[Suzerain of Sheol]

You might have a point there, the rhythm sounds a lot smoother that way...

[Quiet Man Cometh]

I was considering topic too, actually. But again, not sure where that last last would fit if it were to move somewhere else. Changes the mood of the poem I think, if the stanzas are shifted.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

This may be the worst poem I've written in quite some time. X__X

Miasmagoria

I find once more these hostage hours
as the breath of days held in
bringing to birth a fugue
of dislocated thoughts
myself abstained
shot through with penumbrae
in a rage of shameful particles
precipitate to dawn
exposed in oblivion like all the other souls
in this mortal convent
this alive antiquity of forlorn minds
companion to infinity
distressed by absolutes
and the indifference of the rain
patterned to weep at the intrinsic
yet shielded from my self-destruction
by a vehemence of impossible compassion
as I mourn the unknowable
in this scattered meditation
as I shiver untouchable
in distant deprivation
as I remain unbreakable
for now....

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Might be my addled head at the moment but I'm not totally following things here. My opinion: keep the first line, the last two lines, and re-write what's in between. ;)

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Was bored and felt like trying something a little different, epic type piece based on one of my books. Meter could be better. Oh well. Not planning to continue it, was kind of fun to try though.

From Blighted Nurtures Carried Forth

Of that era, short in sight of time,
so woven with gray grandeur in
the fog of parting years I now
give voice, and dip this mused quill
unto the depth of 'spired thought
to scribe of majesties forgone,
upon beaten knees in sight of
greater souls, and thus begin,
in visionary breath found nightly
wing'd, departing swift, to speak
such fleeting words as riven minds
can so contrive, in weal of weariness,
my spirit held in hostel grave
to etch this testament unto the iron skein.

In those dim days, upon the wand'ring world,
whence man had not the wit to dream,
and the ravens did repose, there came
the nascent call of war, bleak stranger
to those starving lands, those meager lords,
who in such surfeit of survival knew
in languor of peace between and of themselves
not will nor wraith of that grim flame that
so rives the mighty temples of inconstant times
and maketh thus these lands anew.

So heralded by rising winter storms
and icy gloaming eve, came he,
unbridled from the 'placent bit,
bedress'd and arm'd for woeful clime,
with scepter'd sword and forged gown,
those shoulders meet to bear the mantle
of monarchy unyielding, imperious command,
and the reformation of all mien of life,
that specter borne on tempest's frigid gale,
his whisper bringing realms to heel,
that titan cast in gray-dusk shroud
against a far horizon's doom,
sighing empires to life, and thus called:
the Archon.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Okay, so, this poem is from a couple years ago. I honestly consider it my best. It's rather long, and... actually nowhere near as personal as it sounds. I was totally sound of mind when I wrote this. Even still -- and I don't usually agree with this -- I will warn, there is some grim, grim stuff in here. Read at one's discretion.

The formatting was very difficult to carry over, I may have gotten it wrong in places. If anyone notices anything, please do point out.

That said, I give you:

Deconstructing Nirvana:
Revelations of the Suicidal Sages

I am not the one you should be listening to

I don't... have anything to say

that you haven't heard before

from yourself

and it's yourself

that you should worry about

not me
not anything
not everything

only nothing
and
you
and your lonely

exaltation

you have a lifetime to do nothing

and it's nothing that

wakes you up in the morning

that

kisses you under the moon

and nothing
is coming for you

because you...

