About Nothing Much

https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/541698661413237494/

This is about all the silent guns.

Bullets that left the chamber without a sound.

They left some very silent corpses.

Heavy things, corpses.

You wouldn’t think so with the soul so out of it,

but the beating heart of the drum in it was gone

and that made all the difference.

 

About the tape plastered over their lips

“Was that necessary”,

asked the detective

“When really no one listened in the first place”

“Probably”

said the corpse,

“I didn’t stop, after all”

“And besides,”

“my teeth know their skin,”

“they taste blood.”

The detective closed the body bag.

Corpses don’t talk,

he needed a drink, he got a therapist instead.

 

“I don’t care,”

three words, three syllables.

Makes it important, doesn’t it.

Only if you think so.

Some people believe in the rule of three.

Others would never even consider it,

the rule of seven must be more important

 

“Nothing.”

Is all she ever thought she says.

Its all anyone listens to.

Why talk when the light of reality,

only shines on you to say,

“no one needs your words,”

“If they did they would care,”

“about what you said.”

 

Warnings go unheeded

When the

PoP.

Bang.

Of guns,

shower into the night,

louder than the rain upon your window.

Silent as the grave,

you lay over the covers

covering your breathing.

As if it will help.

 

The souls of the innocent,

they don’t stay, they don’t haunt.

They’re innocent,

not brave.

You wonder if they notice,

the lack of heart,

beating in their chest.

 

The last thing anyone saw about her,

was the pit falls and dreamy smiles,

was the shiny hair and shiny teeth,

was the fake lipstick stains and the faker laughs.

Whoever saw anything other than that.

Whoever dreamed that the bulldozer,

she drove,

drove bodies into pits deeper than her eyes.

Whoever caught her die.

 

Another moon above the stormy ocean.

Sailing and sailing the sailors started to beg.

Water they needed.

Lungs they had filled.

Drowned men before them.

Begging for a cleaner kill.

Water was the only thing they couldn’t get to.

Not over the water logged corpses.

 

Many fled the streets in panic.

The gunshots followed,

not a single bullet wasted.

They made a point not to hurt the innocent.

None were innocent in this war.

 

Conviction followed the steely eyes,

and the guns that never stopped firing.

Lighting fires of desolation,

in the hearts of weary men.

A message to them all that day,

“they will not stop”

“they will not perish”

“until we make it so.”

 

Loyalty in the hearts of men,

breed love in the hearts of brothers.

They would.

Fight.

Love.

War.

Together and never apart.

For that was the family they loved.

 

When the black coats of hunters

stood before them.

They’re dreams would be haunted,

until they could hope to return the deadly favor.

With silver bullets and bloody knives.

A flash in an alleyway.

Nobody left alive.

 

“An eye for an eye.”

“Doesn’t it leave the whole world blind.”

The smoke curled over the gravestone.

“By this grave,”

“I’d rather the world be ashes than blind.”

The oath burned his tongue.

 

Roses fell with abandon.

Blood dripping like black from ink

from red petals.

They never saw it coming.

They bought roses regardless.

They knew she liked tradition.

She didn’t like roses.

 

Gold and silver only glittered in sunlight.

They glittered then, in the light of the fire.

Ashes and ashes.

Bitter and black.

Oil paintings burned like kindling,

and the money rained and railed.

 

He smiled a vicious smile.

A baring of teeth.

An oath kept, by the light of day.

Shackles

 

https://zsazsabellagio.tumblr.com/post/34341425410/nimbusfuck-la-fleur-des-murailles-on-we-heart

 

A hundred weights on her shoulders and she couldn’t move.

Her body turned to stone, a spirit gone.

twinkling starlight,

rained from above,

They were accustomed to outlast her;

mocking her in every breath,

watched from aloft.

The eerie dark, streaks towards her;

nameless, wonders, seeking, wanting, believing.

Never moving for they have gone to stone,

like the spirit they have outlasted.

She walked and dances no more.

She looked like a king,

built like a god,

She is a queen,

and all loved her,

a thousand strong.

Yet fire and brimstone, down they went.

Rebellious and turned,

all they needed and wanted, could not save them.

Out cried the abandon and the void;

Upon them descended, beckoning and calling

the reckless and the hateful, they are accused,

they shall fall forgotten,

beyond snow caped peaks.

beyond the horizon, touching over the sky.

They followed and followed,

the trails went cold

the emerald leaves fell to earth

the great beyond beckoned and called-

over carcasses decrepit and eerie,

over vast structures with no end,

over little shelter from rain and snow,

spectacular views with little ways down;

the earth calls beyond.

they followed and followed their hearts forever silent,

Breath forever displaced, gone among the lost

they followed that which should lead them astray-

the cawing birds, like thunder and theater,

and the mountain wisps, leading in perfect circles;

They don’t see-

be still as the light- color that flies,

fleeing from glinting metal.

