GOTHIC POISONUpon clandestine fires of a midnight sky
the world of forbidding awaits the dead
We chant for our blood in Winter fields
In the feasts of the burning, I will be fed
As carmine-lovers bewail upon dark rivers
the sojourn of thorns breathes in your soul
Covet my love in the eclipse of sangomancy
in cursed lullabies you will ache to be whole
Voiceless echoes rasp over stony graves,
drifting in the requiem of a dethroned sky
If you weep thy bloodlust upon my shadow,
I will drink every solemn tear that you cry
Silence broods in the dreary mists of forever;
in courtyards and demon portraits that seek
Within gardens covered in moss and decay,
the song of gothic poison will take the weak
Spirits of the dead linger in broken twilight
The winds of Samhain rush through my veins
Griffins take flight in acid-shot dreamscapes
I will take you into the realm of scarlet rains
Ebon roses bloom upon spires of melancholy;
the legacy of sorrow will become our haven
Stagnant clouds liquefy over cobble pat
Night of the ViolinSeek you me in a grave shallow,Night of the Violin3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
bleeding upon a blade of rusted steel
The mood of a rose ascends beyond ether
caressing souls in skies hoary
From the pitch of solitude she appears,
dark hair soaking upon winds quiver
(violin weeping in the dew of nocturnal sunrise)
As the moon whispers in twilight's fall
my thoughts swirl into a halo of numb reverie
Entranced in the gloaming of her love
dripping within the lotus of her serenade
Beset in eyes of jade,
drowning in sensual delight
Seduced in a gothic sky
Deepest gaze unleashed into my soul;
she weaves a spell of turquoise feather
her violin brushes my skin in dreamy hues
Evanescent in spectral shards of solemn rains
my thoughts swoon in burning juniper
Servant to the epitome of her will
basking in the shadows of her mind
kissed in the aura of sweet sorrow;
untold love begins to flow
Embroidered in the ballet of night's fall
violins seethe in star-clustered valleys
like a burning choir of lonely spirits
My thirst blushes in a sea
THE CROWGlistening feathers,THE CROW3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Blacker than the darkest night
A specter weaving through the clouds
Majestic is his flight
Piercing eyes reach into my soul
From the netherworld he will come
When I am no longer whole
Spawned from the magick of old
In a lingering mist he waits
Cast in velvet shadows so cold
Roses fall upon my grave
Talons clasp my fading spirit
A fallen love will he save
Shrieks echo across a leaden sky
Life descends to the arms of death
Scarlet tears begin to fly
Memories my heart cannot sever
Broken dreams whisper —
real love is forever
— Arthur Crow © 2012
Where the Crows BleedSilhouettes of scarlet whisperWhere the Crows Bleed3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
among the bones..
Forsaken beneath earth and stone, I am
bejeweled in the River's dread
Trees clad in sanguine
salivate in the abyss of sorrow
The perfume of blood seduces the sky
incantations of the netherworld
Ebon ghosts shimmer in falling ash,
where love decays evermore
I undress in the lust of darkness; my soul
bequeathed to oblivion seeds the wind
with poisoned tongue flickering
Upon banks of obsidian I gaze
haunted in a tempest of necromancy
I render my ache in shadow-fire,
deep in the dark flow
Behold! The River Acheron!
In the syrup of dreams
crimson fields burn in my eye
Bleeding in the silence of dark ether,
I seek your lips..
The song of afterlife covets our love
Kisses blush upon a blade of rusted steel
Corvid screams bathe in Death's lullaby
Vistas of requiem caress our flesh,
as the River seethes deep in my veins
Unto my brethren do I bask
among black wings wicked n' dreary
Like pitch cast over hallowed waters,
The GloamingThe forest beckons in cold reverie;The Gloaming3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the gloom he lingers
Betwixt life and death, mine eye seeds..
