Bloom to fantasies requiem
Bloom to Suns caress
A Deeper shade
A Darker feel
To lash and wit
Is our Gardens nature
Think our Leather not foul
For upon our skin
Feels as right as Rain
TeachersI met a woman, long ago, her spirit bold, her skin so fair, yet her past, a tale untold.
I saw her through the blackest night, a night that still evokes a seeded fear.
How could I have been such a fool, may the Gods strike me so bold!
She took my heart and stamped it out, rend asunder, and took to flight.
Left me broken, this I know, I still can grasp her scent in wind so foul; it grips my soul.
Truly, I lay upon my back, gazed at stars; I would see the moon burn red; may Love be brought down low, for I lay forsaken here.
I took her by the hand, I comforted her deepest fears and banished them unto the void.
She led me to believe, that I was only One, Bold and spoken for, it was all a lie.
I swore in two tongues, and then a third, I would see the day fall dim, should I wake from this ill dream, may I never be so bold.
Time went on, and I healed my broken heart.
Then as if the Gods heard me, They sent an Angel to renew my Flame, and I found myself, a Man again.
She basked in my words, to
So soon does the page end.
So soon does my ink dry out;
spread so thinly as my soul,
yet the words that I doth writ
gleam as bright as hidden gems.
Sought from this world;
I hid in shame.
I found a power
So great and unimaginable;
A diamond mine, I struck
And thus did these words flow
Verses, psalms, and notes profound;
Within me, birthed a new sound.
At once did I discover;
I took to page and writ these words,
Lashed from bone
and penned in blood;
Great truths did I proclaim.
I called to others;
Writers dim and great alike.
Artists both unknown and famous;
all sought out
To share what I had uncovered
A gift and blessing to all who read.
May they find the strength here
that eluded them all their years.
May Truth exalt our souls,
As we all seek fame
To make us feel, truly accomplished.
I danced my pen across the cello’s strings
I twitched the chords of an angelic harp
I sang a song and angels found it bright
Lifted me up, from this darkne
Should madness grace me here this night,
I’ll sever pen from this eerie dusk light.
And mark the note, so clear, with angel flight,
To hear the song, of divine and ancient might.
I’ll pause my quill and rest my ears
on a chord that sings, sublime, away my fears.
Through all my hopes and dreams, I’ll fade away with joyful tears
At Heavenly choir, that draws me ever near.
I can see Hell; no more, and now unclear...
My path before me, alit with thoughts and wings.
These songs I hear, from darkened hymns and choral beams;
I am ripped apart at the seams,
by tunes and visions that haunt my dreams,
and visit me upon my waking eyes, dear ‘oh me, I’ve won the prize
A great gift, this maddened pen,
that etches psalms across the minds of men.
And tears from them their slumber deep;
turns them into the humble and the meek.
By grace is given, these haunting visions;
at once they plagued me, now they only visit
and dote upon me wise; greets me with gifts and n
On Temple GroundOn Temple Ground
Oh sacred Ground,
thy Earth is pure,
thy song is gold;
as the diamond of the world.
Oh holy site
now marked by stars, all alight,
your presence is graced
by Her divine steps,
Of which she made
of her own accord.
Her resplendent song;
A golden voice
as pure as the swan
that blessed the Eternal Pond.
A majestic Temple
Built on holy rock,
With brick and stone, taken from afar
and carried to this place; delight,
My home will open to all.
I hear the wind
from Her lips.
Her name is pure;
I dare not utter it aloud.
Yet She is known
by all great Muses.
She arrives in Dreams
etched from immortal seed,
Thy shall bask in song and brew.
Merry are those days
That lifted me from my descent,
Her faithful tune,
Carried me from darkest Hell.
Upon her bosom
I rest my crown
She soothes me still
with her divine image.
She sings to me a song;
well played on lute so rare.
Without Her blessing,
I could not prevail.
Without Her guidance,
My step would surely falter.
I thank Her now, with this
There are many sights that I have seen,
Upon the pebbled road,
Upon the simple path,
Yet none can compare
To the sight of my soul,
Empty and Alone.
I use to think
That I was meant to be alone.
Now I am sure of it.
But it no longer bothers me.
I use to cry,
Alone in the dark;
Without a guiding hand,
Rent from Angels light.
I use to cry alot,
Now I am still.
As a stone within a pond,
Immersed in sorrow,
Yet unmoved or unshaken.
What have I become?
I don’t feel like I use to.
My Heart is cold.
I muse about the noble woman,
who may yet rekindle,
A broken, soft Heart.
And here I stand,
After the long road,
Upon the precipice .
A new chapter awaits;
I remember my Father.
I think of my Mother.