They walked the tight ropes and

their heart crawled out of their body,

leaving a trail, bloody as it might be-

their crystal balls are still cloudy.

But they looked into the past

To the story about you-

which is the death you create,

They learn too late.

For they saw to early the birds flocked-

to long illusions of cackling power,

they feared, they wronged the crows,

Did they think they would win?

Did they think they would get away?

They long and long to meet their kin-

to know icy bones and dead finery-

to see to hear to feel,

Just once more, they know

that they look down to see one who fell

Astray from concealing shadows and thundering birds

They saw one who may just be better than all this-

gesturing greatness filled with volume

and beacons in the sky that never leave

the world filled with a dying laughter-

a stolen breath that they could feel

could know in their bones,

The world filled with desperation and salvation saw the end is nigh,

for the wreathed crown swallowed them whole

and never left.

Dodging footsteps,

calling out to you,

here you are-

and here you belong

filled with folly and a part of the dawn

With the scales and comets-

with tails like mermaids flowing through the darkness.

The feel apart of stars who are just angels,

With burning souls

O mortal, O son of man,

don’t look at them to long.

For they don’t quite care.

As they colour an illusion, the lights a trickery

nothing is as bright as the sky is scorching-

Blink, and you’ll miss the nights

With its dying sunsets in the glowing dawn,

The dawn that set and rose upon another

Those that needed a new victory,

crowned with honey and roses

with hidden thorns the righteous bleed

and the horns blow and bellow their defeat,

bear their arms so they may see-

the beauty in your bloody armoury.

That fails in desert winds of howling danger

Dying upon red filled ground, rent with blows

They seek to fill you

With a keen sense of storms, so

you will know, a turning when you see it

See the ocean that drank their blood gladly

hungering for more, for the fools upon her seas

Dipping their hands in,

it came back with fell deeds-

An ocean of blood, dying with the poison of tears.

They cupped with dark hands and drank for salvation,

For they could not see the rose and the blade,

all honey and need,

daring and dealing-

with glinting teeth

and forward brightness

rosey poison mixed with

spilled beauty, mistaken for fallen

upturned earth and swirling skirts

what they needed, you see, was

The tortured graves of the fallen-

and the bloody grins of the victorious.

A reflection off the blood moon, told them they had it, for you see,

joyous and in strife,

the hope of the lost rested upon slim shoulders,

and for once the steel of ancestors,

shone through,

“here is one,” they thought,

“here is one they could follow.”

For she bowed to no one.

Not yet was it to be, for hope burned bright

and was stolen in the night,

in a tale for a need for a deal,

they saw through the night

and didn’t despair,

-for they were born into this birthright.

A birthright of balance, and order

all fiery and gold-

not always this way,

but there was something to share,

a hope that was not lost-

merely stolen and nearly returned.

They called for it to be soon, for you see,

it forgave, never forgetting.

The graveyard made of night

The stars burned bright inside,

And the angels, ever vigilant, turned to the mocking moon

that was sunny and bright with stolen fright,

they saw the return of one that would help,

someone to Tell The Tale Of Gods.

 For once more it was heard

Among the wolves and foxes

who bayed and howled, they called and

The night seemed long, not a sound was swallowed.

And down fell the stars, void of wings

To kill, to slay, they wanted blood and marrow

but to their deaths they fall

down upon the summit of every shadow,

They see, the breaking of the sun-

as the goddess of the moon

looked upon all.

And called for benevolence

As she saw her time and,

hailed a long gone faith seeing to

A girl, vigilant as stone, a spirit for all

Dancing and wandering,

built like a God

She is a queen.

White Flag

http://the-great-dreamer.blogspot.ca/2013_07_01_archive.html

I cry to.

I wanted to yell it to the golden havens,

I cry to.

They do not see me stop,

they do not see me bleed.

 

Another war cry and an,

army spills before me.

Like the blood they spill,

they stay in shallow graves.

 

I cry to,

but they do not see.

 

I cry to,

Holding the dead tight,

My shoulders ache,

My colors blur with theirs and-

I cannot let go-

no matter how my hands,

calloused and blistered,

hold the shovel tight,

and dig my own grave,

six feet deep,

and filled with the blood of my enemies.

 

I see their blackened flags.

They soar in the wind,

and my heart roars,

and dies,

and tremors.

 

They don’t see me cry.

They hear the horns on the wind,

my war cry calling out.

 

Fear the golden havens.

 

I glitter in the sun,

but its their blinding convictions-

that make me falter-

I don’t stop.

 

I falter and stumble,

falling and dying.

 

But the dead hold on,

and I can’t stop-

Their swords of ivory,

raised in triumph.

