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)