Weird Poetry


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12/9/2008 16:28:46

Fleur Du Mal
Member

I think I have said many times that when I'm not writing haikus or tankas, my poetry tends to be ranty or too weird. Well, I'm leaving the ranty stuff out, but I decided to ask you exactly how weird the other poems are. Here is the collection. Beware!

Comments are greatly appreciated, please type them here: Comments-thread

Index of Weird Poems:

The End of All Things: A poem that got its name from LotR soundtrack. Otherwise, it has nothing to do with the movie/book.
1s and 0s: A petty little love poem that I wrote while listening to Placebo's song Special Needs. Weirdly, not that weird. =P
Wasted Shadows: A very dark poem with some insinuations on violence written in a form of a slightly broken villanelle.
The Demon in the Ceiling: A somewhat disturbing poem takes the readers on an imaginary trip to the mind of a wretched soul. Initial inspiration is a visit to the chambers below the old Nürnberg City Hall in Germany.
Driven to Write: A sad poem about being lost. Occasional rhymes, but no set pattern. (No surprise there =P)
Story Complete: A simple poem, perhaps pondering on how fragile a human and her dreams are. Is it laconic?
Love in the Desert: A sad (surprise!!) love poem. This is for my darling Lux. =P
Run of the Mill: Sometimes the sheer unwillingness of humanity to listen each other makes me mad and depressed. That' why I wrote this little poem.
The First Wife of Bluebeard: Ahem. This is called 'Weird Poetry' after all... =P Anyways, this is a little murder ballad with written with a relatively light style. I guess I wanted to try telling a tale with a poem. I do realise the original fairytale of Bluebeard went rather differently, but if I had followed the original storyline then the poem wouldn't be original, now would it? =P
Abyss: Somewhat enigmatic poem. Hmm. OK, I'll describe it this way: takes place in a fictional world where the unwillingness to accept anything other than 'the right way' or 'the proper way' causes individuals to shut themselves outside the society because they are "defined evil" anyway.
Alone One Morning: A poem about a morning swim in a cold sea. There's darkness below the surface, though, as always. =P
Chronic Thoughts: An experimental piece about being diagnosed and living with a chronic disease, written as devoid of emotion as possible, exploiting the passive form. The idea of this is to achieve a "clinical" tone. Probably all over the place. =P
The Absolute End: Just another depressing piece, lol. The title comes as a direct translation from an old German crime/police series called Derrick, that had an episode called Das Absolute Ende shown relatively recently on TV. Otherwise, the poem has nothing to do with the series or the episode in question, it's the mere title that worked as an inspiration. I like how it sounds in German.
What Have You Done? A dark murder poem. Mainly allusions, but be ye warned.
Pretence: Purrhaps a tad confusing take on certain self-protection mechanisms. In connection with Untied.
Untied: Some reflection-watching, that's all. In connection with Pretence.
Gravity: I don't think I have to explain this one. Or do I? =P
Daydreaming: Exercise in rhyming, imagery, and optimism. (jeez)
Year of the Tiger: Akiba in AQW was decorated so beautifully during the Chinese New Year festivities that it inspired this poem. Of course, it is very like me to write the poem to have (almost) nothing to do with the event itself... Well, in short, the line of the night welling like ink came to my mind at the time, I wrote it down and later this poem popped up in my mind.
Instances 1: Three tanka-like poems related to love and longing.
Instances 2: Two tanka-like poems related to shame.
Prelude to Forever: Love poetry.
Wonder: Trying out the identical beginning for each line. The poem itself.. well, I have interpretation, tell me yours. =P
Broken Blue: -
Surreal: Night journey, imagery, and mood.

Second Page:
The Memory Drain: This is even more on the weird side than the average poem here. =P
Special: -
Liquid: Love poetry that plays with some mythical imagery
The Unformed: A coming-of-age story with some twisted mythology.
Oncology: A take on the title.

Less weird poetical experiments by yours truly:

A set of tankas can be found here: Purrfect Blossoms

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 9/10/2011 17:16:29 >

Post #: 1

12/9/2008 16:33:16

Fleur Du Mal
Member

The End of All Things

So did the sky turn her face,
Threw you out from her grace.
Black pearls shattered in the night,
Quickly, you vanished from my sight.

