Asian Eyes

Inside a room behind
silhouetted black hair
Khmer traditional wear
Ruined Dreamer
Asian eyes
confession to
to the illusions
she created
surely weighted
with regret .
Jaded dragon`s
burned desire.
A single wet tear
a rivulet .
Pallid and breathless
as the window
is drowned with rain .
gauzy grey clouds gather .
Thunder crashes
sending the fiery ashes
of passion scattered
into pieces back
into life's creases .
Chasing the spiral
of everything that made me feel
connected now
has left me divided into
Locked in a
lightless room divided,
I can see through the smallest
of windows provided ,
past regret to the pinpoint of life
that blooms on the horizon
behind the Dark City where there`s always
an door open
to the blood moon rising .
View sinisterbeast72's Full Portfolio

The Death of One

The Death of One

A blood orange moon hangs above
an ashen willow tree
underneath a path of cremated things.
Through the rotton remains
of something strange.
Descending down in thick black coils of mist
like snakes that move and twist , to the
Dark City where only death exists.

In each crosswalk , pushing past the cloned
cattle that crowd the street , going to slaughter
at the holy temples where they meet.
Down the parkway where every door painted red is
adorned with shrunken heads.
Bad religion holds dominion over those of
delusional opinions.

Coming upon a single oil lamp
shrouded in gloom above  a blackened door
heavy as a tomb.
Enshrined with cellar vines
decaying with corpse fed roots
that hang obtuse.

As the door struggles inward , the wind breathes shallow
candlelight throws shadows on the family congregation .
Slender  yellow eyes quiver ,
leer and lurch from atop their perch on a
mountain of belief , held upon pillars of salt
that crumble
thats faith
a cancer , feeding on the brain
no healing
just stealing life ,
til gravity gives ground to the
illusion .

From behind the blackened door
at the gate  , be brave and wait . From the living to the dead ,
the slurred screams of endearment echo in my head .
A confession of confinement to your
death bed where you have been led into the darkness
that holds you.  For the moment far from the reach of pains
enrollment.  Memories will soon replace constraint and grow in the light
of the tunnel to free  you from the exhaustion of this lifes struggle.
You will soon know peace through deaths release.

                                                                                                                     SinisterBeast72  01 / 2015

Because I Moved On


Is it as though I died,

And do they reminisce?

Or is my name forbidden,

To pass from their lips?


Do they think of me,

And wish I were there?

Do they miss my presence,

Am I even a passing care?


Does a tear ever drift down,

From within' their eye?

Are they aware how I miss them...

Of how much I cry?


Do they hold me in blame,

And such utter contempt?

Because I took control of me,

Or is my happiness exempt?


Will they ever accept me again,

And be involved in my life?

For I never stop being their mother,

...Just stopped being, the wife.



View cathycavalcante's Full Portfolio

Do you understand me?

I don’t understand you

Do you understand me?

Tears stream down my face

Screams rip from my throat

Bitter resentment claws through my chest

As I watch the liquor slide down your neck

Do you understand me then?


Blood flows from my temple

Mixing with the salt water

That has stained my cheeks

Pain and Agony pulls me to my knees

As you plunge the knife

Up through my ribs

Do you understand me then?


You do not.

I know that now

I am no longer four years old

So sweet beloved Father

Pick up the bottle

Take another swig

Throw another punch

Launch another kick

For now I know

You don’t understand me

But I understand you


My great-grandmother Rompope

"No matter when, no matter what, you can always see my great-grandma with her “rompope” glass. I don´t know if it was the taste of eggs or the feeling in your throat, but it was really weird seeing a 95 years-old lady getting drunk. Some aunts said she had always have that drinking problem, but I can´t find why they said that, she enjoyed that eggnog so much how could that be a problem for her! Maybe it was Christmas night, a birthday party or just a hot afternoon in her hot house with no air conditioner drinking her hot eggnog glass, but she always look happy and grateful with life. I met her in her late 80´s and 90´s, and I was fascinating of how much life could it be inside an old woman that taught her great-grand son how to play and bet on cards, or to enjoy a little of rompope, even though it tasted like scramble eggs.  And people says it was better when she could walk, in her younger years she was more than a party girl, making everybody pranks and making everybody laugh. Once she dressed up as a white widow, with the white dress and the white makeup, she waited outside my great-grand dad window, and scared him almost to death by no reason.  She used to say “better have the glass in hand, than having to look for one”, and that´s so true why would you stop doing what you like, just because someone else is embittered with life. You can see life like some people do, a period where you pass your time, pleasuring the others, working for them to achieve their goals and letting your time extinct, or you can live your life like good old great-grandma Rosa, enjoying the little moments, the little talks, the opportunities to be yourself and do whatever you like, as always with a glass of eggnog by your side. Yeah, she is one of my heroes, for one side I would like to see me drinking beer at the age of 95, and for the other side even though she lived almost a century she was never tired, she was full of happiness like a teenager drinking zips and zips from her glass of rompope. Now I finally understand, it wasn´t about the alcohol or getting drunk, it was only taking a break to enjoy the moment and having fun."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Rompope = Eggnog

View bernardogd's Full Portfolio

The Family Pet





Fourteen years ago, I was with my family on a typical Sunday night
on the highway when a man made us move aside the road and told us that he was
giving away a dog. This dog was a puppy whose breed was Springer Spaniel and
obviously me and my sisters wanted a dog more than anything in the world so my
parents accepted it. We named our puppy Annie and on the first weeks she was in
our home she caused all kind of troubles. She destroy our bathroom door and she
cried all night long, but she needed to learn to be by her own because she was
going to be a big dog and someday she was going to be on the backyard the
house. That's why we give her a teddy bear, which made her tranquilize during
the night. Months passed by and she was getting bigger and bigger so we decided
it was time to take her out, so that
s what we did.

One day when my sister and I woke up, we went downstairs and Annie was asleep on the sofa, which was very funny to me but I guess it wasn't funny in my mom's opinion. Annie was a very playful dog, she
always wanted us to play with her and her toys, her favorite was a chicken leg
that made sounds. Every time we bought her a new toy, she never wanted it and
we understood that she wouldn't accept any other that wasn't her chicken leg. Annie
was also a very strong dog but sadly that strength started to diminish. Years
ago, my family and I found out that she was getting sick and the doctors told
us that it was nothing dangerous so we believed them but it turned out that it
was actually dangerous. Another period of time passed by and she began to get
really weak and then what we all fear about, happened. She died four weeks ago
and she was near her fourteen years of life. Even though she is not physically
with me and my family, we will always have her in our hearts and in our
memories and we will always be thankful for her life and the happiness and love
she bring us. Annie was a very special dog for us and we miss her like crazy
but that's how life is, sooner or later it was going to happen and we thank God
that she stayed with us the time that she needed to stay. 




View alexandrasantos's Full Portfolio


I cut my blood with water,

As I have always done,

I disgrace my pedigree,

Screwing up my family tree,

Even though it has just begun,

I traded one mans soul,

For the fate of three,

But how can I make sense of myself,

When my hand are stained with the sins of my past,

How can I discover my identity,


When guilt is the only thing that defines me.

View s.i.rose's Full Portfolio


When souls are dark as the night

When solace lies not in the stars

But in the dream kept by others

And in those tears not shed

For solace is forgotten

In all but the darkest of nightmares

View reminiscent's Full Portfolio
















View william377keith's Full Portfolio