This journey has been for them
as much as it is for me.
I remember my Fathers wisdom:
“The road is endless.”
I hear my Mothers words:
“You are not alone.
Angels love thee.”
I wish that I could
feel their grace upon my soul.
I feel sickened
that I c
In WantIn Want
How great my desire,
How fortunate my soul.
To sit here at chapters end,
And bask in glory whole.
I cannot believe,
The luck bestowed
upon my able mind,
and failing body.
To me I make this vow,
that once I win the day,
All shall bow
before my unconquerable soul.
And once the day is won,
I will reap my Fathers wishes,
and make his dreams
an ever waking reality.
I shall find a home,
for what is left
of us, too few in number,
yet great with score.
We shall revel in our glory,
and wonder at our joyous luck,
but the embers of chance shall fade
only to reveal
Twas Fates hand and not lady luck.
That played their part so great.
The Calm - An Anariarch MusingThe Calm - An Anariarch Musing
If one sits upon a stone so calm, if one glances far up above, they might see feathers, rent from angel wings so bright; I have seen such a sight. A single feather brings peace so clear. A single thought, spreads a message so profound; very deep, I find them still. Floating above a pond, or flowing amongst a river. Stuck on a branch, or among the roses; once I saw a Feather in my Tea, its fluff shining through the morning mist, as a lighthouse amidst high cliffs. I sit in my kitchen, about me there are herbs and spices, an aroma here and there, even incense puffs from a stalk, fastened to a holder, as wise as time. There are plants that perk the eyes and give amusing blooms. Flowers spread their pollen; my nose is stalwart at their scent, never sneezing yet at once allured. Peace come to my mind; I sip my tea, it is very fine. My House is clearly divine.
Beyond this table, at which I sit, behind me lie two open doors, a gateway to my Garden. But with this
Ancient Conquerer - An Anariarch TaleAncient Conquerer - An Anariarch Tale
If ever there was a time, to put in writ these thoughts of mine, now is the hour, for mine enemies flee and cower; With this sign I have conquered. Truth and musings, this I speak, from tongue once wicked, now humble, thus, meek. With ancient bread, and simple wine, I partake this of mine this night. And should my soul decide, this very night to take deep flight, I shall travel very far, and bring glad tidings; there is no need to spar. My pen is gentle by eerie light, caressed by a moon lit star, I shall write great words, with strength and might.
Of the road behind, I speak in solemn verse; the thought of it does fully immerse. Myself, I am marked and scarred, wounded, yet still I march on. I was not always this brave, it was not always that my head looked above. Often, I would be found in the Pit, blacken as Oil, crying out as a misfit; truly I say. The demons would sometimes win the day. Yet night and sleep does not end the road; dreams as whis
A Vision by The Anariarch #1A Vision by The Anariarch #1
Twas on a cold barren night; I lay still upon the grass. My pipe ember smolders beside me; a puff taken hours ago. I made clear my intent to the green herb, I sought the Shamans wisdom, I sought to cleanse my soul.
My father, still living, scorned me from afar, but did not impede. My mother, dearest of all, stood away and worried still. But none dared impede.
I lay still upon the blue grass; not a single muse befell me. My mind was empty of all thoughts; I simply stared beyond the Heavens.
Then at once was I shook, my body trapped and unmoving; my breathing seemed to stop. I had thought Death would draw his Scythe, and take me beyond the Gate; at once I saw my folly, I was young and without wisdom.
Paralyzed upon my blue grass bed, I trembled silently as a babe; an open door into my mind, soon the flood will be upon me and mine. From the Garden did it wake, a howl from beyond, ancient with hunger, though as family did it take me. I could have sworn, I heard
DeathMareWhen I die,
still the birds will sing and fly
When I die
few will mourn me, few will cry
When I die,
still will rain, still will dry
When I die;
tell me when, I know why.
When and if I ever die,
you'll see my star up to the sky
When and if I ever die,
gods will mourn me, they will cry
When and if I ever die,
the earth will shake, seas will dry
When and if I ever die...
I am immortal, I can't die!!!
Unpainted RealityMy brain is sick.
It only thinks of twisted things.
Like how we burn our eyes out,
And we rip our wings.
And then we sit in the dark,
Staring blankly at each other.
Our eye-sockets bleeding,
On a wounded brother.
Then we kneel down,
Praying to the sun.
Hoping things get brighter;
But we don't know what we've done!
We take our tongues out,
We scar them with razors.
Spitting every blade
Across other people's faces.
And if you start feeling,
My words are getting dark;
I'm just painting pictures
But you are making them stark!
And now you feel dead;
Surreal in your mind.
So listen to this preacher,
From the land of the blind.