 

I can’t break free,

the chains of a burden-

burned into my skin.

 

The golden havens are no more.

My skin burns.

My hands ache.

My eyes see no more.

 

I follow the black sky,

the red hearts,

the dark farther,

the tightening noose,

I can’t let go.

 

They are before me-

 

Let my arrow fly true.

Let them heed my call.

Let the dead rest true.

 

Gone is the forth wind,

Gone is the wild,

Gone are the clever hands,

 

Rise the dark dawn,

 

The army will not back down,

they stand and fall as I once have.

The wrath of the gods,

Golden and pure,

Red and gone,

no ash left,

there is nothing to stand in my way.

 

Hell begs to have me.

They cannot keep me.

 

I am of the disgraced,

my holy grail,

shattered underfoot,

the coffin of pine wood,

lighter than my body.

 

My armour rent with blows,

My shields lost to the tide,

My sword lost in the night.

 

Paths of dust and rain.

Oath’s lost.

I walk, chasing a shadow.

Never look back.

 

The disgraced don’t go back,

They drink to an early grave.

A shallow grave.

 

To hell’s fire,

and the fire of the night.

To the dawn of golden stars,

and destroyed loyalty.

 

Shot from the heavens,

Gone in the west wind,

No longer a friend.

 

The storm swallows

and dries the crops.

Parched are the needy,

they beg for a sip.

But gone is the giver,

gone is the disgraced,

 

An army fallen-

out of grace-

and out of favor-

out of luck-

and out of gold-

out of love,

 

They fall and burn.

The bold wails of the night-

don’t stop.

 

The disgraced broke.

 

They don’t stop for love and laughter,

stop for the dead,

stop for loyalty.

 

No one stops them,

they shatter and shatter.

The sound of laughter to loud,

To harsh,

to unforgiving,

they need the mercy of death.

 

Perhaps its time.

An ocean burns,

and the tides turn.

The sun’s dying rays,

set into a bottle and-

drunken at sundown.

 

Ready for battle,

ready for fire.

To let out a cacophony of sound-

twist and fall,

let the arrow fly,

did it land?

 

Only the gods know,

But the golden havens are gone.

 

The arrow flies,

the blessings of many cry-

don’t die,

don’t die.

A red dawn,

blood is spilt tonight.

 

Feathers blacken in the wind,

the hate glides right through.

Gone are the golden havens,

right the wrong that never was.

 

 

None can find the spinning dancers,

lips like gold and

dresses spun of moonlight-

and secrecy.

 

They are burdened,

their chains burn,

they feast tonight,

with the kings of old.

With the soldiers of iron,

and the men made of bones.

The women of shrunken colors,

and bright dresses.

Plastered faces

and arrow wounds.

 

Hey, there’s a hole in your chest.

 

The heart beats on,

into the night,

out of the light,

beyond the river,

over the mountains,

 

It beats-

the drums of war-

It calls-

the horns of death-

It beckons-

toward a death of glory-

 

of light,

to a red dawn,

to silver scales,

and angel wings,

 

Victory do right by us

and righteousness be gone.

Let the dead drown,

let their sins drag them down.

 

Gone is the love.

Gone is the light.

All but a candle flame,

waiting to be extinguished.

Distinguished from its brethren.

They glitter and shine.

 

An disgraced,

graces the empty bottle,

with its presence.

 

The dead are carried,

by the shoulders of the wounded,

they do not make it.

 

Another day another night.

Another death another life.

 

The beauty of the war-

is not lost,

by the makers,

by the generals,

by the newly hardened.

 

New weapons.

New shields.

New armor.

 

The disgraced don’t look back.

They do not come back.

 

Let them lie-

a bed of fire,

a shallow gave,

a haunting spirit.

 

They laugh,

and burn.

 

But hell cannot hold them.

 

They thrive

They survive

They live

 

And gone are the red army’s of the dawn,

gone is the laughter.

 

A child cries

 

A golden light

pierces the haven.

A war cry

the living are burdened.

 

Heavy

and gone

 

A war cry

 

The dead are many, varied,

and too much, to bury.

 

Runes and dust,

they cry

they scream

they die

 

Gone is the the graced

 

Here they fear,

they tremble,

and they know,

the disgraced won’t.

 

They won’t,

not ever

not for the dead,

not for broken loyalty,

not for golden glory,

or dying flame,

hell could not hold them.

 

The dead have been reborn

and they

Won’t wave a white flag


This is an emulation from the song White Flag by Bishop Brigs you can find the song here

I’m a mostly happy with this poem, though i didn’t have any plans nor did I know where it would go when I started writing it, but it turned out mostly how I expected it to. The warrior in the poem, was inspired a bit by how even if one goes down a white flag still doesn’t have to come up. The warrior is a better fighter than everyone around them and so as their friends die they choose to carry them around with them.

