Poem – “The Dissertation of an Enemy” – Romantic/Sadism

How salvation has arisen,
Above and beneath the consequence,
Where thee was born,
Before Satan’s altar.

You destroyed light-years of work
For the sake of a friendship.
For the sake of a pitiful message,
You broke ties with a God.

I am a life well-broken,
Deceived, and hand-made,
By the artisans of Heaven,
And your death means nothing.

You hail nothingness,
In each shivering limb that extends,
From your empty form.
A love and a woman; you are holy.

You had an aura,
A well-conceived aura of disuse,
And once held a message of broken verse,
Held it upon your breast, to say,
“Thus, the maker of me,
Has no longer eyes to see.”

I mean no harm by what I say,
Though, the notion to your beauty has voided
Itself, from the distance of my love.
Beneath God’s light, I cannot see upwards.

When Atheism dawned,
Through the petals of Heaven’s meadows,
There were thorns from Hell’s rifts,
And the portals spewed demons.
They cried, “Whenever will we arrive,
To see what has maddened us?”

A message, a god, and a woman,
Made fathomable by love and blood.
Where was God, in this moment?
When beauty felled like the cross?

Poem – “My Love, Let Me Breathe” – Romance

Wherefore do we speak, when in an embrace,
From words that ripple through our forms?
Entwined, we dance between velvet stars,
Entangled, we have mourned in past memories.
I am your child, and I am puny.
You are my beloved, and I am in you.

Sheets surround us,
A rope is at our feet.
A love has groped us,
A love that set us free.

Are we in love, in this heat?
In this Hell, are we in love?
But, you are as beautiful as every dreaming night,
When in the haze of rising love.
A puddle now forms a color upon these sheets,
Something has leaked.

Romance, and petulance, made a form.
A love, we have grown, up to see a moon.
You have a body that would baffle,
The highest angels,
And all the gods would marvel at thy radiant face,
For it is better than the purest silk, or softest gold.

A breast that moves, like two ships upon water,
They roar a lapping on the heavy waves.
I am in love.
Yes! I am in love,
With a woman who is she,
The many gestures that I have freed.

Though, are you in love?
Have you found love in our heat?
I have struck a heart,
But have I played even a single note?

Poem – “I am Man, who Carries each Ache” – Romance

Bide thy time,
For the most worrisome.
For I am here to console
And triumph
Over thy descending tears,
And over thy frozen heart.

Do you believe such a burden belongs
Mainly with you?
Allow me to take it,
And to hold it.
I wish to see it,
And to study it.

I am here,
To bide thy time,
For the most worrisome
Of travails.
You hold a face that darkens itself
Beneath a pallid moon.

Do not, and I repeat,
Do not speak such words,
That erode thy exterior into nameless,
For I had abandoned my pride
For the sake of loyalty.
I have made you mine.

Before an altar dressed in wisps and shades,
I discovered a tear,
That faltered to give way
And make its way
To your pale chin.
You spoke a few idle words, “Let me go.”

No more tears,
And no more sorrow.
Your idleness screams
Out to shores, upon the highest peninsula.
Leave those tears to me,
The pain to me.

I speak words that you may comprehend,
“I held enjoyment as long as I could,
And I will hold it some more.
For I am here to bide thy time
For the most worrisome
Travails, and hold thy life in my palm.”

Poem – “The Faceless Serenade” – Romance

You walk in frailty’s shadow,
Showing romance in each marvelous step.
Dipping a foot into a milky row,
Of evermore marvelous pain.

What is this fear, in which I feel
For the first moment upon thy naked form?
When you sing such soft notes,
To recede back into the notes of a whimper,
I am here to console,
For that which I stole.

You leak white from the pink of thy cheeks,
Down unto my own feet,
That had plodded a course in tragedy.
I have made echoes with each faltering step.
It is because I feel a chorus
That leaps into my chest.

All notes, a score that is emotionless,
Instruments that give no life,
And eyes from a woman who has
Only the need to offer death.

Is such your becoming comfort?
And the notes of melancholy that are not
My own becoming?
I might not ever raise myself from
This faltering where I descend.
You have beauty that I cannot mold.

Each path has made a burning before me,
A burning, and a path behind that is no longer true.
I cannot see behind to the faces of yesterday.
For you are there to hear me say,
“I am nothing without the faceless serenade,
And the music that speaks volumes of empty pages.”

