|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The soul eaterMy eyes plunged into thy soul
A hand on thy countenance
The other who tears thy heart
Thy blood flows abundantly on the floor
You cry, you scream with the help
Silly, it is too late
Tomorrow, an innocent woman will be like you
Mesmerized and trapped in my sharp claws
Gothic CinderellaGothic Cinderella
Cinderella wanted so much to go the Gothic ball
But she had chores to do
And her step sisters kept finding more to do
She wanted to listen to Nightwish and Within Temptation
While her sisters listened to One Direction
The sisters dressed in high street fashion
They shopped at Miss Selfridges and Next
Cinderella liked gothic clothing
Victorian cloaks with white frills
She had piercings and wore combat boots
The stepsisters did not approve
They thought she was strange
Perhaps on the borderline of insanity
They always picked on Cinderella
They were both going to the Gothic Ball
Even though they didn't like the music
It was the
How MaddeningDimensional relevancy paid with merely an eye, birthed from exceptions and death's cauldrons; shriveled of a blank sigh.
Two eves of shaded winters locked thrice in their places, an ocean of clear tongues to drown; blessed with the graces.
Mere conceptions of insane peculiars, with their masks and crippled boxes, of whom they speak die freshly in rugs, bleeding deep within the poxes.
And explain why are these relevant, who binds them all within blinds, a mere widow of subconscious keys; the mask without the eyes.
WordsTaking your words I crumpled them up, and put them in my little woolen pocket, every step drags
Me down for I know, I am going to have to carry them about somberly in the breeze, such pain is not
Escapable, for words clench the blood out of my heart, leaving it only to be severed with the rest of
The organs to follow, such words consume me like a dark plague, with nowhere yet but to scurry to the
Walls of my brains, knowing now what must be done, taking a knife as a relic of nonexistent fear, cutting
Only deep down to make a hole, in hope longing pain goes out, my eyes burn with lasting joy as I watch
The words fall with drips of blood,
LinesSeeing through it all can be an everlasting savior, for those left who cannot, such fear comes to be
Inescapable to the eyes, one more to creep over into its place, taking time away with every glance
One more to tread, bitterness succumbing every step a maze of lengthened simplicity, wrapped into
Hallucinations of a morbid mind crossing the streams of living, watching the lines in the world passing
Slowly by searching only to waste time, for they are never going to change, the moments come and go
Only to leave, the mind troubled with voices festering in the immorality of fear…..
My eyes have found the bottle,
Half full with a proclaimed solution. Consumption is my body's only need...withdrawal, it's demons kept at bay only by repetitive submission...
The bottle stares back with lifeless, nonexistent eyes...a thousand yard stare only to find me in my own mind, staring at a broken mirror at choices of mere potential...a clap of thunder snaps me from hypnosis.
A sweat grows from the soil of my pours, as my ears pick up the screaming demons drawing closer by the second...insanity is the flare that they so love to follow to my place of solitary self torture.
Closing my eyes only grants those demons the images they wer
Little wings of white flamesGo ahead and feed the beast with bitter sweetness, and watch it come out of me and tear you to
Pieces, I am but a limp and frail ghoul hiding away in the darkness, licking away my wounds as my
Lips turn saturated red, that is why every single night I run and hide away from such ideas of mine,
As they try to take me down while trickling down my spine, when the pain comes out it will creep
Upon your skin and percolate the mind, causing you to screech in fright, running around looking for
A way to escape, and I will be but dust in the remnants of the shadows, looking in the gates for my
Little wings of white flames….
Night of the 13thNight of the 13th
Lines on the Wind
That night, the whole community was still
As though a strange event would befall
Then there came a solitary voice
'T was neither man nor woman, nor child
They all had gone inside and locked their doors
Nay, 't was the wind
How oft of late have I heard the voice?
I swear, it knows my name
Who could have told it?
The wind, it is a westerly flow
It has blown for many a night this week
Is there not a cemetery yon,
Somewhere in the distance, to the east?
Perchance, as it crossed a solitary grave
Someone there poke my name
When the body feels a chill, we wear a coat;
When the heart feels the chill, what can we wear?