A Heart

My Breath

Stolen from my lungs

Replaced with a gaping nothing

They took my heart without remorse

Blood filled its place and

I didn’t know whose it was

My blood was frozen in my broken body

how could it have gone into the nothing

When it wasn’t moving?


She stood over me

she grew before my eyes,

a women shriveled, shrunk and withered

she turned back into a girl

but it wasn’t her

it was a girl with with a ruined bleeding face

she opened it, my chest

she turned before my very eyes

eyes that were bleeding and hollow

a stunning man stood before me

looking dazed, hurt and heart broken

he had my heart in his hand

it beat and cried

it bleed into my open chest

he changed, holding my crying heart

a friend now held my heart

beating in her palm

her shattered and despairing face

looking down on me

as she put my

heart

back

into

place


I knew

As I screamed and wept

I knew the old woman

who was immortal

but not eternally youthful

she was my mother

I knew the young girl

who was protected

with runes carved into her face

she was my sister

I knew the stunning young man

who had a soul as black as night

but grew to have emotions

he was my love

I knew my friend

who was broken and bent

but knew my compassion

She was my partner

I knew that I loved them all


I knew that my love wasn’t special

I knew that as my soul split apart

I knew that as my heart left my chest

I knew that as my lungs ceased to breath

I knew that as my brain turned into dead weight

I knew that as my limbs were teared apart

I knew that as my bones cracked and splintered

I knew that as I ceased to be

my

love

isn’t

special


 

You Gave

https://www.quora.com/Whats-meant-to-be-will-always-find-its-way-Is-this-true

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You gave me a bird, one with few feathers

You gave me a bird and said to keep him,

keep him safe

You gave me a bird and said,

“you keep it”

“yet, I do not want it”

You gave me a bird and safe, I kept it

“you gave me a bird

you didn’t want it,

You gave me a bird.”

Then made me set it free

Oh, how hard was it to do

For my safe little friend and me

But I had to do so

For if you didn’t want the bird

So couldn’t I.


You gave me a mistress,

She tumbles and turns

Big and bright like the sun and its flames

She crashes into the coarse sand,

wet and damp,

she has made it.

Large as she is, her wrath is mighty,

her anger large and crashing,

ripping many into pieces.

Beware of the water and her depth.

The mother that she is housing her children well.

Beware of the creatures inside,

those that could rip you apart in seconds.

Best stay away, where its safe from her wrath.

Where she cannot touch you,

until you come closer.

Stay away where you can run and play.

Stay where you can hide and watch her

but never stray into her

but those who do venture far into her, Beware!

Beware she can be testy at times,

but she can also be as calm as the eye in the hurricane.

She can help you along the way,

she may aid in your adventures

if she so wishes,

only if she so wishes.

Beware and respect her.

For she is a fearsome testy Mistress


You gave me a teacher,

the first day of class.

You gave me a teacher,

But where has she gone?

You gave me a teacher,

one to keep.

Why did she go?

Oh, my teacher

you gave to me.

You gave me a ball

a ball to keep

one i thought I would like

she would be happy to be with me,

my ball that I would keep

I loved the ball you gave to me

But why did you take it away?

This ball you gave me

gone it is so

gone to never be with me again

Oh, this ball you gave to me.

You gave me a clock

A clock I had to keep

I scowled at the clock

up on the wall it sat.

Innocently

Ticking, ticking

Still ticking.

It tickled my nerves

How it ticked so

The repetition would be soothing

but instead it was infuriating

What I wanted was for such ticking to stop

why couldn’t it just stop ticking

but it was always there

I was going mad in her seat

watching its hands go round

but the ticking didn’t stop

the ticking

it didn’t slow down

and it didn’t speed up

the ticking that just wouldn’t stop

oh why couldn’t it stop?

Why couldn’t it go away like she wanted it to do so

Why did it have to annoy her so with its constant

ticking

just still ticking

she imagined it broken

she imagined it in tiny little pieces

the ticking would stop then

the ticking

it just needs to stop

she hated it

so much ticking

why couldn’t it have been silent

Just telling time with out a word

But it insisted on its constant ticking and annoying

its constant barrage of sicking

ticking

around and around the hands go contributing to it

why can’t it stop?

the ticking

getting into her head

again and again there it goes

never stopping

never slowing down

never speeding up

couldn’t it just break

couldn’t it run out of ticking

couldn’t the hands fall apart and out of they’re places

couldn’t it just not happen?

If only it had never started in the first place

if only she just didn’t have to hear it

if only it would stop

if only she could make it stop

but she couldn’t could she?

No of course not she just had to sit here

and deal with this cursed ticking that just wouldn’t stop at all

https://www.travelblog.org/Photos/1048884