BrokenI cant breathe
I want to but no air comes out
I want to speak but no words come out
Why do I feel... hurt?
I feel betray
I feel like love had forgotten me
Like God only help those who have love
My heart hurts
My heart feels like a thousand needles went through my chest
and now its bleeding slowly for me to die
Why when I try to move my hands to touch the ground I can't
Touch the ground
Just to know its still there
Just to know I am still alive
I feel like a broken doll
Shatter into pieces
Pieces all over the floor
With no one there to put me back together
Will fix me
No one will love me
No one will help me breath
not feel things that is real
not to even to tell me that Im alive
WingsIcarus eats his breakfast in front of the TV.
Balances his Wheaties on a butter knife
Big and strong on jagged silver cliffs.
On cloudy days, he watches fireflies
Blinking in Morse Code,
Hollering help to the tree sap they're trapped in.
He scoops ladybugs up in the crook of his elbow
To count their spots backwards,
To ask them where they've been.
He doesn't understand the morning news.
He feels it like a nosebleed,
Like a thick intrusion,
And when the worry clots on his lip, he trembles.
He says, "Papa, I wanna paint the world for you,
But it just won't sit still"
Icarus doesn't want to be in charge of hiding the universe from itself.
He's sick of kicking people out of his clubhouse.
He's got sixteen feet of imagination
Wrapped around the war monsters in his closet,
But he still can't imagine why the quiet is so tragic.
He can't figure out why he's got to hold his own hand
On the subway.
See, Icarus watches the world like an opera in ancient Greek:
He feels the words but he can
Because of Doctor WhoBecause of Doctor Who I am Afraid of...
2. Christmas trees
5. school food
7. blue tooth devices
10. children's drawings
11. MRI machines
13. gas masks
14. brass bands
17. the dark
21. coma patients
23. ...and hospitals again
25. weight loss pills
30. old ladies
Practice Poem - Man In CagePractice Poem - Man in Cage:
When I was young I was taught that pain begets pain,
Anger and animosity, malice and cruelty;
So deeply inflicted, so lovingly gifted.
I tasted of its rotten core and dared to call it sweet.
But what do I have to show for it?
White hot scars that burn in my dreams.
Reminders of a fragmented bi-polar self;
Self inflicted propaganda, to reinforce the "truth".
Truth so lovingly fabricated by a weakness within,
So desperately crying out for vindication;
Openly denying all that might shed light upon me,
Seeking only the company of shades in shadows...
Within four walls I sleep in exile;
Quietly pretending that I am still sane,
Never noticing how it has all turned out;
Alone I remain the same...
Never reaching, never living; I am free within the cage
-Chen Yuan Wen, 1st January 2012
The worst phase of life is
when you're doing something that's lost its purpose.
Life becomes so bleak, so monotonous.
It's like you can feel time,
every minute, every second, it's a fuss...
You try to find reason, but eventually,
it's 'cause....just 'cause....
Face on the WallLove, anger, blood, or a rose bed
A path of stardom upon which chosens tread.
Danger of a poisonous apple to be fed
to an uncrowned beauty whose lips tell a tale unsaid.
The wall inside his head,
With imagination it is all set to be painted.
Imagination lit by the color-Red.
The depths of the ocean that can never be seen through
An open mind like the limitless sky, flying in freedom found new.
Of the beauty that lies in her eyes, she had no clue.
The wall inside his head ready to be born anew,
to unravel the mysteries that it held-the color blue.
Darkness, negativity, engulfed the sad sack.
So lonely, no one to catch her when she falls back.
But there is another face to this, that should not be held back.
Elegance, simplicity and beauty in those locks of hair falling on her bare back.
The wall inside his head says, "Explore! Experiment, with the most versatile of all" -the color black.
Peace, purity, everything that is right.
The moon in the night, pearls and diamonds sparkling in sunl
look at the clouds todaywhen i met you, i stopped writing. i also stopped waking up to a face full of post it notes saying things like its bad luck to see the woman before the driving test, or my house smells like apple cider and bluebottles have eyes, or i've got static in my arms. i stopped feeling sorry and i stopped falling down the stairs. i noticed the stars at night could have a story and you could have taken the ocean and put it in your eyes. i also stopped writing.
when i met you, i stopped trying to be a nice person and just was. when i met you, i discovered post it notes and then i couldn't use them. i realised my house was not just a picture of a house and that your silence is so loud and my loud is so quiet. when i met you, i stopped writing and i cut star shapes into my blanket because i couldn't reach the sky, even with a ladder.
when i met you, i traced the map of your bones and filled my hands with yours because i stopped writing. i also stopped walking backwards because i noticed that i coul