Petty souls that seek absolution;
I forgive them not.
Wretched woman who seeks resolution;
You give her naught.

Immortals howl in the night;
Tempest launches all her might.
Petty souls that seek destruction;
Have no path to resurrection.

They drown in files, their lungs are burnt;
Suffocation, piercing pain, all deserved.
Churning ocean, filled with blood;
Little children, I forgive them not.

Black pearls shattered tonight,
Darling, you gave up the fight.
Earth split, them to swallow;
Together with the infected marrow.

Seeds of evil I spit from my mouth;
Distrust grows from west to south.
She thinks of you now; You forgive her not.
Darling, you're the only one able to stop.

Hollow sky, hallowed sea,
Nothing left, ready to leave.
Black pearls roll down her cheeks,
Yet you forgive her not.

< Message edited by fabula -- 12/9/2008 16:50:38 >

Post #: 2

1/26/2009 14:24:38

Fleur Du Mal
Member

1s and 0s

Send me 1s, send me 0s
Keep my heart beating in the machine
I'm losing you, I'm losing me
Can't find myself in the notes of love

Please.

Send me 1s, send me 0s
Before there'll be no more pros
I never was, you never were
Can't find pen nor paper

I apologise.

Send me 1s, send me 0s
Rip my skin for parchment
I'm hurting you, I'm hurting me
Can't find anyone to forgive me

Hush.

I send you 0s, I send you 1s
Once more, I play the song
I love you, you...
...hit enter, then leave.

Post #: 3

2/20/2009 10:39:18

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Wasted Shadows

If your heavy footsteps I will never hear
This house has crumbled, this home is hollow
No more burning streaks on my skin, no more fear

Long past the summer we wished each other near
Soft was the grass, the flowers bloomed yellow
Now your heavy footsteps I failed to hear

Evil times came, self-made, they poisoned each year
What point was there, what purpose in waiting for tomorrow?
Each tomorrow gave more streaks on my skin, each tomorrow came with more fear

That world has passed, yet those streaks stayed, my skin they still sear
Our memories lie cluttered, indistinguishable, moping in a row
Now your heavy footsteps I will fail to hear

Silently it started, it ends with a single tear
As you loom over me, your hands clutch a pillow
No more burning streaks on my skin, no more fear

Outside the moon is high, the sky is ever so clear
She wasted her shadows on us before this dawn, this dawn of sorrow
If your heavy footsteps I will never hear
No more burning streaks on my skin, no more fear.

< Message edited by fabula -- 3/13/2009 14:10:34 >

Post #: 4

3/13/2009 15:41:44

Fleur Du Mal
Member

The Demon in the Ceiling

The scratching of pen on paper woke me up to see
how a demon in the ceiling was drawing me.

He woke me from my nightmares,
where the judge sits swollen in his chamber
and his mules, his mules they question me,
earning their daily straws with torturing labour.

I see a hole in the stone ceiling
and the hole has a special meaning
for the envious judge listens to note what words I use
to scream for any saviour.

Now I am awake and ready to shatter
for the demon proves to be real and profound,
pieces of my mind fall off; onto the floor they splatter.
I'm fighting to get up but down I have been bound.
I fight my constraints, yet the demon makes no sound.
In my mind, the nightmare starts to whirl around.

The judge has left the room above and opens the door.
He joins us and now there's four.
He takes no notes now, t-t-there are other uses for his h-h-hands.
The red waste on the floor runs in strands.
The language of blood is all he understands.

A broken body is all I own.
One name I should have known.
The mules did their duty well:
in the darkness my wounds still swell.
But my secrets, my secrets I did not tell.

Awake, I see how the demon floats down to stand by my bed.
I blink and I beg, but the platinum angel just shakes his head.
He bends down, draws the blankets off, now a whisper in my ear,
“Shall we start again tomorrow, my dear?”

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 4/28/2010 18:21:02 >

Post #: 5

4/5/2009 16:16:57

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Driven to Write

Come,
drive me home tonight,
and I'll show you how I live:
between piles of paper,
inside a crammed chamber,
but with a view to kill for,
on the edge of my ravine.

