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CroaTard dans la nuit
Je marchai seul dans une rue
réfléchissant sur la raison pour laquelle
j'étais devenu «invisible» au monde.
"Croa" - dit le corbeau sur la branche.
"En quoi?" - Je demandai.
Juste un autre "croa" venait en retour.
Je continuai à marcher,
pensant que j'étais stupide
a parler avec un corbeau.
"À la vie apres la mort" -
dit le corbeau, et rien de plus.
«Absurde!" - Je criai,
traversant le corps d'un passant
qui marcha vers moi sans me voir.
the Hat of CrowsAnd I would like to walk
with my hat made of crows
touching it now and then
leaving sometimes a feather fall
like a leaf from an autumn tree
bringing with it a dark memory
A kind person would collect it from the path
running towards me to give it back
but I would be too far and the feather
well it would be too black
The kind person would go home with that quill
leaving it on the desk,watching it still
but when unwatched it would start to write
a sad dark poem I composed the previous night
A sad dark poem with the person's name
A sad dark poem with no author to blame.
Relativity of TimeThe sound of raindrops knocking at the window glass
mimic the chimes of the clock on the mantelpiece
but twice as fast.
What does the Heaven want to tell me?
The sound of your tears dropping amortized by the pillow
mimic the beats of my heart when I see them
but twice as slow.
What does the Soul want to tell me?
20th century box"I am thirsty "- the son said -
"I would like to quench your thirst with water "-
answered his dad-
"but bad men have taken it all
and the Well is empty as my soul...
like my eyes since your mother is gone
so my dear,I neither can offer you a tear
nor anything at all..."
a pale ChildA pale child ran beside the right shore
seduced by the stream of the river
until he lost the way home
and down his spine slithered a cold shiver
but it was too late,too late for all
no place was familiar beyond the dam of the beaver.
They found his body lying,still warm,
in the clearing where the fairies had stolen his liver.
the metal BowlWhen he opened the cellar door the first thing I could see was the metal bowl on the floor in the middle of the room, then something came to me growling.
At the beginning I tought it to be a dog, a strange and dirty dog, but when Don Juan calmed him with a kick I could take a better look: he was a child, dirty and with some deformity, but surely a child not older than 14. Don Juan asked me to excuse Afortunado (this was the name of the child), for is bad behaviour, but he was the guardian of storage and was too stupid to distinguish friends and enemies, so in the doubt he simply attached everyone but Don Juan.
My mind was shocked and my senses muffled, so I took some minute before I could realize that the monstruous screams around me came from the cellar and not my imagination. Then I took a look around me and what I saw will accompany me as long as I live: small cages on every side, one on the other, side by side, every one filled with a child or a baby.
I was about to faint, bu
Marihell's SecretThe sky was in flames that afternoon, the sun infact seemd reluctant to let the spirits of the darkness drag it to his bed, maybe because of the delicate landscape of the newborn spring. Stevil came to talk to me while I still was lost into the strange form of the clouds... leaving my rich imagination depict in my mind visions of fairies riding them. But Stevil was late: he had to partecipate to an important event. Even if his important events usually were not so important at my dreaming eyes... well, there is no reason to think about that now. The most important thing was that a girl stood beside him, a girl who was new in town, a girl who he did help knowing the place... but he had no time... he had to go... and for he knew I was a very irreprensibile and most of all because he had no more time, litterally left the young lady there,stealing to me the promise of showing her the wonders of the downtown and bring her home safe before midnight.
Finally I had to abandon my daydreams
if Darkness was all"Forgiveness passes through pain... not silence" - she said - "So tell me all the truth and I will understand".
"Are you sure?Can you bear it?"- asked the man.
"Of course... I can wait no more!"- she replied.
"There was a valley far over the mountains where now we see the sun disappear... ah the sun... how glorious it seemed there,strong and familiar. The children of the valley grew poor and happy for generations... playing at the border of the wood, or near the old dry well. There was a game we played to show our courage... for we were boys... stupid boys we were, and ignorant of evil. The game consisted of descending into the well and remain there for as long as possible. The gray eyed child was fearful... of both the well and the teasing of the others... so, in a wretched night, he decided to face the well all alone... to scream his fear far from the ears of the companions who would have payed this behaviour with a lot of friendly fists with the delicacy that only young boys grown
the Pursuit of BeautySomeone paints with brushes,someone draws with pencils,Jacob Hayes Toodhevoice ,best known as Jack,a good looking guy of noble dutch ancestors,considered these methods too devalued and miserable for his blue blood and above all supreme genius. After a youth spent dirtying hundreds of canvas in thousand ways, a fortuitous event led him to the 'illumination'.While he was destroying the umpteenth painting with a knife accidentaly cut his own hand; a splash of blood reached for the canvas, leaving its vivid and glorious mark. Jack's eyes changed in color and expression while delirious voices in his mind started to whisper: "The knife is the brush... the knife is the brush... the knife is the brush..." - then increased till they become screams:"and if the knife is the brush... the body is the palette... the body is the palette... the body". An abominable sardonic smile took possession of his mouth, his skin became pale and in a sort of 'calm before the storm' his body stood motionless for s
I know of winterI knew of the cold
that would slap me in the face
I knew of the ice
that would challenge my balance and grace
i new of the clouds
that would come from my mouth
I watched the birds
when they flew to warmer south
I knew of the laughter
I witnessed the fun
Even if the days were shorter
and less is seen of the sun.
Ah, ChaosOh confusion, give me a peace.
