Wondering Thought

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What defines humanity ?

the lust of creation,

the question of damnation,

or the curiosity of the seeking mind?

What aches Humanity ?

the desecration of ideals,

the moral compass of illumination,

or the helpless wonders of the lonely kind ?

Our innocence is merely tremor-ed,

defiled by the numbness of the aching mind.

The curiosity destroyed

in the eyes of the sulking child.

Moral ideals shattered,

only to find forgiveness

through non-existent divine.

What destroyed humanity?

The barren walls of the dying mind.

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All Souls

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All souls taste death.

But death comes before life itself.

We reap together in sorrow,

each soul in its agony.

Writhing away in the pain,

the unending pledge of misery.

All souls light up in courage,

the boys get beaten,

the girls get raped.

We are never truly let go,

a hellish existence constricting

every sentence of the story,

ending with periodic failure.

We can slither together,

huddle up in the warmth,

but the cold is ever lasting,

it picks us off one by one.

All souls cower at the hands of fear

where lust wears emotion

and we are conquered by the journeyed few.

they end our dreamless love

in a fathomed experienced blow.

All souls taste death,

but all souls live through death.

Mother Knows Best

Mother Knows Best

Your scribes.

These words of fools you aspire.

Do they not seek,

the same knowledge you require?

The image of envious beauty you spool.

Do they not fear,

what the world may inspire ?

Your heart,

the cherry of the gloom.

Does it not whither,

in these lands of the dire.

You reach through all the laden fools,

have you not seen the stricken fire?

Why do you wonder,

in these endless lies ?

When we seek your pleasure,

the ever lustful kind.

why do you dream;

of thorny spikes.

When we know the rest.

Of the story,

Of your desire.

Image Credits: Xx-RA-xX

The “Wiser” of Us

The “Wiser” of Us

They say their times

of past have gone.

The dire comes,

behold your mourns,

but wreck they do

the ends of your desire.

A sour smile

for the dreams in your ire.

They say your words

will be the last.

their lasts will long,

until you do pass.

“For we are beings of holy lust,

only your true form,

is a shame to us.”

They sell away your soul for dimes.

The endless torture,

for some petty rhymes.

They shall be dying

until you remain,

but live they will,

to see your heart be pierced,

by the honorable family spire.

Image Credits: plus-i-minus

The Sinful Heart’s Plea

Alright! So its been a while since i posted, but hopefully that will stop now since i’m finally free from the clutches of higher studies. This poem is inspired by a lot of religiously regretful poems i have come across today, hopefully it doesn’t prove to be too dark. (featured image credits: http://eliantart.deviantart.com/)

The Sinful Heart’s Plea

love lust and misery,

are all the same to me.

The pain i feel,

is crueler than treachery.

I heed but not this symphony

for i love the pain of agony.

So shower unto me

your tyranny,

for I deem myself unworthy

of your sympathy.

Man’s Love of Misery

okay, so i wrote this a while ago and just recently found it in a notebook. It’s got a few errors, almost like everything i post but i think its something I’m proud of.

Photo credits: http://boltonartist.deviantart.com/

Man’s love of misery

Of men who bestow their blood to faith,

mystery I due,

a seer mistake.

For misery laughs in the blood of fate,

When aching slow

And devour great.

For men who lay with the soulless fume.

The strains of mercy,

boil and gloom,

and fear is sought,

in glittery dews,

to harness love in its hurtful lure.

For men desire desire the luxury of late,

through sheer cold,

determination

and distaste.

For misery smiles,

in failure of frays.

The seraphims of earth,

Lay helpless in blades.

For destiny speaks in sour tones of straight.

There is no strength to conquer,

man’s love of misery and mistakes.