Hark, now the wind is rattling my door
It sounds as though a hand is knocking
It has called my name again
Ah, what can this portend?
Burial if you find this
cremate my feelings
put my thoughts in a mausoleum
bury my heart in a wooden coffin
dump my soul into the sea
just leave my body here.
Treated like a StrangerMerciless creature you have bitten off my wings and devoured them whole, in promise that my hope
Would be gone, you left me for dead in this dreary pool of blood, why do you treat me like a stranger,
What did I do to deserve such silence? why can we not be more than this, if you want to play then I’ll
Pretend and have it my way, I will tape your mouth so I can say I have won, nothing pays to have such
Silence of yours, and see your cunning eyes go back into your skull, I am but a joker and you are the
King mocking me with your surrounding peasants, but you just wait for such mockery will lead
To your undoing……
War and DeathWar was one a game
A game with sticks and toy guns
It didn’t mean anything
Now war means everything
War invades our minds
Intrudes on our hearts
It is no longer a game, but real
Where people get hurt
Where people really die
Death was once just a word
A word with little meaning to me
It didn’t have meaning
Now death means everything
Death kills our joy
Murders are love
It is no longer just a word, but fate
That leaves people hurt
That leaves people dead
War and death is all too real
To real in our lives anymore
War is everything
Death leaves nothing
War captures our minds
Death drowns our love
They are no longer games or words, b
DespairAcross the bellowing sky comes abroad and leads to a road, full of longing screams and cries, with voices
Telling curious souls not to go farther for they will become perished with bellowing plagues accustomed
To the lurking sonnets, hoping such ones will come to take away their sins, and free their lost locked
Away minds, a recipe for despair over scourges the land, blinding already swelled bloodied eyes, such
Burning emptiness enters into this road of vile obscenities, only to swallow those up ablaze who are
Weak and inferior, whose hearts have already bursted open being liable to suffer….
Liar, liar, Soul on fireLiar, liar,
Soul on fire,
Now you hang
By razor wire.
You come to me,
Then try to run.
But you are caught
In my web of fun.
You return, yet again
To the towers three.
Your body and soul
Belong to me.
You try to lie,
But you only deceive yourself!
I’m no longer chasing,
Your no longer in health.
You don’t know yet,
Well, let me show,
Walk on through.
I’m sure you do,
I know you hear the blades singing.
You started off
In the towers,
And you escaped.
Or did you?
You lie, but only to you.
Who do you think your trying to fool?
Not me, not them, not you.
And now I say, welcome, to t
black maskmy mask laid in front of me,
right there, in front of me.
the mask I wore in the morning,
the mask I removed at night
come morning I was peaceful,
come night fall I was deadly
shadows danced in vain to scare me away,
rats sank into their sewer holes,
moths dropped like flies at my feet
behold my utter--- black
oh, so funny the way they all run from me
the tenacious tickle down my spine- don’t make me laugh
don’t make me take of my mask.
i creep under the bed,
the light is such an unwelcoming burden
the sun is certa
Too LateThe word by which all things are governed, whispered in my ear,
That when judgment day does come, I have much to fear.
Even if I were to conjure enough desperation
To allow myself to become better,
I would still not hear the beautiful tingling
Of soft angel voices
In my head mingling.
Smoky lips summon me from one direction then the next
Always down but it does not matter from east or from west.
They say that the divine one is in all places and things,
But I don’t think it is he
Who calls out to me my name,
And many other dastardly secrets
Far from that which was tame.
Red breath of intoxication waves around a blackening heart.
The TypewriterThe Typewriter
It began and ended with a word.
Not a particularly strong or powerful word, but a word that changed everything. It wasn't too long or difficult to spell. It wasn't uncommon either. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary word, but, I suppose, its commonplace origin is what made it so special.
I loved that word.
But the word doesn't mean much without the story along with it and I was always one for telling good stories.
I ignored the call from the other room and remained seated. That tone wasn't unfamiliar. Taking a bite from my toast, I waited for him to call again. It wouldn't be more than ten—
"Sammy! Come q
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More