You look like a promise of paradise,
standing there and staring at me
with questions flickering in your eyes,
as I ask you to define me.
For the words I write
turn mute on paper,
and I can't bear their silence tonight.

You'll understand me,
once you've heard the sea birds scream.
You'll understand me,
once you've savoured the salt on my skin.
You'll understand me perfectly,
once you've been burned in a dream.

I have seen many,
who lived like you,
who worked like you,
who loved like you,
who followed me like you.
Yet I haven't seen any
with a soul so beautiful.

And if you see mine tonight,
will you please tell me,
if you like it at all?
Will you please describe it,
its shape, weight, and degree of honesty,
or if it's alive at all.

So that I'd be defined.
So that I'd know myself.
For I've known everyone else.

And I may seduce you
with my tales
of salt on skin,
with my clothes,
and what's within.

But I can't thrill you
with who I am.
For I am lost
inside these piles of paper.
For I am lost
by my drive to write.

< Message edited by fabula -- 4/22/2009 17:42:27 >

Post #: 6

4/24/2009 16:34:56

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Story Complete

She walks away, far beyond these blocks of concrete
Howling in her ears, the disbelieving pack of curs
One flash of light, a screech and a scream; story complete

Thunderstorm objects her departure in the street
All she hears is the rain, washing her soft curls
She walks away, far beyond these blocks of concrete

Tonight she stands on her own two feet
Ready to run after what her heart yearns
One flash of light, a screech and a scream; story complete

Lonely alleys, rough alleys, the taste of electric heat
Grey walls dance around her in edged whirls
She walks away, far beyond these blocks of concrete

Her paper wings melt in the rain, yet her smile stays sweet
Happy and carefree, she counts the droplets like pearls
One flash of light, a screech and a scream; story complete

Wheels of misery speed around the corner, they turn her obsolete
The machine crushes her against the crust, her to her end it hurls
Her flight ends this way, inside these blocks of concrete
One flash of light, a screech and a scream; story complete

Post #: 7

4/25/2009 18:28:03

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Love in the Desert

Every grain of sand
reminds her of the forbidden land
Like the essence of wind beneath her wings
Like each word in the song her heart sings
........ About the love in the desert

For one moment to be whole,
without a doubt, she gave what no one can own
The night watched as she surrendered her soul
She gave away herself, now she's alone
........ Without that love in the desert

Fire each breath, each breath a shivering touch
Even death wouldn't have terrified that much
The stars departed, morn met her with bitter lessons to teach
Depressions in sand, distanced, out of her reach
........ Gone was the love in the desert

She turned away, crying for her choices
She smashed her head to deafen the voices
Never to have, never to hold; all he ever told
........ Like that love in the desert

Post #: 8

5/3/2009 9:31:59

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Run of the Mill

Everything but love
Every bird but the snow-white dove
Every weapon used
Every rule abused
Each missile aimed for cash
Both sides destined
for ruins and ash

Anything but humanity
Anything but integrity
Bomb the old man in his wheelchair
Say he was a terrorist and now it's fair
Forget half of history
Over and over, relive the atrocity
Never play this card for pity

Before our eyes only the piles of burnt crops
Nothing but the stubborn silence to hear
Nothing but the stale iron wounds to sear
Nothing but the stench of rotting corpses
Indifference, ignorance, forever lingers the deadly chill
Any and everything, nothing but the run of the mill

Post #: 9

5/3/2009 10:22:24

Fleur Du Mal
Member

The First Wife of Bluebeard

I waited for you by the forest path,
the silver moon rose high and pale
over my body, shivering in the cold, cold gale.

I waited for you by the clear lake,
while the sun burnt down the greenest of weeds
and the draught smothered the last of your seeds.

I waited for you, you never came.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.

I waited for you by the doorstep,
your friends had parted, and you walked alone,
the night turned old, and you returned home.

I waited for you only to ask,
Why did it seem you wanted me no more?
You gave me no reason except I was a bore.

I had waited for you, now I wanted to leave.
Drunken and enraged, you pushed me out of your way.
I lost my balance, never saw the next day.