It's ironic in a way,
What puts me at ease.
No ease at all,
A crazy calm sea,
The winds to set sail,
Torn masts and a breeze.
Which way do I go?
Do I take another drink?
As much as I love this elixir,
Death promises nothing to me.
I'll tell all these tales,
Will any decipher my rhyme?
Will I find my destination,
To undo the paths of time?
As I said goodbye to a man,
And he topped me off with his hat,
I gave him a smile,
For I knew he would never come back.
They wander amongst us
Great and Giant
Small and Slender
Subtle and Careful
They walk about
And Cruel all the same
They Are Here
The Things in the Trees
The Birds in the Air
They are Earth
And Earth is much Restless
Where did all the flowers go?This is the part when I watch your demise
where the evidence of your existence dies
with a quick wink and devilish grin
I'll send your soul deeper into sin
Ill cast you out into the flames
For this tragedy it is you I blame
And this punishment is the perfect fit
Spending all eternity in a fiery pit
You will beg me, I know your kind
But a drop of mercy you wont find
You used to bite at the most vulnerable throat
But now I'll slaughter you like a shoat
The children you murdered will not die in vain
It is now my pleasure to bring you pain
I'll bury in my garden when I'm done
Killing you slowly will be so much fun
I'll skin you first to hear you scream
then ill dissect you and rip out your spleen
It will feel so good to hear you cry
I'll make you wish that you could die
After we play doctor I'll get my shovel
6 feet under? lets make it double
Down the dirt whole where you will rot
Soon even the Idea of you will be forgot
Its been a month and the plants have died
My garden looks sick on the
Relentless WordsYou've found your way into my diary,
though I still don't know your name.
The scribbles and twirls that make my world,
for a short while, your essence tamed.
Pen after pen, running out of ink,
in a desperate sprint towards forevermore.
It seems I am trapped by a mapped out life
that I do not remember signing up for.
The edges of this book scream freedom
but the border is no place to rest my hands.
My fingers grow tired, filling pages with desires
but within these boundaries and contours I am damned.
Each time pen meets paper, the void slowly fills
but the words never match what I wish to exclaim.
You found your way into my diary today,
though I will never know your name.
CanvasThe staining ink of your darkest Sharpie,
The bitter scent both relaxing and startling
The gentle tug of felted tips and pen on skin
Just rest my head down,
Let the shivers take me,
I wish you could experience something similar,
But I wouldn't know how to explain,
How wonderful it feels,
When I become your canvas.
Closing my eyes,
I listen to your steady breaths,
Your soft but precise movements on my skin,
My arm stretched across the cool wood,
My knuckles lightly touching your chest
I think, if I lay still enough,
I can feel your heartbeat through my skin
When you set that ink upon my skin,
I forget about everything bothering me,
Everything hurting me
And let the shivers consume me,
When I become your canvas.
Watcher of the NightHe waits in the shadows
Watching and learning
Trying to resist
His unconquerable yearning
An actor of rare disguise
Covering half-truths with unfinished lies
His plans twist and turn
Taking years for fruition
After which he disappears
A forgotten apparition
While lesser men succumb
To the beckoning temptation
He stands regardless
Steadfast by his station
Vigil of the darkness
Watcher of the night
Countless men have tried
To evade his inhuman sight
He is the sum of his fears
For he chooses what he wants to be
He has uncertainties, he has doubts
But is afraid intentionally
He tends the shades of the mighty
And the shadows of the weak
Stifling their deceit
And plugging up the leaks
He watches and learns
Trying to fit in
But he'll soon realize
It's a battle he can't win
The cycle repeats
However hard he fights
But his fate is sealed
As Watcher of the Night
In the Dead of NightAs your name leaves my lips
In the dead of night
A shiver runs down my spine
And not one of delight.
Your eyes, they haunt me
But not as much as before
Because day after day
I realize that perhaps it's not your slate blue eyes that haunt me....
But hazel and blue instead.
The sudden realization makes me sick
As I try in confusion to make sense of it.
The thoughts of them and the feelings...
My mask that I so carefully placed to prevent this
As their names leave my lips
In the dead of night
A shiver runs down my spine
And I don't know if it's one of delight.
I Prayed For RainDear God,
I prayed for rain yesterday.
Rain to rinse the sprawling greens that lay across my home,
To wash the coats of the goats that graze there, so peacefully,
To clean the mildew from that rotting hut where the old man lives.
To cleanse my lips, for they are dirty with half-hearted lies.
I prayed for a warm, soft rain.
For a cold rain would make the grasses shiver and shrivel, and
the goats to mewl uncomfortably as they retreated into the darkness.
The old man would simply turn and hide in his aging hut of cold, cold stones.
And my lips? They would harden with the lies I coat them with.
I want a shower to dance in.
So the grasses could tickle my feet as I twirled into the light, and
the goats would shyly come forward to watch, to listen to my rhythm
The old, old man might peek between the cracks in the stones,
And laughter would crack at the lies on my lips.
Give me a rain, dear Lord,
for the Sun is burning at the grasses, killing them slowly,
the Tree (a lullaby)She put her doughter to sleep,
she sang a lullaby,
she gave her child a kiss,
she said: "Goodnight, my sky".
She tucked her baby in...
a cover made of ground
a scream resounded then,
a scream and no more sound.
When her groom came back home
he seemed to see her dance
around the giant tree
where started their romance
but she hanged down from a branch
like a silver fish from a lence
the wind made swing the noose
tricking at first glance.
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More