Black envy embraced by two sisters on a distant isle
seeking to be more beautiful than days before
They will soon adorn the dark jewels of Hades garden,
and the exodus of a timeless fable will be the lore
Their beauty flows from the harbor of an endless well
Witches of dread 'n passion entombed in livid fire
When hordes of dry winds resonate over icy rivers,
the song of autumn-sacrifice will envelop their desire
Unto their inner sanctum did once a Prince quest
The sojourn of a kiss befalls in meadows of despair
Streaks of blood stain creeks and mountains vast;
such is the death of a man two sisters could not share
Lost to an unyielding dreamscape of dark green
The sisters meander through ambient fields of decay
Molten shadows will haunt the nectar of their souls
until the shrine of their mortal love withers away
They are drawn evermore by the call of arcane spirits
My Eternal BelovedIncessant screams echo across weeping gravesMy Eternal Beloved3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
On the winds of destiny you shall hear my call
The voice of suffering will caress your spirit,
and into my darkest nightmare, you will fall
Lush is the poison that runs beneath my skin
Your death I will sow, your blood I shall reap
My dark thoughts swoon into a song of decay
In the pitch of iniquity you will gently sleep
I will awaken upon a lattice of bloody shards,
and harvest the resonance of your eternal cries
In a field of black roses you will find my soul,
together we shall walk through bleeding skies
I stand before you in the harbor of madness,
shimmering like a dry beacon of waiting death
Drink from the burning rivers of sinful torrents,
weep in the fiend lucidity of my aching breath
Our charred tears will dance in morbid splendor
Take rest in the crucified symmetry of my desire
Seething melancholy ebbs into your sullen veins,
like a host of livid thorns lavished in black fire
As my emptiness lingers in the arms of misery,
The FallingThe FallingThe Falling3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Upon malodorous rapture of orphaned darkness,
eternal melancholy becomes twisted and hollow
In the severed reflections of sanguine shadows,
we will drown in ruby tears of pain and sorrow
Whispers of odium seep gently into my dreams...
The Raven lingers in solemn clouds dark as coal
My blood surges like a chorus of bitter requiem
And my lips the anathema of your dying soul
Dark lust hums like a cold tide of weeping voices
Perfumed in ash & bone, hallucinations imbue
Blood soaked robes hang from my slender bride,
shimmering like scarlet threads under ebon skies
After sable petals fall upon my beloved's grave,
there will dwell but ravaged winds of lonely cries
O' Witch of mine, dark'n dreary, forsake me not
In a sombre kiss, veiled in falls of ambient pitch,
we drift into the renaissance of the Falling...
ever dreaming and bathing in the poetry of death
In the web of mortality demons haunt & undress,
Deep in the gloaming, I beseech thy last breath
My thirst seeth
Silver ThornSullen clouds of melancholy,Silver Thorn3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
drift across the dawn of a barren land
A small cross falls from her slender grip
its image embedded into her hand
Howling winds of cruel symphony,
seep gently into her sleeping mind
Dried tears lay draped over stone
Solemn fields of crimson she will find
Incessant dreams of hoary mists,
plague her innocence young and pure
Drops of light graze her frail skin
Undying anguish she cannot endure
From a sunken pool of mercury,
a false savior rises before her eyes
Like a shining wraith waiting in the sand,
ready to embrace her harrowing cries
On a ghostly path she stands alone
A sea of debris stretches far and long
Her will to live slowly fades away
lulled by the resonance of deaths song
Her carriage to emptiness lingers,
like a silhouette in silent wait
Whimpering in numb solitude,
drenched in the nectar of her fate
Glittering blade humming so sweetly
awaiting her beautiful screams
Motionless over a bloodied scabbard
Impaled by her darkest dreams
SUPERNATURALDeep unto the mist of ages, spirits jewel worlds forsakenSUPERNATURAL3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A slither of fire dawns the ethos of my dreams
for the temptress seeds wind and sea with ancient song
Emerald streams flow thru forests of exile...
Beyond the veil of time, the ravens fly dark n' long
The flesh of trees weep to rise of ebon Moon
Nocturnal rapture, seek I with whispered lust
Under wanton falls of twilight I hath bled upon magick vine
Beneath midnight tides the Fae stir,
somewhere in the other world, my flesh becomes her wine
~Arthur Crow © 2012
obscene gamethe place is filthyobscene game3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
her naked body is cold
her hands are bound with barbed wire
each movement pushes
the barbed wire in her skin
her blood flows on her breasts
the pain is unbearable
this game is very hard
his phantasm is indecent
This love is an torture
however, she loves this weird man
who sometimes drinks her blood
when this obscene game is finished
A Different PerspectiveI ask you how a knife feels as it digs into a man's heart.A Different Perspective3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Does it shy away from the pain it inflicts,
is it sickened by the sight of the blood?