I waited for you, you had another dame.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.

I'll be waiting for you by the aisle,
when the father gives away your second bride,
when you grab the gun and she cannot hide.

I'll be waiting for you by her grave,
after the authorities have you ruled,
after the act is finished and you have them fooled.

I'll be waiting for you by the down town bank,
while you cash in the insurance for our lives.
Oh, I see what happens to your wives.

I waited for truth, indeed it came.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your bad name.

I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot,
when you step in the car and turn the key,
when you look in the mirror to see the corpse that was me.

I'll wait for you to attempt an escape,
I'll watch as you run out into the thickening fog,
I'll watch as you trip over a rotting log.

I'll wait for your answer
when I ask you to follow me home,
when you wish this to be dream and scream, “No!”

I waited for you to take your aim.
I was a fool to think I could master the game.
I was a fool to ignore your horrid name.

I'll wait no more as you crawl in mud.
With fingers of bone, I pull you up,
don't care about the sound tendons make when they pop.

I'll wait no more when I hiss,
“Darling, I've never seen you like this.
Say, is there something amiss?”

I'll wait no more for your silent plea,
for it's time for you to swallow your wine,
“Which grave you choose, hers or mine?”

To do you apart, the death then came.
You were a fool to think you could master the game.
Victims and murderers, to death we are all the same.

Maybe the reader is waiting for me to tell,
what my darling answered, with whom he shall dwell.
It matters not, we are on the same side of hell.

< Message edited by fabula -- 9/25/2009 15:45:50 >

DF	Post #: 10

5/7/2009 16:50:05

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Abyss

Into the Abyss I am bound
chains of poison tightening around
swift and deadly, woven with words

Coursing through my veins
boiling in my loins
the sins you named me

And if I could turn my face up
if I could behold the light that shines above
if I could ignore how it burns
Still, I could not get out

Your world of light and joy knows no fair
for your joys are constricted and predefined
wild desires suited only for repent and repair

That which is ugly: turned away from
That which is raw: frowned upon
That which is free: Organised.

A light can dwell in darkness
there can be beauty in ugliness
This I believe. This you deny.

Your world has no shades

Your world is as monotonous as the Abyss

There is not a single wish to be found
not a single cell in me, hoping to get out

Tell me, friend, why do you still pray that I would?

< Message edited by fabula -- 5/7/2009 16:51:48 >

DF	Post #: 11

6/7/2009 15:08:03

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Alone One Morning

For no longer but a moment, a breeze
touches my cheek in the morning freeze
The water has halted her course, stands completely still
images of floating clouds on the surface
Ducks hide their beaks under their feathers
turning away from their sleeping sisters and brothers;
a touch of night still lingering in this morning's peace

Nightingale sings far in the forest
each note of requiem pure and honest
He adds one more beat to complete the trill
as an image steps into the liquid glass, breaking the surface
The sun is rising, I've lost my time
my legs kick faster, the sea is all mine
and all the while I keep The Danger suppressed inside

Minute follows minute, fresh morning turns old
sun rises high, takes back the hues of gold
Sea spreads around me, carrying my image by her will
I watch the light glimmering above, high on the surface
it's dark in here, among the staring fish and the reaching seaweed
and I wonder, how much longer will it take to drown your seed
for the blood still burns in my loins, but my fingers are already cold

< Message edited by fabula -- 6/9/2009 2:12:50 >

DF	Post #: 12

6/7/2009 16:13:34

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Chronic Thoughts

The day one is diagnosed, one is redefined.
All power will be taken, and henceforth,
it is the disease that says it all:
what one can and can not do,
what one is now and what one is no more.

After that day one learns to hide and lie,
living according to the pace of the Healthy People alone,
every second reminding of the medicine in the backpack,
or in the drawer, at home, in stack:
the injection due to two hours ago.

When one finally confesses, comes clean,
flat out tells them the new deal
- the need for constant medication to stay alive -
one becomes an object of curiosity, one is labelled 'Sick.'

They start to watch the clock, time the meals,
count every single piece of food on the plate,
they want to see the needles,
they cannot wait,
with their words they mean no harm:
“God doesn't give one more than one can bear,”
while they continue to stare.

