Tag Archives: inner darkness

A Dialogue with the Darkness (Previously, the Darkenss Within)

Posted in Poetry English by

When the self turns inward, the sharpest blade is awareness.

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I want a sharp knife;

the sharpest of all I have ever seen in this life

A knife with an ivory grip and a gleaming edge;

engraved with obscure ruins, carrying a death pledge

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I want to plunge it into my belly;

slicing it across, all through the quivering jelly

Cutting open myself and savoring the soothing pain;

smelling the oozing blood and enjoying the red rain

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The steaming guts will spill out;

and so will the coldness, without a doubt

I want to confront the coldness under my skin;

I so want to face the raging darkness within

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I want to feel their texture and what makes up my core;

the ice-cold mercury seeping out of each pore

I so want to sense their force, so binding and so freeing;

their powerful darkness vibrating in my being

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I want to question them all, the unanswered queries;

hanging in balance, the forever silent juries

I want to challenge them all, the reservoirs of valor;

forever loud but hollow, the reds masking my pallor

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Why do you reside within me?

Perhaps two despising lovers smiling with glee?

Or are you sent by my respectful adversaries,

not really bothered, and just two emissaries?

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

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