Goulding, for the background to when I was creating this.

ISA
 

Lost Emperor

A child,
Bathed in silks,
Helpless,
But not forgotten,
Sits restless,
At the window,
Watching a world go by.

It takes time,
Having none to give,
And he sits,
In a world of gray,
Watching the light go by.

Sitting,
Whilst relaxing,
In the window-sill,
The birds and bills,
Pass wavering,
Nothing of importance.

He gets up,
Finally he gets up,
Regal,
Patient He,
Done with dealing,
Buying or Selling,
Debates,
Gone away,
And Lost as he is,
The Emperor,
Wanders again.

ISA

Glass Windows

Clearly I can see,
(Beyond the whispers,
Calling to my hidden sins),
A sunset rose,
And gilded walls,
Protecting a lonely,
Beautiful,
Gilded doll.

Outside,
Outside my room,
I see land,
Sky and sea,
Beauty effervescent,
Being...

I am trapped,
Trapped,
Trapped in a room of no walls,
The Glass Windows,
Some leading to my walls,
Abandoned long ago,
To protect the saddened doll inside,
And the others on the outside.

I meant to return,
To be with him,
Or her,
(I never figured out),
When my wanderings were at an end.
But Trapped I was,
In the past I was,
Glass windows,
To my exploits lead,
And futures abandoned,
Forced to watch the world go on,
With,
Or without me.

Nothing saddened,
Nothing Lied,
Nothing Dreamed,
I was trapped inside,
Nothing Whispered,
Nothing Waned,
Trapped inside the Window panes.

The Cracks that riddled,
Through the air,
Wandering Vacant,
Lots it seems,
Nothing left to do.
All my friends,
All my life,
Died While I was behind the lie,
Of a singular,
Singular,
Window Pane.

Now I'm angry,
Now I'm mad,
Now I'm worse than that old hag.
I'm mean, I'm cruel,
And Despair will reach that last great witch,
For in my anger,
The Glass Window won't last forever.
All I need,
Is a single twitch.

ISA 

 

My Walls (Heavily influenced by the poem, 'I Build Walls' by an anonymous writer)

My walls,
Cheap,
Rusty,
Chafing,
Invisible.
They sit upon closed battlements,
Bringing a tune of days gone by,
Protecting a lonesome doll.

They do nothing as I move about,
From place to place,
To place to place.
Just sit,
Wavering,
Whispering,
And keep it all out.

And When comes the Passersby,
Lullabies,
And Deep strong Whispers,
Guide him to a lonely rope,
Dangling above the walls,
To fall,
To die.

My walls sit there.
Day after day,
Year after year,
Bringing all the people who come by,
To their doom..
Just to protect,
Just to serve,
Just to hide,
The doll inside,
Gilded iron walls,
That the doll himself wears.

And the walls,
Invisible to all,
With their bangles,
Banners,
Whimsical Spikes,
Simply sit there,
Waiting for their next victim,
Guarding,
A Lilied,
Nightshade,
Poison,
Killer Doll.

ISA
 

Debates

In my life,
I’m filled with hate and strife,
The skies raining maliciousness,
The world seemed to have a fine line of dank deadness.
 
Watching fights,
And arguments,
Neither might,
Nor brilliance,
Seemed to make his point.
 
As I watched this congress,
Endlessly in progress,
I knew that neither,
Said with vigor,
That which needed to be currently regressed.
 
On this endless blank chat,
I laughed as I absently beat away a harmless gnat.
 
I knew then,
They were wordless demons.
As they spat,
To each other at,
 
With a surprisingly ignorant tenacity,
I silently watched as they in their incompitentity,
Bullied away at useless banter.
 
*** A Counter-Argument ***

When time lies,
And the winds of change,
Rely upon their catalysts,
Is the time of which,
Aggressions rise,
And attacks grow more significant.
 
To be in motion,
A real commotion,
Is not quite tolerated.
All these laws,
These circumstance are made quite for a reason,
To protect us all, from ourselves,
On the roads of indecision.

ISA