Gee, isn't one grateful for that gift!
Appreciation the exact word one is bursting with.
One dares to say this, one is ungrateful.
One shuts up, apologizes,
returns to the hiding and lies.

Yet the disease remains.
One wakes up in the morning,
goes to the store with it,
goes jogging, speeds up, still can't lose it.
One even sleeps with it.

One can not pull it out,
distinctively separate it from everything else one is.
It's a trait, not all one is.
One tries to believe this.
And one does.
All the way up to the next injection.

< Message edited by fabula -- 6/9/2009 2:11:49 >

DF	Post #: 13

7/12/2009 12:15:51

Fleur Du Mal
Member

The Absolute End

Always, my mother tried to teach,
whenever I was within her reach:
“You need to be strong and stand on your own,
because in the end, child, we all are alone.”
I listened, holding my new teddy bear,
I was too young to really care.

And later, too deep in love,
wrapped in the sweet delusion of trust
that love will conquer all,
that love will be fair and just,
that love will never hit the wall,
that love will never torment and burn.
I had my lessons to learn.

In the shadows of another twilight,
I pleaded, couldn't recognise my own voice:
“Please don't leave me here alone.”
I clang to the phone.
Somewhere amidst the distant noise
rung an answer, “I got to go,”
then nothing more than a repeating tone.

Tossed aside, I talked to my fears,
out of time, I drowned in my tears.
All on my own.

Happiness vanished,
embraces perished,
memories mocked me...
Until in the ruins of my heart I knew,
I cannot be made anew.

Untouched sheets, bathed in blue,
broken in pieces, this much is true:
“There will be no one to hold you, child
no, not through the last night.”

Seconds take their time, the hours pass slow,
first rays of sunlight, hidden in shadow.
The seagulls keep on shrieking outside,
I open the window, I must be alive.
The cold air whistles through my room,
and the longest of nights will end soon.

There's my faithful teddy bear, I give it one last hug.
A glass falls, liquid death spills on the rug.
A soul wouldn't care, a soul wouldn't even pretend
now that peace is delivered at the absolute end.

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 4/28/2010 18:21:20 >

DF	Post #: 14

9/18/2009 15:00:06

Fleur Du Mal
Member

What Have You Done?

Barely composed you sit
on the opposite side
The lamp hangs low
our hands bathed in gold

The words you begin with
dare to turn the tide
Frail gestures and trembling lips
and the despair you can't keep inside

What have you done?
What have you done?

Stumble, fall, and pass
the game evades our grip
the search for exclusive love
is that all we're thinking of?

You pour another glass
look away when I sip
my eyes track your shape
inside the night is wide awake

What have you done?
What have you done?

The guilty prey and the predator
that unnoticed stands up
your motions a blur alone
leaves me scared to the bone

The truth is an amateur
The truth is in your step
in your eyes it shone
in your touch, on my neck

What have you done?
What have you done?

The table freezing cold
solid against my temple
I hear you mumble and speak
the deviated truths you keep

Limbs heavy in your hold
failed in love's gamble
burning light, utterly weak
kisses of goodbye on my cheek

What have you done?
What have you done?

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 4/28/2010 18:21:35 >

DF	Post #: 15

10/7/2009 12:29:53

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Pretence

One touch of ice
makes deception linger
One touch of ice
breaks the truth in anger

In this constant fall of snow I'm scared
What I ever presumed to say
I never really dared
Never came out true anyway

The radio blasts out the heat, already gone
Who cares about the beat, lyrics all wrong
even after inebriation
all just morbid thoughts and alienation

One touch of ice
supports my flaking pretence
One touch of ice
and I hide behind nonsense

Untied

She holds it all in
behind the unspoken eyes
with force in the corners of her mouth.

She bottles it all up
inside her ripped heart
behind the shreds left of her mind.

I stare at her in the blue neon light
that reflection on a slab of silver
watch the bared shoulders as they start to quiver.
She gazes back with those unknown eyes.

And I become untied.
Like the laces of my shoes
that lay tumbled in the foyer.

And she becomes untied.
Like the ribbons in her hair
falling into the sink.

