Simple and clear
Though murky water
It is as still, as is all water
Flood and Pain
Now does come
To all who desire
Earths humble Pun
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
To the people,Whether you are,
Whether you are,
Or even other...
We are all a community of people
Getting along doesn't come easy
I don't think we all give equal effort
I ask you the gays, hang in there and wait
I ask you the straights, please quit with the unjust hate
I ask the confused, you don't have to be just straight
I ask the men, don't be sexist
I ask the women, don't play mind games
I ask the others, abide by both
Our Sex doesn't identify us
Our Orientation isn't the only thing we are
All of us, no matter which group you're in...
We are all people
We all deserve the same treatment
If you show unrighteous hate, plan to receive such disgrace
All we ask from our fellow LGBT is to please follow the same
Straights, you non queers just listen a little please
We don't expect total acceptance, just a bit of respect
Please, don't take the option of marriage away?
Give us a chance to prove you wrong
My fellow p
There was once a mad man who sat on trains and wailed about his dead love.
No one laughed
but no one listened either.
See that freak right down the corridor, smiling and crying at the same time?
His eyes are voids and his hair the colour of his pain.
That's a man without skin.
Headlines: Drunk school girl murders seven classmates.
Could've been anyone.
Broken soldiers march on.
What they care about the most lies in the pocket closest to their hearts.
It is also riddled with bullets and dust.
Blinded lovers might be considered lucky.
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
A Cure For Writer's BlockWhen your pen hits the paper and nothing comes out
With a full cartridge, something's about.
Sitting there lonely staring off into space
You've got Writer's Block mate, it's a terrible case
The symptoms are some of the worse things to *bare
If left untreated, might as well say a prayer.
Diagnosing the problem is the first step to take
So let's get it started before it's too late.
Do you find yourself doing, the things you've put off?
Or watching TV late at night till you cough?
Dusting and cleaning. Hunting for food.
Surfing the net since you've found yourself glued.
Hanging out with friends all night long?
Getting them together for a night on the Town.
Or lying in bed staring off into space
Tossing something up till it hits you in the face.
This list of symptoms can go on and on
Keeping you busy for weeks, whilst mentally withdrawn.
Now on to the cure which you'll see,
It's really quite simple like *growing a tree
To Block means to stop, the ideas from flowing.
Get this barrica
Hollywood UndeadMaking The Kids go crazy.
Flaunting the Dove and Grenade.
Can always Tear It Up.
Rocking with the Undead Army.
The City lights up.
It's Christmas in Hollywood.
The Natives are here.
They're not Dead In Ditches.
HU is Comin' In Hot.
Screaming I Don't Wanna Die.
As the Bullet shoots by.
Picking up the Bitches and hoes.
Living in a Bad Town.
Never gonna Apologize.
Shout At The Devil is what they do.
Having those Tendencies.
Speaking foreign like Le Deux.
And El Urgencia.
They say Lights Out.
Facing The Loss head on.
So Young for it.
They're Coming Back Down.
Their Glory at stake.
Making fans run in Circles.
They're so cool that they can Levitate.
California is their home.
They want to Sell Your Soul.
Dealing with Paradise Lost.
And all the Pain.
Not No. 5 but number one.
Everywhere I Go I hear about them.
My Town and other towns.
There's No Other Place better.
They say Turn Off The Lights.
Can they Hear Me Now?
Apparently it's Scene For Dummies.
It's all in The Diary.
This Love, This Hate
Human Nature.Human Nature.
And the ambitious achievers.
Need the realists to stop them from flying too close to the sun.
The logical idealists
And the informed defeatists.
Need the dreamers to show them how some struggles can be won.
You see I am beginning to get the gist,
Of how we all unwittingly coexist.
Neither one can ever be dismissed,
As long as the reign of mankind persists.
As one tries, the other watches.
When one flies, the other dislodges
Stories aimed to defame, name, claim and shame.
Assuring and securing that the harsh reality still remains.
a modern opheliashe found fennel beneath her pillow,
and felt the familiar flutter
of glassfish between her ribs.
to distract herself, she
scattered the reddest petals
in her bathwater.
she braided poppies in her hair
let regret invade her lungs.
exhibit.Nanny thinks the carpet is too soft
to be my torturecage
and the sofa and endtables are poor
jailbars, but we
are feline and we're too tough to care
bigsister and littlesister are lioncubs today
baby lionesses, authentically,
we even lap milk from
ceramic bowls, bellies swollen from
the orders we give: 'emily, you're the
Get us more milk.'
She hates serving us, she's only four
but she's getting strong and someday
she'll earn predator status.
(give thanks that we do not consume you, emily,
your fingers peek through the cagebars and
they are white and young and blood
is sweeter than breastmilk)
Roar. We are learning to growl
I tried to wrestle littlesister but we collided with
Nanny's gnarled sandalfeet and
So am I, Nanny.
I am a lioness today and I
Sarah tosses her mane and I explain patiently (she's only six) that lionesses are free,
don't need manes to chase antelopes
she's too young to care
if her imagination grants her maned masculine lion
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