Gothic

Gothic Illusions

Folder: 
Gothic

I see through my eyes of the deep unknown-

Everything that is morbid within place

Of every other aspect of life-not known

To others as it is to me; my Gothic past

Is now my Gothic present. I cannot now

Turn back the past illusions the Goddesses

Of the Goths have sent me-they were

Simply in distress from their own depression

And agony fortell the darkness and fire

Of the living hell I face day from day

And night to night-binding with me

The shadows of darkness that englulfed

Me into this sad, lonely and forgotten

World. The Goddesses tell me now to hang

Tight to my strengths as the Fire Goddess.

They say they don't want me to die-

I'm very important to them as the

Goddess of Fire; my flames burn within

My soul when I'm sad or angry-

Or even depressed. I see Gothic Illusions-

No longer burning crosses, but

Instead, hearts of love and friendship.

The other Goddesses are sending these

To me because they support and care

About me and don't want me to do

Anything daft that could eventually

End my life one day. That's something

I'm thankful for-the support from

The Goddesses of Goths. Their strength

To help me through all my tough times

And support me when I'm depressed

And down. They're there for me when

No one else is. They care because

Not only am I of Wiccan belief,

But because they are my best friends

And I can talk to them when I

Need them the most-they are there

Because also other Wiccans and

Myself can talk to them and get

Support for the stuff they're going

Through. My belief in the Wiccan

Faith has helped me by far to

Be who I am for what I am,

No matter what I look on the outside.

The Goddesses of Goths have taught

Me that, and their Gothic Illusions

Will continue to be the best.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem today. I thought it would be for the best. I think now that it is stupid and not worth reading, but if readers read it, they'll pro'lly find something out of it. If they do, awesomeness. If they don't, cool cool, because they pro'lly feel the same way I do about this poem. Ah well, enough rambling.

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lybriah

i am an ocean of mass deciet

a cunning chrimson robe

sheilding what lies beneath,

smooth as my skin

are my words that lure you into my cell.

sharp as razors

are my nails that slice you open after seduction

-desperate to see truth.

my eyes

they hunger for eternity

my body is restless

always on the prowl

the black cat that crosses your path

i am dark, wicked, tempting,

and fatal.

i close your lifeless eyes

savoring your dead body to cradel

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Lybriah (pronoumced libra) is my alter ego and this poem is a description of her.

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Wilted Away

Folder: 
Gothic

I'm falling, yet no one manages to catch

Me-they don't listen to what I have to say.

My friend betrayed me and now I feel

All alone in the shadows of the dark;

I don't care anymore, everyone can see it

Shining in the depths of my eyes-

Toned down to the darkest colour to touch;

Yet I know no one listens because

They're ignorant enough to be called normal.

Most of my Goth friends don't listen to me-

They're always doing something else instead;

My wrath grows stronger, yet ever so slow-

It doesn't fade into the shadows-

It stays and dominates me as a whole.

Why people are known to betray me-

I don't know-they never tell me the reason;

They're not listening to me-they don't care.

Still floating within the shadows of my wrath,

I grow stronger in my power and ability to

Conquer the spirits of the Goths and

Gain total control over their domination.

My wrath continues its growth-it's overpowering

Yet still in the glow of its mysterious power-

I could care less what the other Goths

Are telling me-but I listen to them

With an open heart that never fails to show

My feelings towards them grow stronger.

Everyone then starts to feel the power of my wrath

In which they all start ignoring me

And I end up a lost, tormented and forgotten soul

Who's wrath overcame everything but never

Held up wits against her own life-

It comes down upon me with great force,

And slams me down hard on my back-

It hurts and causes me pain-

I know; the shadows of the dark

Breathe down upon me and call my name.

The dark force of the Goths have

Withheld me in their greater strength

So I could overcome the world with my wrath.

The Goths tell me it's time-

Time to shed a teardrop and put a light

On a new era of forc since I've become

Their new leader and Satan has retired;

The Goths say that they miss Satan's rule,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem Saturday night because of one of my Goth friends betraying me. I just want her to know that I'm still there for her in spirit and will always be watching her wherever she is. If she ends up feeling like coming and actually talking to me, I will let her talk, but if she only comes up to torment me, then I will cast a deadly spell upon her with my Gothic Wiccan force. I don't deserve to be treated this badly from a friend; it just is wrong, it doesn't seem to be to the truth and facts about things and stuff. If she wants out of my Goth group of friends, then she has the right to speak up and do so. I'm willing to let her go, but if she is going to continue to ignore me, then what is her Gothic excuse for not showing up everyday during lunch period to make me eat? Geez...

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Epitaph

A title---inscribed calligraphically.

An ending---met eternally.

An existence, well... formerly,

Now has been left a mystery.



Underneath the shadows,

Wherever the smoke billows,

Only him---the god, he knows

If the headboard is yours.

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Gothic Wrath

Folder: 
Gothic

I sit here in the shadows of a forgotten era,

Seeing only things that don't appear

To others-Gothic wrath I hear your voice

Calling to me, wanting me to be the Goth

that I have always been meant to be.

My gothic wrath beholds and bestills all

The darkness of objects around me-

Why I know of only darkness to comfort me.

Gothic wrath you're very near-I feel you;

You're close by, not stopping to watch

As others fall hopelessly in their wake-

Theire pain makes them wail in agony;

Their wounds bleed blood of betrayal.

They're wailing their hurt away to their death-

Never stopping to call out for loved ones;

They hurt for themselves and loved ones.

Their only fear is my Gothic wrath

That has consumed them into terror and fear,

Not withholding them as saints or nonbelievers.

Gothic wrath-oh, Gothic wrath!

Your time spent near me has surely helped-

You've transformed me into the Goth princess;

You help me to stay alive any longer

Even though he's gone from my life forever.