And I become untied.
Like the knots of my blouse
as I toss the shreds away.

And she becomes untied.
Like the water in the spring
bursting under the ice.

Bursting from my eyes
unhindered, unlied.

< Message edited by fabula -- 10/12/2009 23:07:04 >

DF	Post #: 16

10/13/2009 13:07:36

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Gravity

Outside of the ordinary,
miles spread between home
and the old oak standing
in the inner courtyard
of this hidden inn.

Evening holds out her hands.
She wreaths the plain in fog,
the proud trees and the sleeping mares,
and the zealous clock times the meal to be served
before you, before me.

Years of expectations
never had their fill
like our glasses now:
wine intoxicating and strong,
I drink the presence of you.

What hope is there
for the night air to clear our heads,
when the fog hugs us closer,
when we have been deserted,
left alone to walk this silent walk.

Feet make decisions without guidance,
echos mere thuds of heart,
and the plain vast around us;
just two dots wheeling tighter
under the law of gravity.

< Message edited by fabula -- 10/13/2009 15:02:09 >

DF	Post #: 17

12/10/2009 8:38:21

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Daydreaming

So many nights I've stayed awake without sleep
In the middle of the day my eyes close to dream deep

Reality checks, reality shifts, siren song fills the room
Withered soul awakes, heart recognises its new bloom

Tickled by all the notes floating around and abound
The carpet morphs softer; I'm lying on a cloud

Looking for rivers, following the streams
I drift into gold, I meet you in dreams

Swirling pillars of vibrant butterflies
They flap and shimmer in the light that never dies

Evening's breath tastes like milk and haze
Safe in your heart, warmth shared in this embrace

I'll find my way to you, I'll grow wings
I'll shed the heaviest tears, I'll purge the sorrow out of our skins

Wish and will strong, fists unknowingly clenched
Plastic CD cover broken in two, both sides drenched

I raise my hand: this blood will be the seal
That feeds these dreams until I've willed them real.

< Message edited by fabula -- 12/10/2009 15:31:42 >

DF	Post #: 18

2/24/2010 12:39:46

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Year of the Tiger

on the path to Akiba
I fell from my pale horse
the grass grew in high tuffs
and swallowed her fleeing tracks

on the path to Akiba
the stars fell from the sky
the trees burnt to grey ashes
and rained on my broken heart

into oblivion I had fallen
out of the haven of my home
I lay surrounded by the ocean
that drenched this island of old

on the path to Akiba
the clouds hid wounds of the night
the wind lashed at my skin
and licked my bloodied soul

on the path to Akiba
in the mists I heard a growl
shiftly closer it grew
until the beast stood before my eyes

my sword in useless shards
my will to fight forlorn
mesmerized by expected death
my feet covered in ashes and blood

on the path to Akiba
I met the Tiger on his prowl
strong and more beautiful
than the infinity spread above

on the path to Akiba
I fell in love with the Tiger
as the night welled wild like ink
running in rivulets of sin on his skin

so blue were his eyes
and they mixed in the seas of mine
my feet he lifted off the ground
I blinked and my heart was bound

on the path to Akiba
I had set sail for a goal
the goal now long forgotten
the ship a mere skeleton on the shores

on the path to Akiba
the rain fell and covered his tracks
I vanished with my Tiger
and I couldn't have been more found

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 4/28/2010 18:21:59 >

DF	Post #: 19

3/6/2010 12:40:26

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Instances 1

Of Love and Longing:

***

The nights grow longer
until they span miles and miles:
the girth of the globe.
Embraced by the same darkness,
shared whispers fly like shadows.

***

And the wind takes hold
on the light lotus perfume.
Sweet brushes against
moments untasted and skin
bathed with holy incense.

***

Take my golden heart
and wash it with Spring flowers
hide it in your room
feed it with creamy moonlight
and never let it wither.

***

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 3/6/2010 12:43:06 >

DF	Post #: 20

3/6/2010 12:42:18

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Instances 2

Of Shame:

***

Then the dogs ran off
and the humans turned away.
She tried to hold on
falling, slipping, left alone
ashamed and crying out loud.

