metaphors

Into the Depths of Chaos


I slip into an onyx dream
darker than any decaying thing
From the void trying to fill the void
Like Erebus I too am born of Chaos
-unraveling in a mist of dissonance
The silken noose tightens
I am cast into my own Spellhold-
cursed and forgotten
Pain is a welcomed refuge
Lest the 'stars hide their fires'
I will burn into a blacken ember

The hour of silence beckons
Echidna coils her fiery despair
Round and round, over and over
A mother's love- her beautiful poison
And sinks her fangs while
begging for absolution

I sink below the slithering surface
where nighmares wash away the sadness
There is no peaceful passing
She carves her scars into her child's heart
And only with her blessing does she allow any healing

I slip further into the tangled madness
caught on layers of dissension
The steady beating of despair
is slowly creating a new heir
She shows you the horizon
She tells you it is near
Then she swims in self delusion
all while drowning others with her fear

I close my eyes, I open them wide
Inside a sleepless mind, the quiet
is a beautiful lie
Like it or not I have to choose-
To descend further into a watery grave
or tie the noose 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

**My relationship with my mother can be quite...tumultuous**

Five Year Journey

The weather is well

The sky is blue

The day anew

The little birds wake and sing

We wake because our alarms ring

I can’t tell

If that was the screams in my head or

The school bell

I’m inside

Inside again

Inside myself

Translation of my ideas, I’m deaf

Sympathetic to several causes

Seemingly smart with scarce solutions

Often imagining the future

Taking the high way in the maze of life

Road block

Stagnated, frustrated

Angst

Initially, but it evolved courageously

It’s hard to understand ourselves

Time is the patron of change

 

Now that I get it

Or

That I think I get it

I’d like to rewind

And restart the picture I painted

Purify the person I tainted

Use the colors that I wish I used

My eyes see nothing new, I’m unamused

Now there’s nowhere to memorize just open your mind

Analyze every line

Because all the world’s a stage

Regressed to Illiteracy 

In my book I can’t seem to turn the page 

Learning till the day I die

Consumption of corruption because it’s easy

 

Though,

Our interests are mutual

Alone like my daily ritual

Instant satisfaction

Failing to ponder and think critically

Why don’t we ask why

By social stigma we act cynically

To me my shadow is colorful

Full

The feeling we search for

Push and pull

Two sides seen by only two eyes

Left & right, black & white

Understanding is out of sight

Success

Maybe

I might

Still figuring it out

 

Silence kisses my lips

Only talking when we take sips

Beats my heart skips

My conscious flows in the veins of my eyes

My tongue is red like my lies

Tarnished are my teeth and my thoughts

And without purpose my soul rots

The human hand is the door knob to a person

But my hands are locked in fists

Wrinkles in our palms

The fleshy manifestation of our route through life

Legs like ruined Roman columns

Glory with revitalization

Destruction with mistreatment

Only if he comes to a sooner realization

He’ll become a traitor of stag-nation

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My first written poem. The title simply signifies the teenage years and I feel as if it really dug deep into my 17 year old head. Please tell me what you thought of it.

Poetry

Watching the words play on the page,

he begins to learn the rules of thier game.

He converses with the referees and officials,

known to most as grammar and punctuation.

He is introduced to the all the players,

but noun, verb, and adjective are the starters.

Eventually, he is confident enough to coach

his own team and becomes an author.

He develops his tactics and strategy,

and slowly his playbook thickens.

He wonders if one day he and his players can go

the distance and together become champions.

Such a wonder, that such a wondrous

world arose from twenty six scribbles

and a few meager symbols in between.

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A few thoughts on poetry.

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Silver & Gold

Not quite gold

But somehow always compared to it

I've heard of its value,

Its mention through the years

Mostly exsting in wedding bands

Or in cutlery for the wealthy.

I do not know its worth

I do not know gold's either

And there the comparisons continue

I wonder if the element minds

Remaining in second place,

Always being looked down by gold,

Its perfect big brother,

If you will.

Silver makes good heart-shaped lockets,

I'm sure it also serves

To uncover a deadly monster

Featured in Supernatural.

I'm sure silver does not like being silver.

I wouldn't want to be silver.

I think gold is what silver wants to be.

It does not want to end up a knife,

Spoon,

Fork,

Silver wants to be wanted

So much that others fight for it.

Silver wants to be looked at

For its bright color,

Not the dull grayish one

It comes with.

Silver could be gilded,

Though that would make it worthless.

But I don't think silver is that bad

If you really think about it.

Gold attracts too much attention,

While silver is a reserved one.

I know silver wants to be gold,

And to stop being compared and contrasted

Heartlessly

But maybe at the end of the day

Silver just wants to stay silver