Tag Archives: dark poetry

The memory of pain

Posted in Poetry English by
2-15_pain

Pain does not end when the wounds heal. Instead, it survives as memory, breathing through regret.

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The memory of pain perhaps causes more pain,

when all was exposed, an artery and a vein

The exposed nerves kissed the cruel air;

while the dark, flowing blood, left a stain

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The memory of pain is walking the road of regret;

each step burdensome — breath, blood and sweat

Kicking small clouds, dust of old guilt,

the downward journey is certain and all set

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The memory of pain is smelling the stink of loss;

the rainclouds have long gone, as speaks the moss

The body breathes on, drawing in the poison;

soul becomes the victim and is hanged on the cross

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The memory of pain is an assault on the senses,

the heart is filled with misery, thinking of pretences

All exposures and encounters, victory of the ego;

the eyes fill with tears, surrendering all defences

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The memory of pain is what keeps some alive;

breathing and moving, trying to survive

With each dawn, there is hope, salvation or damnation;

the wait is balanced delicately on the edge of a knife

Confession of a Rotten Soul (Previously, So dark is my soul)

Posted in Poetry English by
dark-soul-3-artwork

Not redemption. Not forgiveness. Only brutal self-awareness.

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark,

that angels borrow ink to write down my sins

Light shies away, avoiding all corruption,

while virtue stays silent, very rarely it wins

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark,

that I can hear my guilt, singing cold lullabies

Pushing me off precipices to a frozen end,

my regret laughs with coldness in its eyes

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark,

that I can hear my sins whispering their madness

Smothering my conscience to a suffocating end,

my remorse weeps bitterly in utter sadness

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark,

that I can hear my own fears, and their banshee screams

Choking my resolve to a pitifully miserable end,

the nightmares rule the night instead of the dreams

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark;

my goodness was a tactic to avoid eternal damnation

The cruel demons of judgment smiled with glee,

seeing my kindness as a path to eternal salvation

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark;

love was just a great delusion of pure grandeur

Humility was a disguise to hide the cold arrogance,

and compassion — a weakness, and selfish pleasure

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So dark is my soul — it is so damn dark;

I worry what will become of it in the end

Its darkness cannot be remedied,

and its rotten nature, no one can mend

Me and the Devil, Walking Side by Side

Posted in Poetry English by
hannibalmanstag

What if the Devil was never evil—only loyal, misunderstood, and condemned?

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Me and the devil,

walking side by side

Me, the eager follower,

and him, the patient guide

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“Disobedience and arrogance?

Why, when you were His chosen?

Deviance and decadence?

Why, when you showed no cozen?”

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“Disobedience?”

The lightning flashed,

and in his eyes, a dark anger lashed

“It was always my plan,

not bowing to you, a helpless man”

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“Arrogance?”

The thunder boomed,

he whispered deeply and presumed

“It was always the obscurity,

my purity and your impurity”

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“Deviance?”

The wind screamed,

and his eyes darkly gleamed

“It was my sincere intention, and the one true path,

inviting His immense fury, His infinite wrath”

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“Decadence?”

The sky wept and went suddenly dark,

his smile grew wider, and there was a spark

“It was always the intention,

my love and my obsession”

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I understand all,

I comprehend all,

The agony of love,

misunderstood and rejected

The burden of loyalty,

a soul, broken and dejected

Where is that Sweet, Sad Place where Elephants go to Die?

Posted in Poetry English by
elephant-kenya-340364

A journey into the mythic graveyard of memories, guilt, and dreams that refuse to die.

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Where is that sweet and sad place,

perhaps lost forever in both time and space,

upon the brazen earth and under the grey sky,

where elephants go to die?

Strength and might sometimes fail,

in the face of raging fire, rain and hail

Failure exhausts the strongest of souls,

when we repeatedly fail to achieve our goals

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Where is that dark and cold womb,

devoid of all life, it’s really a tomb,

when one fails each challenge and test,

where worries finally come to rest?

Worries, which were once peacefully silent,

but now extending their tentacles, cruel and violent

My worries are not making a submissive bow,

my worries are kicking and screaming now

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Where is that vast desolation of heart,

where the sun never shines as the clouds do not part,

where all of us are destined to be, the fools and the clever, 

where dead love breathes its last and rests forever?

Memories, which were once pretty and colourful,

but now have haunting eyes, dull and dreadful

Memories are not compelling me to make a new vow,

my memories, are dead and only skeletons now

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Where is that unfathomably deep, black hole,

which silences all greed, and the dreams it once stole,

where regrets crawl and plead infernally,  

where guilt is finally dead and is buried eternally?

Guilt, once a rare acquaintance and even a stranger,

it was a horse called Diablo, without a ranger

My guilt is watching me with a frowned brow,

my guilt is a monster, a menacing presence now

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I fear their accusations, their dead, hollow stare,

the evil was afar, yet somewhere close here

I loathe their presence and hold onto my spear,

the damnation was afar, yet somewhere so near

My anguish and my fear, I scream and I mumble,

my agony and my dread, I run and I stumble

I scream and I run, I make a final try,

to reach that place where elephants go to die

Chronicles of a Pessimistic Optimist

Posted in Poetry English by
anti-inflammatory-diet-for-depression-1200x675

Between hope and despair lies a grey hall filled with regret and guilt.

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I have always been a pessimist and also an optimist;

my life is a grey hall, filled with a rainbow mist

My past had been dark, and my future seemed so bright;

the night had been dead, but I said, long live the light

Yet my thoughts had been honest and so very true;

my mood had always been the darkest hue of blue

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I push open the window and scrutinize my past;

I recall everything clearly, the first and the last

I see so many butterflies riding the sunbeams;

some ugly and the others pretty - nightmares and dreams

The womb was very warm, and it was so secure;

but the shelter was a curse when the doom seemed sure

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My memories, when I open the old, musty book;

time had passed so fast, like a fast-flowing brook

Faces and images always passed by in a hurry;

my nostalgia was always chaos, even the chaos was blurry

Within this chaos, bitter conflict had always been a must;

all the treacheries of life and only a little bit of trust

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I have been the prophet of hope and a seer of visions;

but my regret is so bitter for all the bad decisions

The wounded birds, I always made them fly again;

but each time they left a parting gift - a cold pain

I cannot be a savior; it was just a false belief;

there was no pleasure in the pain, just cold, dark grief

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I treaded new paths, and also the dark forbidden places;

roaming in the spirit of adventure, leaving dark traces

Sin appeared to be the wisdom, and virtue seemed bland;

the sense of curiosity kept on burning and was so grand

Desire was the clear water, regret was the muddy silt;

but I always paid the price in the soiled coins of guilt

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Desires were sirens, they bewitched and seduced;

wishes were the flames, but to dust they were reduced

Hope always lived on, but she is a devious bitch;

and disappointment has been so abundant and rich

Wisdom came leisurely; it danced a slow waltz;

the pessimism was true; the optimism was always false

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Life is always a glass half-filled; it is quite right;

darkness always sighs with a promise so bright

Sorrows and joys in a long and tiring queue;

but more of the former than the latter, it’s also true

Within each light, resides a dark shadow;

perched on every tower of hope is a black crow