Everyone knows nothing of my wrath,

But what they do know is my life here

Is limited and frail-nothing but being a

Gothic princess lost in her mind with nothing

She can do to hide her outermost fears-

Nothing but life of her Gothic wrath

Can justify from within herself to others,

The past death of Goths have shown her soul.

Shrouded in darkness i see a purity-

A purity of self indulgance;

My Goth wrath chose me to live for Satan-

It chose me for life or death of Goths;

I also chose to be the Goth I am now.

The purity of darkness I see in myself

Has a meaning others do not understand-

I see Goth light after Goth light of

Depression and immortal Goth death;

I am immortal on the inside while mortal out-

I also hear voices of the past Goths-

They're screaming for me and calling my name.

Others don't hear what I hear-

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this a couple weeks back when I was feeling the wrath of my Goth impressions bearing down upon me with the voices I've been recently hearing. I've also been referring it to the visions I've seen along with them. I can relate to this poem because it shows me the inside of my soul-dark and bewildered by light if light shines upon it.

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Hallucinations

Folder: 
Gothic

I heard her voice calling my name,

Telling me of her wish to see me

At a concert-calling my name;

Repeating that she wants to meet me.

She must know already that I'm suicidal

And that I need the extra help-

She understands what I'm going through,

That I need the help to heal.

She tells me to not cut any deeper,

And to keep being myself no matter-

She tells me she's the queen of Goths;

She calls my name with gentle voice.

I hear her, she knows I do;

She's the queen of all Goths-

She's the lead singer of my favourite band,

She makes sure I'm not hurting inside.

She coems every night, and never

Leaves my side until the morning hours-

I know her name, and know it well;

She's beautiful and as a great voice.

My best friend Anل sounds just like her-

That means a lot to me;

Theyboth sound as if they're related,

But they aren't really related.

Her voice sounds so mystical and mysterious;

And when she comes to talk to me,

She makes sure that I'll be okey;

Then she'll sing me to sleep and stay,

Whispering to me what a beautiful girl I am.

The voice is so powerful and mysterious-

I am sure it was the queen of Goths,

For it couldn't have been anyone else.

The voice continues to tell me

That the Goth gods had sent her

To watch over and to protect

Me from all the believers.

She whispers that even though she

ONly knows me on an internet forum,

She'd really want to know me outside it.

I don't answer, but I do her her;

I'm sleeping while she helps me sleep-

She tells me that she and I would

Make a great pair of best friends.

She also says that if she were my mum,

She would be able to get along with me;

She tells me that we'd be able to trust the other

And also be able to talk about our stuff.

She tells me that the reason I can hear her

Is because I worship her,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this poem because I think I might be suffering from bipolar or schitsophrania. I hear voices all the time and sometimes the voices don't go away. The voice I mentioned in the poem is someone who would probably think I was either one of them-bipolar or schtsophranic. But I don't care, because the voices don't stop, and won't stop forever.

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Death Wish

Folder: 
Gothic

Sitting here wanting to die,

Waiting for death's sentence-

I feel like hurting my life

With my Goth wrath

Shown to me as distorted ashes and Gothic death.

I listen to my Gothic music,

Watch Goth and Dark movies,

Read about dying and wishing Gothic-

I feel that my death time is here;

It has consumed me into my soul.

Yet into the ashes and distorted death

I show my pride as hidden and unknown,

Goth in all black with death near-

Near enough to silence the witness

Of the suicide within mystical features.

Of the Gothic wrath that has consumed

Me into energy and Gothic light.

Yet in the darkness is my Goth wish-

The wish to withhold my wish of death;

Knowing I want, can and will die,

Somehow there's a good chance I will

Eventually become overcome by my Gothic wrath

And will do the usual death course;

Cut myself and bleed to death-

Or tourniquet; but the wrath

Will not distort itself away from me.

If I cared about others and not

The way others have already betrayed me-

But I will not steer myself away

From the mysteries of my own Gothic wrath;

The mysteries within themselves are

Not the way my Goth mind thinks,

My Goth mind is made of dark thoughts;

Yet in the ashes I burn in the flames

Of Satan in mysterious waysof it's own.

Yet within my mind there is a dark force

Which purifies my mind and soul;

There is a mind and sould that conquers

My whole body inside my mind,

It takes over me in different ways

That others will not be able to explain

To others about my Goth wrath

That engulfs me in ashes and flames-

Showing pain and depression of others

Which will consume me into the mix

Of the texture with my Goth wrath.

My death wish continues to grow-

Intensifying into Goth depression,

Will go into Goth death wish;

It shall show me why I am Goth,

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this a few days ago when I was in ELO in school. I wrote it because of the strong inscence that I was being watched. It also tells about my life as Goth, and how it will take away my pain and suffering if I just let out and kill myself before it's too late and Satan has consumed me into his wrath as well as my own Goth wrath.

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In the Darkness

Folder: 
Gothic

All I see within the darkness

Is swift Gothic light-

Nothing can withstand the thrill

Of my wrath known as death;

Only one will know of my wrath,

My best friend knows of it-

No one else knows of it.

No one else in the shadows

Will fulfill every single Gothic act-

Never will they repay the betrayal

Most have already caused my life;

Only my best friend will repay

The Gothic act used upon me

To help with betrayal to others.

Yet in the darkness I am Gothic-

My friends and followers alike;

They have no falters without fear-

They have no regret against betrayal,

They feed upon the Gothic wrath

That has consumed me into place

Of distorted ashes and Gothic death.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Pretty much self-explanitory. My Gothic status in life has also shown me well in life.

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Scarce

Ghosts swelling up

From the black of the fog

In a scarce lament

They blend into the air

Thick as the boiling blood

Of the leaky faucet

Wailing the severed tune

About the night

About the black of the fog

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