you've never lost anything
because you never had anything
because you never were anything

because you just never were

and you'll never be
and you couldn't be
and you shouldn't be

because GOD choked to death
on the poison YOU were breathing
on the blood YOU were speaking
on the tears YOU were bleeding

and that first sickening scream
is all we'll ever hear

and you don't think it's fair

and you think the world should care

and you aren't sure if you can bear

to face it

but I'm here to tell you stranger
yes beloved outcast

that you were
never worth it
never wanted
never welcome
in our home
in our heart
in your own arms

and I'm here to tell you

leper

cripple

reject

bastard

that we wanted your abortion
that we hated the idea of you
that we would strip you bare

flay you dead

melt you down

bleed you out

bottle you up

throw you away

forget about you

forgive ourselves about you

fornicate around you

And we

they

someone

no one

ever loved you
ever thought about you

except to despise you
except to dream of you
except to dream of torturing you
except to torture ourselves dreaming of you

and we learned to like the pain
we learned
to wash it down with mercury (memory)
we learned
to fight if off with sorcery (sympathy)
we learned

to love ourselves
by hating you
to love ourselves
for hating you
to love each other
for hating you
to love each other
for hating ourselves
and to hate you
for loving everyone
for hating you

And I

never asked for anything
never gave you anything
never looked at you
heard you
helped you
hurt you

but you

slave

sinner

masochist

whore

you just couldn't help making me the angel

of your miserable salvation

the valkyrie who would carry you away
the martyr you could mortify to mark your precious presence

so you could drink from the stigmata
and lean against my broken back

so the world could have someone else to loathe
so the crows could celebrate a different corpse
so you could hold my rotting hand

and say you'd made a friend
and say you had something to live for
and tell them all that you're alive
and tell them all you have something to die for

but you're ignoring it again

you're repeating your mistakes

because you can't learn anything
can't love anything

can't help it

can't stop it

and still
still

you want to be there for me

like the SAPROPHYTIC
PARASITIC
APOCALYPTIC

freak

addict

zealot

victim

that

you are

so I'll say it again

I'll waste my last words on you

you should worry about yourself

[Quiet Man Cometh]

I'll come up with a proper opinion to this when I stop being amused by it. ;). I'm really not sure what that says about me...

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I get to "we wanted your abortion" before I crack and start giggling, myself.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Veinglorious

I was watching the drama of waves
observing the architecture of unknowable uncertainties
regaled by the imposition of brazen creation
in capsules we mesmerized
the plastic we memorized
and set the ego aflame
in unnameable days

But I never wished for a preliminary existence
only wanted a disastrous exigence
yearned and dreamed for intricate abolishment
to cling to intoxicate
the reason we'd demonstrate
only for the years to disappear
and to learn how to wait

So I saw the echo of the sins we raised
and smiled back in vengeful reticence
digging up the seeds of this delirium
as I befriended the unworthy
for the ideal of my envy
to chisel this mechanic meaning
across the message of a name

[Quiet Man Cometh]

...not the easiest poem in the world to read. Took a few tries to be able to read it smoothly. I think I'll need to get a dictionary out before I can really follow what it is you're getting at. ;)

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Which of those requires a dictionary??

[Quiet Man Cometh]

The title to start with :P. Then exigence and reticence. Have I not mentioned that I am a rather poorly read English grad? The words are familiar but again, I am not positive as to what they mean.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

The title is a play on "vainglorious", which... means pretty much exactly what it sounds like.

Exigence = reason for being.

Reticence - Reluctance, unwillingness to participate.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Two out of three. :)

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Anesthesis

This thought is a devastating demand.
And here I linger beyond repose
stranded in manic self-reflection
simulating despair in this charlatan mind
those breaths inevitable
like the tortured steps that carry me
from daylight nightmares
to the nothingness of dreams.

I wake to reminisce on insight
making moments for forgetting brilliance
mourning the memory of a self I knew
solemn and hollow,
this fetal insignificance tied to a futile cross
wasting my weeping on meaningless hurts.

As an eidolon, deified and objectified.
Inimically conscious.
Abandoned.
Ravaged.
Beloved, and alone.

I cannot read my own testament.
And I wish I knew why I cannot care.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Omnifarious

You have entered the plague of my presence.
Grovel at my weakness.
Weep at my mortality.
Kiss my leprous hand,
and make your pledge.
Say that you're my friend.
You are welcome here, truly,
this the court of my dissolution,
halls of the downcast, the overthrown,
housing only the seat of my abjection,
my rotting throne.
At least I'm not alone.