Poem: Hourglass of Mercury

Come to Time
To Ponder While
A Poison's Kiss
Shrall grant my Wish
To End the World
Of Time and Wait
And Soul in Chains
Cups like Swords with Shining Wine
Forbidden Fruits of Earth and Rock
To Juice of Iron and sweetened Strain.
Behold, my Breath ran dead
From Sudden Sound
Come with me,
And you'll see,
Where you'll Drown 
In a Sea of Mercury.

Poem: Mystic Box

Four Swords,
One Box,
Magician's Act,
Winner's Prize,
Illusion Fancy,
Eye Candy,
Suspence,
Commence,
Insert!
...
My Act has failed
My Swords impaled,
Magic Box reveals and leaks,
Cherry Red Water of Passover Breath

Poem: The Hermit (Beatnik Poem)

Living Tranquil,
Peace above and around,
Standing Up Right,
Wondering Lights,
Pondering Sound,
No Longer Earthbound,
Wisdom See and Wisdom is,
Isolation

Poem: Plasma Zone

Clouds of Umbral Charm
Encircling Hills across the Map,
Landscape Carved of Dismal Stone,
From Canyonside to Cliffs and Gaps,
Life as tough as bone soon crave the water Umbral Charm will save.
Air moistend,
Without Alarm,
With clouds of Umbral Clarm,
Then ignites with Flash Assunder
Before the Raging Thunder.

Poem: Winter Season

Violins light up night sky of the winter night.

The air is bare through the stars as the moon's play jacks with diamonds lighting the heart of ravishing darkness.

The Sun and the moon give nature it's shivering bounty.

The snow kills the soul as the dead sleep a cardinal-night,

Death to Reincarnate by distilled right to magic asunder by the assundering light of the ground to the dark from the blanket in the dormy sky.

By Dancing magic by the rain by day fortnight.

Snow Queen to Winter Father down in-as foggy breath.

Any by either;

Extra Weekends All-around.

Poem: My First Day out of Hell

Drag my way

Through the tunnel among the Brimstone,

I step out,

Shirt ironed by by molten Iron,

Shoes shined by the Shining.

Redrum.

I strolled among the mortals

I was looking for a Soul to steal.

I'm always willing to go along for I was willin' to make a deal.

To what I learned that fateful day though soon the world would pay.

The air was worse than back in the day, and if you were there

the noisy people screaming 'round and shouting swears.

Misery dragged as people went to work

Driving honking and rip-offs galore.

Not much gore, but something worse.

Charlie Sheen bumped into me and soon I felt unclean.

Mankind seems to be driven through what they all say the gutter.

I shutter at what will happen next.

From what I had to say,

I say

Wake me up when the World grows apair

Poem: A Sorcerer's Sick Idea of Fun

To the tomes of many days,

As we toy with that could eat us away.

To have fun with the sparks to the flying way of juggling the idea of the mind and what illegal to that of nature.

Despite the sins of the public's sense of true judgement.

What does it matter?

Lets have fun.

What kind of magic spell to use?

Slime and Snails?

Or Puppy dog tails?

Thunder or Lightning?

Some say frightening.

To the pulled strings of the mind.

Pinocchio skips in your body.

Evil Strings to hold you up.

What concoction to enact.

Poisons to acids.

Love potion Six.

Hate extent Seven.

Eighth time the charm.

Nine levels hell.

From who we can tell,

by very thin ice,

Thrice the times to study the years away.

What is it all for?

Stones of Flemel.

Jack of Diamonds.

Queen of Hearts.

Hearts were played around like toys.

Toys break easily.

Who cares?

Poem: The Leprechaun

There once was an Elf from Ireland,

Who had the Wit and Charm of 10 men.

It has been told,

When he lost his Gold,

The Gold was his only friend.

Leprechaun by ~tear-house

Poem: Infectious Routine

I wake up in a Summer morning.

Cars can be just so cozy.

Engines loring,

As my brothers and sisters have gone without me.

I saw three.

I was so hungry.

I got a hold of my breakfast.

The noise of the crowd was enough to make my ears bleed.

To late.

By fate,

To an everyday happenins,

I went by noon on my evening jog,

Through my half-hair went the winds,

Through the fog

Of a hazy rainy day.

My Brothers,

My Sisters,

I myself chase after dinner.

Dinner's fast in a moving truck.

Growing thinner and thinner in hunger.

Hunger is what drives me and my friends.

All we want is flesh.

Sweet blood.

Crisp bones.

Streets flood,

With creatures of rotting beauty.

My family.

The Apocalypse is such a stormy time of the left of time.

I wake up in a Summer Morning.

Just another Summer Morning.

zombies by ~AkureiTsume

Poem: Plague in an Alleyway

In a small Victorian Town

In the midst of a gloomy afternoon,

A Suave man is on his way to propose to his young sweetheart.

Sweet Elizabeth.

No one would know he won't make it back to her.

He walks to her home, as he sees the civilians in misery.

He try to ignore them.

Its pretty hard to when one follows you.

Their skin white at bones.

Their eyes black as a heart attack.

Charming right?

They plead for help, but running is the only option.

As he walks off, he knows he is followed, but he try's to ignore it.

