News:

Actually sport it is a narrative

Main Menu

Asmodean's dark poetry

Started by Asmodean, June 10, 2008, 06:54:48 PM

Previous topic - Next topic

Asmodean

I was doing some editorial stuff on soem of my old poems and decided to share some excerpts from them with you.
Bricks or flowers - all responses are welcome.

From "Prophecies of Dark Salvation" - my attempt at a big epic thing.

Between the jungle and the deep black water
Waking up from a beautiful dream
To discover the world, full of horror
Where nothing is as it seems

On a beach of white, shifting sands
Years pass by like wind in the mountains
One thin line where one life stands
Taking its chances

It's the place where dreams are born
Rivers of crimson blood become clear
Waterfalls of tears crash against gray stone
Sun shines through black clouds of fear

There's a wonderful, bright white light
Seen by those, who are hopelessly lost
Marked by shadow of sorrow and hate
A mysterious line only dead ones can cross

Like links in a larger chain
(Will they ever break down and destroy it?)
Memories of the past must remain
Between the ocean and the great forest

Silent servants of fallen empires
Damned forever to rise from the flames
They continue to peer through the fires
Hoping to glimpse the white light once again


The mirror

When light is gone
And darkness has prevailed
Tearing down the walls
I run from my own prison
Wriggling poisonous snakes
Inside my veins come alive
Fading to shades of gray
I seek the true meaning of love
The mirror is twisted
Making a lie more true
In the long evening shadows
Rain has fallen apart
Crusading forever for twilight
I write down these lines
In my blood


From "City of Broken Dreams" - my very first attempt at a big epic thing.

Leaving the dust of the desert behind
Two tired eyes stare aimlessly into nothing
A traveller's making his way through the night
Leaving no sign of his passing

Not looking back at the life that was
Every bridge is now burning behind him
All that is there will always be lost
The horizont ahead looks hostile and dim

The City of Broken Dreams
Where streets turn red every dawn
With its alleys at night filled with screams
Is waiting and calling for him to go on

There are skeletons on the ground
Silent witnesses of their own drama
Wind in dead branches makes sounds
Like thousands lost souls are calling for someone

***
Quote from: Ecurb Noselrub on July 25, 2013, 08:18:52 PM
In Asmo's grey lump,
wrath and dark clouds gather force.
Luxembourg trembles.

Will

Fantastic! If you're suddenly inspired, I hope you'll share in the Happy Atheist Poetry Jam:
viewtopic.php?f=4&t=1303
I want bad people to look forward to and celebrate the day I die, because if they don't, I'm not living up to my potential.

Asmodean

Cool! Can someone merge this thread with that one? We can /necromancy it :-D
Quote from: Ecurb Noselrub on July 25, 2013, 08:18:52 PM
In Asmo's grey lump,
wrath and dark clouds gather force.
Luxembourg trembles.