2 a.m.

December 18, 2009

The moon overhead,
watching me as I take
each breath.
The stars hiding
behind dark clouds,
disappointed at the haze.
With my every wake,
as I exhale,
the smoke I take.
The houses all asleep,
but for mine.
Several alit,
home to insomniacs
we are all alike.
Bats fly
past me overhead
as dogs bark in the distance
I care not
for it all.
The one thing
that matters to me
right now, resides
in each breath I take.
The fact I’m still alive
though fact remains
I’m wanted gone.
By Pahness


Summer Love

November 11, 2009

I loathe you,
for the simple fact
that you remind me
of all the memories
we shared lovingly,
that summer not long ago.
The one we shared together,
the one that brings me joy
amongst the tears that flow
to this very day,
which I wipe away,
sorrowfully knowing that,
that summer will never
dawn again, even for a moment
though I pray
and call out for it
every night, each night
with all my might,
to the Lord I call,
Please, oh please,
bring it all back,
that smile that shone
on my face
and our fingers intertwined,
bodies one,
united on the grass,
long-fully looking
at your brown eyes,
that sparkled in the sun,
bright, young, filled with love.
You were the sun,
to my Earth.
Sunflowers bloomed
all day for us to see
and at night,
the stars told tales
of us high above.
But, the moon one day,
crossed our paths
and did eclipse you
and darkness resounded
all round me
when the shadows lifted,
changed you were, and
we were now done,
you were taken
and I was alone.

By Skeet

Cycle of the Night

October 28, 2009

The Moon fades away into the clouds that shimmer silver light,
approaching twilight with the dimples of my troubled mind.
As dawn becomes the soldier for Mighty Soleil and will bide,
the ripples of my misery will come undone, but never reunite.

The Dawn breaks and unfolds into the path that does remind,
the heavens have lifted and gone until night.
Till dusk approaches I will be in this strife,
and without a penance I shall no longer abide.

The Dusk shading a miserable existence to loom in darkness and pine,  
the hell that calls to me, until time I shall bide with my mind.
Till light dawns, and breaks into action that is considered irate,
my misery and woes will replenish, though no more an advocate.


By gucken