Or does it long to sink deep into his chest,
down to the bone handled grip?
(You reply that it doesn't feel either way,
whether a knife wants it or not a man dies today.)
I ask you if your shoe is tired, for its growing old.
Does the pain of being crushed by your feet
take rest and resonate deep in its sole?
Or does it love the honor of being used by you,
and willing to keep making your footprints.
(You say it's meant to be stepped on, it's a shoe
it doesn't have feelings like me or you)
I ask you how your pillow feels this morning.
Is it tired because you kept it up with your nightmares,
your endless tossing and turning.
Or does it feel loved as you grip it tight
and hug it deep into the middle of the night.
(You tell me your pillow is doing okay
but it's only a pillow so it doesn't matter anyway.)
I ask you if a judge's hammer regrets what i
Night Never EndsNight never ends here -Night Never Ends3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the thin blue line
a stranger packs in his bags
before losing his mind;
the scratch behind our eyes
that keeps us moving
down the highway.
It is a jail cell at three a.m.,
the warden playing cards,
whiskey wetting his dreams
where a spark lays waste
to a family left behind;
the backlight of a slum,
a thousand rooms of winter
and water leaking in a lightbulb
over your head.
It is midnight in a foxhole,
the strafe of friendly fire
like a flashlight to beat
into watching for a sign;
the last drink festering on formica
six inches of crushed tafetta
wearing out its welcome
on a barstool called home.
It is dawn in the mortuary
last night's pickings
carved up for christmas
special delivery to no one
who will care;
and the silent mourning bedlam
left thinking on the drainboard
carted out for the trashmen
to haul away
MalingerWhy must you malinger here,Malinger3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hovering over the bed -
your scent a frail and rattled haunt?
Did I conjure you -
give form and shape,
fashion skin and hair
upon the bed rails
that press my back
like a missing child?
I feel you move everywhere -
in the turn of a book's page,
chafing my fingertip;
the lifting of a glass,
its cool weight
changing the roads on my palm
into a lost decade;
and in the stir of leaves
that wander across the lonely patio
only to to be lost again
in the day's bleak rustle.
I can almost make out your eyes
in every mirror
and the dull polish of the worn desk
you used to sit at
when dusk begged
for your attention.
And the pressure of your fingers
still stains my collar,
their touch a grey wish
lurking in the gallows of my face
where the light no longer goes
and nothing dares
ApartmentFrom upstairsApartment3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she heard late afternoon
sucker punch the television
as the children
covered the coffee table
and felt the dust mop
weep in her hands
at the sight.
She found the cat
under a pile of laundry,
swallowing a sock
and wondered why
bedtime took so long
to come around.
was her only accomplice
in the simple murder
of this life -
buffering the weather in the kitchen
and choking the beds
like those last thoughts
left deep in the dustbin.
Milk CartonThey found youMilk Carton3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on a milk carton,
a stone's throw
from the tarp left
mildewing on the pool.
Your face was sleepy
and they did not recognize
Who dressed you that morning?
Who gently combed out your hair
and zipped up
your yellow boots
so you could squash puddles
in the garden?
Mother will tell stories
to the empty bed
and pretend it is your shadow
playing on the wall
And father will wait
on the porch,
praying the light
will come back to the sky.
IsaacI saw your faceIsaac3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the post office
It was one of those
eight by elevens
with black lettering,
It was an old picture
as if your chin
had not grown up yet
and your hair
framed your cheeks
as if to say
I, too, am a visitor.
They spelled your name wrong -
there are two A's in Isaac
and you looked
like you had been caught
wearing someone else's skin -
the scar at your temple
was a faded moon,
crescent and grey at the corner
and I could tell
you had not slept
The Obscene Philosophy of Not Giving a Fuck .Steal a kiss, plant a seedThe Obscene Philosophy of Not Giving a Fuck .3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
deep into asphalt.
My skin is soft, my heart a rock,
its beat even and bold.
It was once cracked and crushed to sand
falling from his hand.
But it found light and will and spite
in rock it learned to mend.
