[x]

Love is a PhoenixI have seen nothing more tragic,
Than watching love die.
Enduring it’s painfully fade,
At stubbornly clings to life

The slow death of a love,
That’s filled with years of life.
Or the sudden snap,
As it blinks away in a lover’s eye.

It doesn’t go easy,
And it doesn’t go fast.
It goes out fighting,
Because love was made to last.

It is a brilliant flame,
Drowned in water.
It clings to the air,
With all its dying embers.

Yes, I have seen no sadder sight,
Than watching love as it dies.
But I have been blessed to gazed upon no otherworldly scene,
Than watching love be born again, anew and free.

All I Will Ever BeThe fear that I let hold me back
Buried me in my shame
Desperately I waited for a second chance
But that chance never came

Small and helpless I glare at fear
As he stands looking down at me
If I let him continue to lead my life
This is all I will ever be

The Devil's WayMake a bargain, sell your soul.
Condemn it to the deepest hole
That ever came of fact or thought.
For such a price ought can be bought.
Just sign right here. This dotted line.
Cut the last ethereal twine
That ties your body and your mind.
Don't you wonder what you'll find?
Be free of all your earthly toil
And later you will surely boil
In tar as deep and thick as night
From which escapes no saving light.
So what's your choice? It's time to choose.
What will you gain? What will you lose?
Sign right here and you can say
"I lived my life the Devil's way".

Ocean's CallRays of the morning Sun tear the veil of mist
Ships slumber by the shores, waiting to be awoken
Ocean whispers while they slumber of her beauty unspoken
The wooden bodies by her waves are longfully kissed
The beacon closed her fiery eye, the Sun laid her to sleep
But the slumber of the ships will soon and slowly break
When the ships have spread their sails, then they'll be awake
Not because of the chiming bells, but by the Ocean's weep
And the arms of safe lands will not embrace them anymore
When they hearken Ocean's calls and her secrets hidden
One by one, they will leave their safest home - the shore
But perils lurk in dulcet calls of the Ocean so enchanting
Nevertheless, the ships will leave, for freedom is not forbidden
They shall sail forevermore, mesmerized by the eternal chanting

The broken cupThe broken cup does not signify much,
Other than I dropped it
and I ought to clean it up.

It is not an allegory
for my last relationship;
Just a gift from a friend
From which I liked to sip-

And there's coffee on the floor,
In the carpet, down my dress.
Does it have to be a metaphor
For me to be distressed?

Why can't we just drop
A damned cup of damned coffee,
Without it being a brooding realisation
Or a life-epiphany?

HeartHello, you’re new, shall I show you around?
You will feel at home here, I assure you,
You know this place, it is a sacred ground,
It may look cluttered but there’s room for two.

You will notice that there are just four rooms,
It seems ‘small’, but I choose to use ‘cosy’,
Left is cold, right is warm, by both life blooms,
Your bed is central, should you feel dozy.

You could stay forever, if it’s your will,
And I would like you to stay with me, please?
For now you are here to leave is to kill,
Keep my beating and fleeting heart at ease.

My Muse Has Left MeWhen she departs from my grace,
My palette dries in her wake,
Devoid of livelihood for now,
With dull words to fill my tray,
For now I paint a portrait,
With gray,

With no wings of my own,
I am yet to be grown,
For she alone floats me high,
She alone carries the brush;
Strokes colours unto the night,
Filling the empty artist with,
Her sweet kiss of silvery light.

So I lay now in wait,
Under rainbows left gray,
To taste the honey of her life,
Dripping like nectar from rose-soft lips,
Pressed tight as a clamp unto mine,
Breathing into me a laced love letter,
Sighed: To the artist; From: The divine.

Can't believe I couldI can't believe I could fall for you,
but I can't get rid of an impression,
you would understand meanders of my soul,
and take me safely home.

I can't believe I could think of you,
and I can't accept I could like your view,
but when it comes to the truth - I do,
and this complication is incredibly new.

A breakthrough giving rise to an new age,
before I fall offstage.

Drifting among the Spheres...Descending the stairs to the top of the tower,
I stumbled and sank in the sky;
From Venus to Yuggoth I rose like a cork,
Through the æther of Space I now fly...

From the light of Andromeda, crystalline-bright
To the uttermost distant of stars,
I must drift evermore on this eternal flight;
Farewell to Jupiter and Mars!

The Big Bang was merely one drop in the pail
Of Cosmoses unnumbered and vast...
As Infinity drowns in Eternity's depths,
So long will my great journey last.

Hadal OblivionFrom vastest depths of the forgetfulness,
The wail of the banished memories
Resounds, bouncing off invisible walls of nothingness,
And their painful intensity – sonance, greatly varies.
Oh, millions of darkest memories cast out
To oblivion, gently caressing them and yet...
They are starving; on the edge of life; bleeding out.
Although kept alive in emanation of agony, grief and hate.

Many want to banish those shards
of their lives. In the end - banishing themselves.

Stripped of those shards of glass, containing memories,
We are nothing – especially not humans. Without identity,
We may find ourselves lost in the overwhelming wor

Sexual AwakeningMy heart kept pumping
But it drowned in its blood
Waiting for someone
To save it from its flood

Yeah, I did that once
Now my patience is dead
I waited and waited
As my heart just bled

Now my patience is dead!

