[x]

The clock struck nine
The illusion of a beautiful woman

What madness can this be?
She is calling out to me
My name… my name on her lustful lips
And now my hands pressed on her hips
Oh! Her smile! Her caress!
That croon which must be blessed!

The clock struck ten
The temptations of a temptress

This woman, so beautiful in every way,
With my heart, she does recklessly play
Her eyes so dark, yet brightly glowing
Her hair so soft and gently flowing
Her skin so silky cannot be soiled
But to the touch, is so deathly cold

The clock struck eleven
The prayer without the belief

What this gorgeous being is, I don't bother
Yet hold

BLISS

To look into his eyes—
Those that scheme your own demise—
Is to relinquish every selfish desire

To go so far
As to blindly light your own funeral pyre

And only relish
In that lavish gift of insanity

To crave his glances,
His graces, his subtle advances
Is to delve into unforgiving vanity

To sigh into his embrace—
Your mind gone away without a trace—
Is to be consumed wholly and completely

To give in and
Suffocate in silence—alone—discretely

And with bated breath
Love the very essence of what is him

To carve out your own heart
Bury it with him—to never be apart
Is to sicken yourself with sweetes

Feelings are Dust (even when ours are the same)

Dark chocolate & espresso
with Bic ink you're dust.
My stomach & your brain
makes dawn a twilight red dusk.

A couple of words
describe us two.
Two words:
me & you.

Get the drift? Feel that draft?
That's an ozone aroma, a prelude to rain.
Nature's craft is my gift
and my gift is just a game.

I don't know how you feel now but if you'll have some dark chocolate and espresso with me we'll probably feel the same.

Whatever that's worth.

My Darkest Hour

My Darkest Hour

I've become lost
In my sundered reflection

I've finally crossed
The line of desperation

I sense something sinister
Something that is beyond cruel

My tears seem to hinder
Ready to break down soon
-
The darkness is always waiting

To rule / To conquer
To swallow / To devour
To return / To overpower

The shadows are always lurking

As I cry / As I weep
As I beg / As I plead
As I fall / As I grieve

The blinding fear is consuming
-
My anxiety-infected veins pour
I'm beyond weak

I don't want to be afraid anymore
Let me bleed

This is the only way out
A perfect exit for a coward

No longer am I bound
I couldn't survive my dark

Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:

Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.
He remembers all the things he said, profanity.
Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.
He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-

When he woke up, desire!
He made a move like fire.
His whispers; a liar,
His heart snaps, like wire!

But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?
Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.
was it all his fault with no one else to blame,
Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-

Spit that and live that,
Hate when you love that!
You rip that and tear that,
Scream like you know that!

Stop for

Coming OutWith promises to be good,
you prayed every day
and waited for the sign,

even when a songbird touched
down on the roofs of Kansas
and went hollow on your shoulder.

The shedding of teardrops,
the coming out of a heartland
from its religion.

Breathing the smoke of its ash,
and being washed clean of what
you thought you knew.

The locusts never come,
the harvest will yet fail,
but don't deny the butterfly

that carries you over pastures
of dairy cows too busy
to look up at you and judge.

An Oath to My FatherAn Oath to My Father:

The chill of winter is nothing, when compared to the cold inside my heart.

A fire, once stoked by the warmth of family, has quietly died, five falls past.

I dream of my father, who watches from beyond the realms - and my ancestors

Who fought against an endless army of giants, to win the lands we have today.

Just as a devout man honours his God through worship, I honour them through my axe!

Each stroke of the whetstone, each screech of the metal, brings me closer to them -

Even as I draw closer to my doom. Oh how I can feel him, for the anger in my blood

Boils evermore as I sense him approaching my camp. He is hun

Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:

Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.

Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...

Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...

Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012

The Unread BookYou only see the outline
Please take a closer look
I am the silhouette
I am the unread book

Letters and words within me
Arranged in such a way
This narrative keeps the readers eyes fixed
To the words that I say

Evoking an array of emotions
From the first page to the last
Keep you from putting me down
Chapter to paragraph

Heroes and heroines
Acting out in fictional arenas
Facts and figures educate
And quench lifes thinkers and dreamers

The feel of my page on your fingers
The scent that lies within
They judge me on my appearance
Before the first chapter even begins

So I remain on the shelf
Slowly gathering dust
Nowadays t

Memories of WarMemories of War:

What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...

A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?

Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...

And the world will soon forget.

Fill my heart with this regret?

For the victims written in stone.

Unspoken sin you now atone...

Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain

Artemis Of The Bow

Twin of my brethren youth,
This forest is thou own.
Sworn to the faces of the moon
And the silver, Divinity bestows.
Off the hunt, and above the hounds -
Life within the bow.
Fairest maiden of many calls,
This forest is thou own.
Archer of the gleaming dart,
My sister of the dualist two -
The nymphs have sworn their oath,
To the daughter who runs with wolves.
Favoured by Zeus and amongst all Gods,
Man played no part in this -
No part in the making of this maiden.
Thy fair Goddess, Artemis.

Vishnu Dreams of Marilyn MonroeIn cities of ashen shine you pucker lips
too lush to be anything but bridges.

Winding through windows
the wind chimes slowly,
mingles the threads of your brown hair
with the voice of horses wild, unseen,

brought from the steppes of common place heaven
to the machination of light that surrounds you,
city dwelling fox of the fiery tome
of unreason.

In this catastrophic miracle that is my dream,
in this cosmic clutter of symbols
and names

where the histories are meaningless
and bones turn to stone
and stones fly,
launched from the small hands of children;
in this reckless melody first heard
so many dreams ago, this compositi

To Save Your Life

To Save Your Life

Heroes are hard to come by

Especially in this day and age

Because of you- I am still alive

Hail, the vanquisher of pain
-
I fought as long as I could have
But I sank into the weakness below
And I felt my sorrow's wrath
The helplessness took over

My fists let go
Of the resistance

I fell from hope
The light faded in the distance

It was all a dream
A wish...

A simple false belief
I hid...
-
Hands dangled frantically / Tears dripped endlessly
I needed a hero to save me / I yearned to be set free
-
A hand reached out
Held tight...

I was finally found
Relieved sigh...

I rose back to grace
And the darknes

TheismThe black widow martyr
drips misery across the scenery
while the sky bleeds acid into unmarked graves
and headstone cracks
[[with worm hole veins]]

Her flesh is tissue paper
creased in four dimensions
but she remembers her prayers
and questions her motives
[[does she still believe?]]

Today, the rope is playing God

truth is, I don't wanna love you.Is it really fear?
Till my blood runs silver, pure mercury.
I know little of coherency.
-
Today feels like chalk and phlegm and pheromones.
I remain a retching mound of meat.
An undulating mass of muscles and organs.
-
When I thought of you I thought of flesh.
Sensation and numbness,
breathing while holding my breath
alive but always dead
-
I saw red, maraschino streaks.
Lines of flamingo pink creased across the surface.
Then I thought of flesh and blood and feeling
and for a second,
I couldn't hate you.
-

Is this fear?

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No Evil

by =NoxSatuKeir, Nov 29, 2012, 7:29:05 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

A window standing without a wall
To see through
To see truth
To see all
Cherished Witness be certain without the fault

A melody playing without an instrument
To hear songbird
To hear heartache
To hear lament
Precious Child be understanding without the argument

A voice ringing without a tongue
To speak loud
To speak mind
To speak unsung
Beloved Soul be right without the wrong

See no evil
Hear no evil
Speak no evil

No Evilby =NoxSatuKeir

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Not one of my best poems, I don't think. But I felt inspired to write it. So here it is.
See No Evil. Hear No Evil. Speak No Evil.

Original Skeletons
Original texture