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The Bloody Dark
Contributed by
Tot
on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 12:48:49 AM in AEST
Topic:
abstract
|
I sat, tonight, in my melancholy again
dead to the lies of the world
though a whisper in the darkness
called to me in vain
something crashed inside of me
tearing me, twisting me, scarring me again
and in the darkness I became aware
of just how alone I am
my face lay sadly upon the pillow
no humanity left inside
I am alone in my melancholy
so upon this bed I am alone
damned to ever be
helpless in my melancholy
a change of fate
a sharpened blade
a sketch in history
The bloody dark steals me away
from the misery in which I reside
my last fleeting breath~
Vanity in life!
Vanity in the very breath you breath
we are all damned to serve life cold
vanity, vanity
my life is only this
kill this ,take it away ,I am just vanity!
the bloody dark must save me from this!
nothingness is what I see
black from here to insanity
the earth, a smell so wretched and cold
pushes me further until I am forgotten
you would not remember one who so easily faded
an empty slot in someone's life
but you would not care~
your hands are covered with the blood of the world
The darkness is swamped with anguished cries
I cannot see from who they come
I cannot serve them any hope
for what hope lies in the forgotten
there is none
there is only the bloody dark
vulgar in it's own vanity
Never given a chance to bleed
their souls will never rest
the Bloody Dark has served another rescue, from the pain
and served it's victim with death and distress!
Copyright ©
Tot
... [
2007-06-25 00:48:49]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by FRANCO on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 02:45:43 AM AEST
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Very philosophical and thought provoking poem and you have presented it with grace.
Masterful work my friend..
FRANCO. |
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by Thespia on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 05:42:00 AM AEST
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| What an amazing poem, so deep! I can totally relate to every word. Thank you so much for posting such an emotive, wonderful poem. |
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by Bruce on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 01:22:29 PM AEST
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| agre. Very put forward, for sure with Franco |
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by Bruce on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 01:24:15 PM AEST
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| I agree with Franco Very well put forward, for sure . |
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by Vampirequeen on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 02:02:22 PM AEST
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Nice very nice i agree with both bruce and franco on this one.impressively dark .
love it |
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Re: The Bloody Dark
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Monday, 25th June 2007 @ 02:17:05 PM AEST
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The Ghost Alarms are many in their melancholy. You are alone in your melancholy, according to this poem. Though we hope you feel and understand when you share your loneliness, you are with many in those thoughts. We believe that if all that were lonely were to unite, there would be no loneliness in the world. This is why the Ghost Alarms are many, for if we were individual, we would be alone. As we sit at our desks in our robes we contemplate what could we do in honour of this poem. Because we do not know where you live, we cannot get you for this experiment, though we will have you know, there are ways of finding such things out. So in your honour we find nestled away in our closets a large block of wax. We take our scalpels and knives, we carve out what we believe a "tot" would look like. It really doesn't matter, for we are just going to throw a robe and death mask on it anyway. This creation we will call, "Wax Tot". Out of another block of wax we also create a wax desk for wax tot to sit at. We try to communicate with wax tot, but it does not respond. We have given it brandy, but it does not drink. So we silmutaneously try to perform a scene from one of our plays. Wax tot does not respond, but stares at us as if to say, we are no Shakespeare. This angers us so we each pull out torches and set wax tot aflame. Wax tot begins to melt. We dance around the melting wax tot in unison, chanting simultaneously, "you are not real". When are dance is over wax tot has become a pile of wax. We are confused for this experiment did not work or serve any purpose whatsoever. So scratching our heads in unison we come up with a better idea. We each take our favourite drinking goblet and kneel down to the pile and fill them with wax. Then each pull strands of our hair to serve as the wick. So in honour of your immensely dark and powerful poem we will be burning candles tonight made from the remains of "Wax Tot", our own hair and inside of our favourite goblets. This was bloody dark, displaying a once well known loneliness. We truly hope one day you can call your loneliness, once known. In one last tribute to your poem, when we decide it is time to drift to our nightmares, we will cut the palm of our hands and let the drops of blood put out the candles, turning the light to bloody dark. And several drops of blood will be spilled for we are many.
May Wax Tot's ghost come visit you tonight and whisper in your ear, "I'm melting" ...... The Ghost Alarms |
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