Black veils fell, true colors showed,
we're nothing but obscene.
I was a fool, there is no love
to feel at age of teen.
So steal a kiss, take something else,
I've lost it all before
he lied through teeth when he held me-
the woman he adored.
I love myself and only me,
won't share it with a boy.
I'm better off with friendly flings,
a lover - merely toy.
BreathlessBreathless,Breathless3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
meek as milk,
her sex sits
at the man
in the blue flannel suit.
His hat watches her
to go shopping
or shooting birds
off the chimneys.
Why does nothing taste good,
and why do friends
He ponders her earrings
and pours coffee
into the sink,
thinking his wife
should know better by now
and dreaming of
how a woman's bare back
like a camera.
MonsoonMonsoon season -Monsoon3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the wind forgets
the shape of this land
and how the world spins,
paled with longing
to be still.
Air hung out to dry like laundry
we forgot and
the brisk taste
pooling in the fields.
The windows are drowning,
wanting only to sleep
as we watch
that tether to the sky
loosening the birds
and the tree tops
against the clouds
until it is thick
and the wet grows
like a mountain
pulling up its roots
Tides of Earth and SkyTides of Earth and Sky3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the ache of soul carried the torch of dreams into the sky
Upon scent of mortal thirst destiny whispered in myriad
rapture of folding tides..
Lo the mythic shore, where I — a phantasm of love bleeds
into the ether of velvet sky & ocean hymn...
Lost in the wine of omni-dreaming, for our passion tis but
the humble audience of eternity
In jeweled horizons the Goddess feasts; her gaze I cannot flee
I have crossed oceans of time & drank the song of worlds
My spirit forever slain in the beauty of her immortal sea
— Arthur Crow © 2012
StonesThese stones, once enchanted, now leave no traceStones4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
of a distant magic in a foreign tongue -
just dream-prints left to carve this place.
A stranger breed has now begun
and left its tracks amidst this space,
the souls left blinking without a sun.
History spared time's rude grace.
We leave our prayers among the bones.
Bittersweet and green,
simple in its mien,
Potent bloom and sheen,
pressed on lips so clean,
Poison felt so keen
hangs her life between.
Now let winter's spell
seek out the newly hung moon
and transform the sky.
Blood CrusadeBlood Crusade:Blood Crusade3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
They rode upon the backs of thundering horses
for faith had unleashed a terrible beast
These men would offer their souls in service
to the dark unholy priests...
"To what end do we serve our Lord and Master
is justice not the ultimate form of faith?
Should we not stand and fight in his name
to cleanse the Earth of this heathen waste!"
It was these orators, chaplains of faith;
men of the cloth who bore a fire
They lit their brothers with impassioned speeches
fueled by their own desire...
They taught their followers that blood was faith
and devotion was found at the edge of a blade
"Blessed is the mind too small for doubt
for the faithful shall never be swayed..."
The men who accepted them, though pure at heart
would soon be eaten by Lust and Greed
For Wrath had become a norm of existence
and death became a Templar's creed...
But woe betide the man who slaughters
for his soul shall be forever stained
And no penance may ever remove this grief;
I can(not) forgive youI can forgive you for leavingI can(not) forgive you3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But not for coming back
I can forgive you for not loving me
But not for pretending to
I can forgive you for lying to me
But not for lying to yourself
I can forgive you for saying you love me
But not for leaving me the next day
I can forgive you for dashing me to the ground
But not for still leaving a little hope
I can forgive you for breaking my heart
But not for three times
The truth is I wish I could
But I cannot forgive you at all.
(And neither I forgive myself.)
In PiecesThey sent him home in pieces -In Pieces3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
heart in a box;
bladder and spleen disinfected,
wrapped up like a birthday.
His legs followed suit,
each one mended
and folded like an accordion -
toes tightly shut,
and knees zipped.
Next came his arms,
two delinquent acrobats -
first the right one
tightly sleeved and fitted,
waving like the last night
of the circus;
then the left -
its listless shrug
shriveled under the tissue paper.
His torso followed discreetly
as if wondering
where everybody went
and who would still be up
at this hour.
His head came last -
crated like apples at Christmas;
his eyebrows permanently surprised
upon his forehead
and his tongue
a final, flat declaration