Where are the lights to our decay?
Where is the place for us to stay?

Poem – “Father, Have You Lifted?” – Father’s Day

Father, have you lifted,
Away from the pain I now share,
With a world so very bare?

It is because I have done as you asked,
And cared for another among a division
Of untimely selfishness.

Is it wrong to despise someone,
Who loves only themselves?
This world has no promise of love.

And yet, I make what I can
From the smooth ashes that cake my ankles,
And the fires, I make for warmth, as bodies burn.

Ashes that fell, and ashes you breathed,
As towers fell and towers leave.
They were once tall, and now, they are up to me.

I am in love,
With a dashing extravagance,
Because I have no more guidance.

There is only the music, of remembrance,
That makes me breath a fragrance,
One that is soft and represents a cushion.

One that is a cushion and shows the skin,
Of those in need.
Their blood raises upwards, and I see.

I see a world without the shame,
Of people who ignore shame,
Of people intolerant of shame.

I see a world unlike you or me,
I see, and only see, the madness of those without a clue,
To be able to differ the old from the new.

There is so much beauty left forgotten,
So much truth unprotected by the dome of love.
That when I see you, I begin to see me.

I see the fires and the waves on the shoreline,
And I don’t see myself as needing,
Other than the occasional sentiment of gratitude,
Like you, as humble, in the efforts towards safety.

Poem – “Have We?” Romance

Have we expended our future,
Unto the stars?
Have we made ourselves saviors,
With mercy to our belonging?

I sit as a witness to your artful form
That shows shimmers upon a velvet torso.
You have made a God whimper before you.
He was me, the man to whom loves you.

I sit beside you at the elongated table,
And view your beauty in all colors.
You have eyes that show sparkles in blue,
And cheeks that have the deepest hues.

There are reds, in those cheeks,
There is a blue, in those eyes.
You have a face, that has been swollen from kisses,
I have made a mark, through the fame of you.

I am a father, to you, as my child.
So beautiful, with shades of black upon white,
You are desirous, though retain all urges,
To be upon the white, but remain in darkness.

Have we expended those stars,
That are above us in the clearest blue?
Will our kisses at once be shared,
So deep to reach the ocean’s bottom?

I had once made a child who knew to see,
The crystal, the caves, and the ebony.

Poem – “Take Me Down” – Romance

How has it that suffering has placed a crown,
On this starved mind, enclosed in a shell?
When I saw a face, that was yours,
I drew weariness away from that mind,
And the gems grew a brilliant luster.

Am I not the pain that lingers,
Upon your reddened lips?
Am I not the darkness that incurs,
Due to the flowers that die at every step?
I am, for this is when we have united.

I am the sight that you have seen,
Whilst drinking the perfumed wine.
I am the red on your mouth,
The gleam on thy arms,
And the enemy who never allows for innocence to return.

As such becomes an emotion,
Monochrome and melancholy.
I look to clouds so full of grey,
And find my kind, alike to you, among the shapes,
That fall and climb, and soon to climb upwards, again.

I beg you to take me down from this weariness,
To where there are demons that writhe,
So that I may belong to them.
And so that I may cling to thy knees.
For I am nothing more than a broken felon.

Poem – “Upon the Bed, I’ll Lay Thee” – Romance

Your growing fragrance,
Matches this room and its aromatic candles.
And I have found it upon myself
With my hands to claw at the flesh of thee,
To tear and yank the burden of attire I see,
To match the nakedness to the maker of me,
Who is a demon that I cannot let flee.
You have sweat glistening upon an arm,
And a face that whimpers beneath the soaring skies.

When I choose to love, I live as the beast,
To devour the wholeness of your making.

When did you last submit?
Where will you see yourself in coming years?
Above the sands of shores where shades dance on a form,
That has never been nude.

I shall lay you upon a bed,
For myself to see,
And to glimpse a moving breast,
And two legs like the purest white from birch.

When I’ll make you mine,
I’ll differ nectar from wine,
And make the world find me tiresome.

When will I grow intolerant?

Poem – “The Beloved Woman’s Patience” – Romance

As I look upwards from this stance,
I see where my hands have laid.
Themselves, as palms, upon thy bare shoulders.
Shoulders, always bare, and made from ivory.