***

What clouded those days
cast a bloodied stain that
stubbornly sticks on
refuses to be rinsed off
corrodes heart, whispers death.

***

DF	Post #: 21

4/28/2010 18:23:41

Fleur Du Mal
Member

A Prelude to Forever

In the afterrush of September storms,
you emerged from the River of Dreams,
filled my heart with your Being
and washed away its unlife.

Handing you my feeble offerings
- those creations of apparent insignificance -
I wondered if you'd care to share them
and prepared to fortify my fortress of broken heart.

But you declared them precious and beautiful,
as you sat down by the stubborn little me.
Before I knew, you had pulled me into warmth
and took a hungry bite.

I watched the little black tongues of past
- that claimed everything and did nothing -
cease their licking, wither and die, releasing my heart
as you granted me life past the death of self.

And here I am now, trapped in these
temporary days that Time can not ticktate,
trying to find meaningful words to mirror
the truth treasured and beyond precious:

Holding you is to hold on to life itself.

DF	Post #: 22

6/7/2010 21:29:03

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Wonder

Have I not wondered what is beyond the expanding space?
Have I not admired the silent stars and their evolutionary grace?
Have I not been given the beauty of Winter in the fall of snow?
Have I not searched past darkness, behind light, under what I know?

Have I not paid my debts to hungry usurpers in flesh and blood?
Have I not asked myself what wrong was worth it and what right was not?
Have I not cried over what, when, and with extra repent spent on why?
Have I not pleaded my case to the wise whose job is to deny?

Have I not been gifted with knowledge that frailty doesn't negate life?
Have I not taught myself that relief can not be forced with a knife?
Have I not claimed sanctuary and shed off my repeated sins?
Have I not refused to live as the cushion for their pins?

Have I not run so far, broken my chains, cut off my roots above and under crust?
Have I not learnt that sacred love is not one-sided, not in spirit, friendship, nor lust?
Have I not spoken in the dying night, through dreams woven with electric wiring?
Have I not pounded the walls with bare palms, under the heavy fear of expiring?

Have I not found the questions that can't be replied with words and sound?
Have I not ceased to walk in futile circles, round and round?
Have I not painted my soul on paper and re-lit the path from the start?
Have I not been granted the grandest miracle by the love in your heart?

DF	Post #: 23

9/21/2010 10:38:33

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Broken Blue

A dim promise of light on the hallway walls
Her eyes wide open, lingering at loss
A faint echo of the wild gulls' calls
Death embodied behind generous lipgloss

Droplets of thick sorrow falling into puddles, blink
Around her mouth the ghosts of forgotten smiles
Out of earth crimson clouds reaching to skies, sink
Between the bath and bedroom she has run for miles

Quivering shadows swimming across the hallway floor
Their sisters on her cheeks already turned still
Three silent blows and forever was closed the door
Fumes of breath hover above, reluctant to leave like her will

blue morning now and forever as the time stands
blue eyes now and forever before she understands
blue rhythm now and forever for each tear that lands
blue skin now and forever on her by his hands

< Message edited by Fleur Du Mal -- 10/13/2010 14:44:53 >

DF	Post #: 24

1/19/2011 16:29:12

Fleur Du Mal
Member

Surreal

In the fast-beating heart, a slave to the moon
there gallops a nightmare
with ebony eyes to dare
and clicks under its hooves

Skies ooze viscous oil, the stars dim soon
the beholder sweats in unrest
into the earth burrows a sickle and crest
soul-ripping pain follows no grooves

Furious owl glides to strike death on the fields
the mice hide their noses and tails
vultures and fairies on countless derails
the moon laughs brighter, blind and unkind

Feathers fly on the flapping wings, the owl yields
on runs the mare, over whispering sanity
rest is rejected when gloomth's the vanity
streams gush into the wild, track as free as the mind

Here comes the breath of the death, nod the pale lillies
the beholder tries to move in vain
feet turned into lead, sole way into pain
of knowing you is he and the other way around

”Why do you fear, my little sillies?”
says with a neigh the foaming horse
hiding for the night in your head, of course
and it is not to reality you've been bound.

DF	Post #: 25

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