Now I paint the town red
With that sexy new paintbrush
I just met instead
To rephrase what I said
I paint it in my head
When I picture the masterpiece
We can create in my bed

I’m awaken by perfect chaos
Of tranquil vividness
I believe that this is the outcome
Of my restlessness
In silent chaos I’ll hunt down
The prey of exquisiteness

I’ll lure them in
As I prepare to entrap
Then go for the kill
And begin

The measure of the lost memoryAge is but a fraction,
But a story not yet told,
But a sentimental value,
But something we cannot hold.

Age impedes our victories,
Age stands in our way,
The young remain incapable,
And the old will seldom stay.

Age is not a birthday,
Not a frame of time from birth to death,
Not a number that can be ever told,
Not a number told on dying breath.

Age can not be measured,
For none can seem to find,
That age refers to the memory,
Of the thing within your mind.

And whence you forget what your mind holds,
The age is lost as well to the abyss,
And the hourglass drains the last grain of sand,
And the pure void, ensures pure bliss.

Just scaredYour words were scaring me,
What can i say?
Whatever it is, is nothing to stay,
Let me walk for that i shall,
I wont ever even be found.

ArtistWhat skill with your hand you do lightly draw,
connecting lines to form dazzling dreams,
without being able to make a flaw.

Sparks fly in your magic, persistant eyes,
creating a new world in your image,
with confidence that reaches new highs.

Your efforts always seem unrewarded,
the public turning a cold, blind eye,
with nothing to keep your ego fed.

But what dif'rent message is seen in scribes?
Nothing but a meaningless textbook here.
A school's reading has no creative vibes.

A generation that does not read out,
only wants to see words in the pictures,
though there are those who read Poe's works about.

Though literature can on

The Imperfect LineWritten by Josiah Shockency (JCS)

Life is an imperfect line,
We all have ups and downs,
Positives and negatives,
And even smiles and frowns…

It’s a pleasure to be born,
And your life’s a treasure,
But there are stains that won’t budge,
While having all pleasure…

ANGER! DEPRESSION! SADNESS!

Life, what is life anyway?
With all this love and hate,
Mixed together into one,
A huge stain on your plate…

JEALOUSY! STRESS FROM MADNESS!

With bullies in life of school,
Mugs and thugs in cold streets,
With enemies that lurk on,
Seeking for one’s defeats,

FEELING IGNORED! LOSING HOPE!

Bills to pay, mone

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Memoirs of a Cutlass

by $Ayame-Kenoshi, Dec 18, 2010, 8:10:53 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Today we lay to rest
One of the very best
A car, nay, a friend
Who was with me 'til the very end
Of the fall semester of senior year.

There was nary a car with a trunk
That could hold copious amounts of junk
Or steering that could turn on a dime
At least 30 percent of the time
You will be missed.

From your wide set eyes
To thighs that held no lies
With a pleather interior which absorbed the heat
And was sure to burn those who took a seat
Well, that may not be as missed.

You got me from point A to point B
Even when I wanted to go to point Z
With such a style that was all your own
You traveled across many time zones
And as such your clock was often wrong.

Short trips to NHS, OD, and VU
And long trips to LA, IL, and NYC too
You never complained when I pushed you too far
And far surpassed any sports car
Except for not having working interior lights, a broken gas gauge, a radio antenna that didn't retract, a small engine, tiny tires, belts that often came loose, etc.

You survived harsh winters and brutal summers
Despite that being kind of a bummer
You carried friends and enemies alike
But never could quite fit my bike
I figured you were just jealous.

So today you've reached your final destination
And I hope this has been a proper exaltation
Though you went by many names
Olds, T-Bone, Cutters, it's all the same
My friend and faithful partner, you will never be forgotten.

Thank you for your service.

Memoirs of a Cutlassby $Ayame-Kenoshi

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

On December 15, 2010, my car went to be in the big parking garage in the sky. This was written in his memory.

He was a '96 Oldsmobile which I named Cutters. He was my first car handed down from my brother who received it from our Aunt and Uncle. Though he wasn't the sleekest looking car and definitely had his odd ways about him, he was very dependable and really better than I could ever ask for.

The idea for this took many manifestations, but I'm pleased with the end result. On the bus ride home from the car dealership where he was towed, a flood of memories came pouring back to me. I originally wanted to write a short story, but that's when I thought a cheesy poem would be more appropriate.

This poem's not supposed to be good or rhyme perfectly, because my car wasn't about perfection or looking good. Cutters did his job, which was to transport me safely from one place to another, without fanfare or splendor.

_{I realize this is more extravagant than what should be done when your car dies, but it's meant to be silly and over-the-top.}

*Anthony-aggro Feb 19, 2012

The cars of our lives. There should be a soap around them. This is a great homage to your old ride.

$Ayame-Kenoshi Feb 19, 2012

They really are.

Thank you!

^3wyl Dec 19, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Aww...

I can never feel the same as what some people do, but... it's quite endearing, this. I like how it feels humorous, and yet there's emotion there as well, lurking behind it and all.

Great phrasing and structure to it. I like the way it flows and how it's pretty continuous, as if to emphasise that it'll be wish you forever, regardless of everything else.

$Ayame-Kenoshi Dec 20, 2010

Thank you so much! I'm glad you felt that way!

`TimberClipse Dec 18, 2010 Professional Filmographer

It may or may not rhyme 'perfectly' but you did a great job! I have written some poems before and rhyming is really very hard.

Great work Toby

$Ayame-Kenoshi Dec 20, 2010

Thanks!

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