I have been the admirer to your form.
A form with curves alike to the Earth.
When I’ve seen the horizon,
What more to witness than to be blinded, by thee?

And I am below, at thy feet,
Martyred by love, to what I’ve worshiped,
I have place a circle of gold on thy finger,
Slender and smooth by the possession of youth.

As I peer upwards,
To see the bluest gaze and pearly smile,
Of two lips that are glazed by a merry pinkness.
I see all the happiness I’ve formed.

For two shoulders to which I’ve laid my hand,
To offer comfort, or so that you’ll weep.
I am for beauty and its shielding.
You are in love with bliss and its making.

Where are we on this earth,
And where do we travel?
What have we to do with the world’s suffering,
Else to see that which has made us?

I have formed the deserts upon thy abdomen,
And the ocean of milk on thy cheeks.

I have grown impatient to my own testing of it.
Though, you’ll live as happily as the next bird.

Poem – “Unable to Wish” – Romance

We are unable to wish,
For the pain to end itself,
Due to how our desires bend
With one another on this frail soil.
We are united in death,
And divided in love.

A pitiful little beauty you once were
To me and the seas.
Waters poured from your eyes,
Like frail rivers of ice.
And I kissed each tear that strayed
From its trail.

I was once in love,
With a woman who resembled my birth.
She had always called to me,
In an effort to elapse such pain.
She said, “Where do you hail from,
Other than a womb of mine?”

Indeed, a mother she was,
To perhaps another child,
An alien one, and not the one who I am.
A beauty, that she is, though of nothing more,
For she is a woman of seeming emptiness,
And I have left the nest for her to see me gone.

Where, in this setting of tragedy
Are you to find grace upon those frail shoulders?

Where, in this funeral of remembrance
Are you to see with one eye only upon the future?

When I love, it is with turmoil.
When I love, it is with disease.
When I despise, I despise with a shaking
To these limbs,
And to my lying tongue.
I had loved a woman who no more finds sadness in herself.

It had been so, like the green of trees,
Or the blue of lakes,
Or even the yellow among every dandelion,
That decorates the meadows.
She sees only the external, and never the one,
Who she found to be a child, and never a husband.

Poem – “We’ll Not Die with our Love Apart” – Romance

Should the world end, with us not unified,
We’ll have the ocean to cross, and then we’ll die.
You have beauty that marvels the angels.
Of cheeks that blossom the rosiest pink,
And such beauty creates strength
In my darkened heart.

I will love with a powerful love,
End all demons that torment you into woe,
You have arms that claw at the most bitter parts
Of this angered mind.
I am enraged at those who create obstacles,
Between the love, that is for us.

When will I have to suffer no longer,
To merely see your smiling eyes, that speak more
Than either your hands or mouth?
A beauty with trembling limbs and idle words,
That speak frailty.
That speak of loneliness.

I shall have thee without the torment that lingers
Upon thy buried heart.
Between ribs made of Adam’s dust and Lilith’s tears.
Torn with woe and the endlessness
Of the subservient pain.
Let the world tremble, and not thy bared arms!

To see our love with blindness,
And how radiant thee will roam upon the rock.
I will cover thou with a bliss,
And make thee a coat formed with a stagnant love,
Deserving its stagnancy through a vision,
Of a grave that cannot be of only one.

Poem – “A Few Loosened Sobs” – Romance

Oh, lovely! I am rotten,
With grief tangled in my hair.
Beside your stilled corpse,
Where I stare,
Is a seat to place myself.

I have been weary
And torn.
Broken and born, with a seeming frailness,
“Emptiness” is my name
Written backwards.

I loved with a stain on my heart.
And it was you,
Who pressed that mark
Against its warm and hot surface.
Why am I in love with grief?

Why am I in love with tragedy?
The futility, of it all?
Is there no more to us,
Than for me to see yourself,
As a withered pile of limbs, and feel the numbness?

I am so alone,
Now that you are gone.
I feel grief like it’s my friend,
As I have lost a love, whose rays were once
Alike to the moon, and its silver threads.

Beauty was to your face,
With the many hues of red.
And now, there is only the stark hue of white.
There is no longer any color
To mask this certain death.

I walk now to the noose,
To see if any tears are left to lose.