Footsteps follow.

He starts to run.

Footsteps follow.

He sprints to an alley.

Footsteps still follow.

He is cornered.

Unfortunate for him.

In the shadows, he can see a tall and suave figure.

Cane in one hand.

Top hat on his head.

Long furled hair.

Smell of Flowers.

As the Figure steps forward

What we thought was a suave figure

Was a Rotting Corpse.

Dressed in a Bleach white suit.

Holding a dried snake in one hand.

Wearing a White top hat filled with rats.

Long white unwashed hair, riddled with spiders.

Smell of Death and Fear.

As the figure of Death closed in,

Our poor man screaming.

Our poor man has succumbed to a condition we all know to well.

Death itself.

Poem: Ode to Tortures and etc.

People who Die

Souls will Fly

I will Deny

Thats souls Exist.

If you try

I think we will See

If thee will See

The Heads Roll

The Limbs Fly

All around.

The Ballot begins

As we see

Behind the Shimmers

And the Lights.

What's behind the Smoke and Glass?

At last. The Ballot has begun.

Guillotines Rise and Fall,

Firing Squads kills us all,

Lethal Injections Poison us bad,

Gas Tanks a tad drab

As our lungs fill with Mustard Gas.

Necks break by the noose,

Lungs Ache when we drown,

Eaten Alive when rats are Loose,

and Buried Alive, safe and sound,

as body-sacks and chains bound us Down

On the Ground.

Blood Poisons soil and wounds History into a moaning fashion.

Humans have come to love this style of life.

Some say I'm Misanthropic.

I would prefer Lycanthropic.

At least they are more evolved that actual Humans.

Lycan's hunt for a purpose more meaningful.

Lycan's eat what they hunt.

Humans hunt to hunt what's left.

Right?

Of course.

Hence Forth.

Makes my skin crawl,

and I love it.

Poem: The Plutonian Shore

There are only two people around the world.

Those in the Realm of Light and Dark.

Those who bath into the realm of light.

They lift there glass of wine,

as they dine,

and whine at the screams and moans

of those who squirm in agony

as they wander in tragedy

into the journey as they embark

into the dark.

The Dark is a dismal and yet moist world.

The Seven Sins,

even some who will win the ranks

along the River Styx' Banks.

The Plutonian Shore,

The Broken Glass Mountains,

and Demon-faced Fountains along the Plutonian Shore.

It plucked my lost Lenore

off of the Black-Velvet Sand,

or Powdered Darkness,

along the Blue Paint Waters.

Bones litter the land,

along the Black-velvet Sand,

or Powdered Darkness,

or as far as

I can see

All along the Plutonian Shore.

Angels can be seen at a distance along the Glass Mountains,

Bound by a Silver Umbilicus,

Anchored to the Blue-Violet Ocean by their own Anguish.

Nothing like Fallen Angels weeping along

The Plutonian Shore.

Nothing Like bleeding eyes

as a hellish surprised.

The Devil won a Prize.

The Bleeding Eyes of Angel's scorn

On the Plutonian Shore.

Poem: Inferno of Dante

In with fires conquer the vanished rain,

So creates the first and only purgatory to be made without made use

Of Steel and Iron by the hands of Man.

The hands of Man without the use of

Supplies.

Supplies produce the Mechanical Lullaby of rest.

Pain is half-way against the Law of Man.

The very ones who take their freedom

Gives salvation

From those of the same soul as yours,

Possibly worse.

The natural Purgatory

Is not forged of Steel and Metal of the

Frail push of Man,

But Stone and that which Gleams from Core's bounty,

By the Destructive Force of the Living Hand of Power.

Fire.

Gleaming like an Angel's Light,

Merciless as Fate can ever get.

Used by the Evils of Man, Beast

And Fiend alike.

By the Layers of this Personify Prison,

Those who turn there backs to God pay in a barren realm.

Those that Lust for Blood and Flesh be condemned in the eternal Storm of the Sea.

The that feast upon that which they indulge, now wallow in it in descrace.

The Greedy must hoard that which they have come to obsess.

The Anger that consumes must swim the Styx,

they will never stop.

The Styx takes those who sleep through the race

(It isn't wise to turn your back at your Punishment).

A stadium built by the

Hateful,

Suicidal,

And the Violent.

They set there fate.

They dug their graves,

And now they must rest in it.

Forever.

Those who live as the forgotten sins ponder symbolically

In the wounds that refuse to leave them be.

Seducers,

Sorcerers,

Barrators,

The Hypocritical,

They are all the same by some means,

By some link in a Chain.

At the Center of this Prison of Obsidian and Blood.

The end of the line show a Lake of Frozen Water.

People are seen,

Frozen in a conceouse state,

Recalling the things that they have done,

That they have regret,

That sentenced them to the pain that they have earned spiritually.

And at the deep end,

Frozen as if a punishment has befallen him.

God has raised his hand above his form.

The Devil is not the Warden.

He is a prisoner among us.

Screaming.

Gusting his Wings with a frenzy,

The Shining Demon that he is,

Has become.

From Hell to back.

All the pain,

Anguish,

Hate,

Evil,

The very components that make up the

Human Soul.

God is more Merciful than this.