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AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along
False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days, 
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be 
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen
Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for? 
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude
ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).
False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.
False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for
Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.
VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire
WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are 
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.
Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.
bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.
HumanDear Hypocrite,

 What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

 Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

 What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

 What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

 
Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.
Browse More Like This

More from *Entitaria

SilenceSnap.

The thread tightens around her wrist.

Snatching up her skin.

Blood pools.

The thread stretches in to the ceiling.

Holding up the arms of a soul long past.

A thread so small, so weak.

Holding the weight of a boulder refusing to float.

Her eyes travel up to the lone window,

A gentle sunlight flittering through.

Her tears have dried.

Locked in a room for a small eternity.

A white dress.

Once an epitome of kindness,

Singed with the remains of a burning desire.

A desire to feel.

A desire to win.

A soul no longer retained,

In that tiny little body.

It gazes into the eyes of herself, trying to get back in.

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×

Abyss

:iconentitaria:

A hand rose up,
Gliding along a crack.
Her eyes travelling up,
To find them staring back.

An empty brown.
Swirling in its own,
Reality.

And her hand left the mirror,
Halfway.
The distance from the reflection,
And her neck,

And she clasped,
The sides.
Feeling the warmth travel through.

But the coloured liquid,
Didn't change at all.



She woke with a start.

Couldn't see anything but the moonlight flittering,
Through the cracks of a broken window.


I see that number in your eye.
The spirals it's creating.
The chaos it's spreading.



The remnants of a dream still clinging to her conscious mind.


I can see your outline.
The shadows it's casting.
The darkness you're forming.



She flailed,
Wildly for a moment,
Losing her vision,
And in a flurry of movement,
Lost her balance.


Let me find a way around,
Nothing with me, my hands bound.



So she sat, on a soft carpet that felt,
As if it was absorbing her very being.
Hands dangling off raised knees,
Back against a cold bed,
Her head raised to high skies.


And then I'm awake.
Forcing my hands onto the sink.
The mirror shatters.
As the number falls through.



And with her eyes shut,
A breeze wafting past,
A crow in the distance,
The moonlight as her companion,
She falls asleep.


Let me find a way around,
    So I may sleep and drown.


I command that you... Fall into the Abyss.

240

19 9 2
:iconentitaria:

Abyssby *Entitaria

DescriptionDetailsShare
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:music: [link] & [link] :music:

This is, slightly, different from what I usually write, but that's because there are very strong links between everything written.

They have these links because of an old story I came up with when I was much younger, in fact, it's one of the oldest things I have in my memory. It's a story, that will never be told.

Becuase it was my way of escaping reality up until the time I wrote my poem-prose "Of Masks That Wear Faces". It's partly because the main character of that story was heavily based on my own personality. So, I'd just daydream a lot, including even more stories in my own, it's probably long enough for me to write a couple of books about it. But like I said, it's never leaving my head. This...scene has been modified to fit both a scene from the story itself, and the three pieces; Wish, Mirror and the short version of Abyss.

So, the first part in italics is a part of the collection of poems I wrote about four years ago, and it's one you haven't seen before, I'll put it up as a seperate piece as well in a few moments.

More:
WaitThere's a path waiting for me right here.

Escapes are never the answer.
I wonder of times,
When I was so close,
To falling of the edge,
Of a free fall,
Waiting to happen.

Pushing and shoving seems to be a necessity.
I feel the beat-BeaT-beat,
Of a heart going thump-THuMP-thump,
While drowning in ice-IcE-ice.

I seem to be on the edge of a cliff.
Pull me away,
From the land beneath my feet,
Toss aside my will,
Propel towards the beginning,
Make it happen.

There's a path waiting right here.

Don't let it slip through you,
Ever again. Ink and ToolsIt spreads like wildfire.
The colour fleeing.
You press down harder.
The colour travels.

You wonder why.
There's beauty.

There's nothing there.
But the remnants of ink.
On a paper to be filled.

You wonder why.
There's so much more to that one colour.

You frown.

You test it.
An irreversible space.
An irreversible time.

And a smile graces your lips.
As you gentle your grip.
And the flow slows.

You don't mind really.
There's just so much more to be done. GreenAbove and floating.

There's a certain wisp you feel wrapping around your waist, the cool breeze wafting, through the gaps, between the strands of your hair.

Shone and fell.

There's a leaf descending, gently, onto the slight of your shoulder. You lift your hand, sweep it off.

It's peaceful.

But...

The ever present double edged sword is still there.

And always will be.

You realise this.

And accept it.

Your mind is running, at speeds you don't realise yourself. The ideas blasting through the crevices of your minds cave.

Completely disconnected from the caves around your own.

There's a disorganised train of thought,
ideas and impulse Whispering WordsTell me.
A secret.
A note.
A varying collection of whispers that mean,
Nothing.

___________
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©2012-2013 *Entitaria
Category: Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

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Submitted on
August 31, 2012
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:icontravelgirlxx:
!travelgirlxx Feb 12, 2013
Critique for :iconsuperwritershelp:

I like so many of the images you're portraying in this piece. I like how there's a bit of confusion about when she's awake and when she's sleeping, super creepy.

I really want this line:

She flailed, wildly for a moment, losing her vision, and in a flurry of movement, lost her balance.

to be less prose. Rather than one long sentence, I think it would flow better and have a stronger punch if it had shorter, choppier lines.

The lines not in italics: I think it would show a bit more of the deterioration of the persona if they start long and flowing, and gradually become choppier, and more frantic. :)

The very last line: I don't think it's necessary, especially because of the poem's title. If you take it out, you really leave the reader hang with the impending doom of the poem's persona. I always feel the strongest poems end on an image, rather than a statement, leavings its readers with something concrete to remember it by.

Really great start. I think with just a bit of polishing it will be a really strong piece!!
Reply
:iconentitaria:
*Entitaria Feb 16, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Ahah~ Thank you very much for the feedback! To be honest I hadn't even realised I wrote that line in prose, I'll change that now. (:

Hmm, the parts which aren't in italics and the last sentence, I was going for a feeling that even with the deterioration taking place, there was still this thin line of sanity being held, somehow, signified by the girl falling asleep? That's why I'm a little reluctant to change it in that way, but if you think something else could help it along...? :meow:
Reply
:icontravelgirlxx:
!travelgirlxx Feb 17, 2013
Yes, the deterioration!! I like that you're holding on to some manner of sanity while the deterioration progresses. Perhaps make the parts where she is deteriorating, the italics, go from bad to worse as the poem progresses?? I just want to see some progressing of her losing sanity as the poem goes. I also want to see her holding tightly to a strand of sanity as the poem ends.

I don't think you have far to go!! :D
Reply
:icondreamfutureais:
*DreamFutureAis Sep 2, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
This is really put together well. :love:
Reply
:iconentitaria:
*Entitaria Sep 2, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Glad you think so! All of these are done on a whim, Hahah, barely ever planned. :P
Reply
:icondreamfutureais:
*DreamFutureAis Sep 2, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
That's how poems usually should be written, right? They should never be planned because that doesn't show how a person really feels. Then again, a kids poem can be planned, so that comment only applies sometimes. :XD:
Reply
:iconentitaria:
*Entitaria Sep 2, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Careful! I might just word-vomit something disastrous, and you'll be saying 'OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THIS HORRENDOUS PIECE OF...' Uh, I mean flowers! :XD:
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:icondreamfutureais:
*DreamFutureAis Sep 3, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
LOL :XD:
Reply
:iconentitaria:
*Entitaria Sep 3, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
:iconbiggrinplz:
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