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Enigma of 21st StreetAmid the misty times of lore
Do I offer a boon to thirsty travelers by
As they proceed upon their course
That takes them along the path of this haunting shore.

As I peer thy eyes into fog's veil so I see
A man, a nobleman on his fine steed approaching me;
I look upon his face - thirsty does he seem to be,
How gracefully shall I offer him this golden cup with glee.

The nobleman on his sallow steed before me towers
As he looks upon me with those confused and mighty eyes,
His rising stature beholding me a sign of his status and power
But his status shan't grant quarter for his howler.

I offer him what he desires most,
Though I see his hesitatEnigma of 21st Street3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Beast I AmI am of the woods; of nature. I am of the wilderness and it’s mysteries. I am of the dirt, the rot, and death. I am of a different time a different place not heard or seen. I am of the call of the beasts which I so call myself.
And with the dawning of the darkest night, I spread my wings.Beast I Am5 days ago in Concrete Poetry

Before YouEmpty
Torn
Alone
Walking straight and narrow roads
Leading nowhere

Brother
Father
Teacher-Friend
Who never came around
Never seemed to care

Blind
Deaf
Dumb
Stumbling through the silent darkness
Unaware

Was there life
Light
Hope
Before your touch, or was I simply
Unprepared?

Flames
Wind
Song
Gifts you waited all that time
Just to share

Adventure
Changes
Movement
All the mischief I could manage
If I dared

I didn’t know what I was missing till you came
Now, caught forever in my Trickster’s many games
I only know I’ll never, ever be the sameBefore You3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Choose a life:Poem for alexanderjohn77(Haiku)
Kick,kick kick a sound.
Yellow beak peaks out for all.
A blue egg nested.

(Cinquain)
Life
Strong core
Burning up diamonds
Cutting through heart strings
Life

(Acrostic)
Easing a sack out of the womb.
Laughter left after a headache or two.
Eat ice cream on a picnic.
MOM!DAD LEFT THE SEAT UP AGAIN!
Erasing mistakes on an important test.
NEIN! A German word for no. NO WAY DID I GET IN?!
Traveling through roads,miles away to the start a life.Choose a life:Poem for alexanderjohn771 month ago in Concrete Poetry

Past, the Mysterious WitchPast, the Mysterious Witch

It'll tell you what you come from, what you want to know.
But with a arrow of mystery it'll still strike you with it's mysterious bow.
For this reason we dwell on our past
To get the message we want so very fast.
We try to find better answers in song or writing.
Some sort of hidden message, even through fighting
But the truth is, our past has a very obvious message
Hidden under our nose
The past is what defines us
But how it defines us can be as spread out as a shot from a blunderbuss
So to keep everything simple and clear
The past is something that teaches, not something to fear
You learn from the past so you don'Past, the Mysterious Witch2 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

AsymptoteI can't take my eyes off of you
Your presence expands beyond the sea
of chaos and all the veils of doubt
That hang across reality

I want to breathe you in
And take your spirit into mine
And succumb to the call of your voice
Beyond the base and the divine

You shine brightest when your mind unfolds
You carry all the dancing sparks
Of life so brilliant that existence cannot grasp
Their asymptotes and their arcs

But I couldn't find you
And you wouldn't be found...
And I couldn't hold you
Before the world drowned...
The echoes have long faded
Yet your sound still remains
Though Fate is orchestrated
You somehow broke away

The ground trembles Asymptote3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

I Blended In Too LongI start every day just the same
Moon and sun and stars
All stay and then fade away
My clothes are nothing short
Of the mundane and casual
My hair is ever changing
As the wind in the trees
My beliefs remain today
But more have strayed away
When they hear my voice

I blended in too long
Conformed to the environment
I wanted to stand out
As soon as my colors shined
Something had started to change

They have strayed from my company
Divided among others
Believed I was a vibrant chameleon
Surmised I was a roaring lion
Forcing them to follow my lead
Now I'm a stranger
No longer with the familiar
Guess that what happens
When you blend in too long

I I Blended In Too Long3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Steal no more.You steal from me.
You suck me dry.
You sicken me.
With your lie.

You show no mercy.
You only need gain.
With darkness you go.
Causing more pain.

You suffered me much.
Agony I was in.
Pain drenched in arrows.
Of your sin.

Why must you hate me?
What did I do?
Why victimize?
have you suffer too?

Why do I pity?
Why do I care?
Why must you anger me?
This just isn't fair.

Change your ways.
Stop this wrong
Know that it's evil.
Your merciless song.Steal no more.1 month ago in Concrete Poetry

What this world will never deserveStalking,
Always being unobserved,
While smiling
She's the thing this world will never deserve.

She's sick and unhealthy, but she never stops,
Never giving up,
She'll stay the ultimate runner
For her dreams, until her legs collapse.

Why, this is something you can't understand,
Hit with rocks, beaten up by words,
This spirit won't fall
It will never meet the ground.

She is imperfect but she touches the skies,
The final fighter for her rights.
She appears in my dreams,
She's what one day, I have to achieve.What this world will never deserve1 month ago in Concrete Poetry

Heaven's gateI awaken
I do not know where I am
Am I dead
Yes
For god has forsaken me
And I am in his grasp
Not yet
For there is a girl
And she is not with me
And I approach the gate and I find peter
And he says only for two
I am alone
I am one
I walk for Millennium
And suffer Satan's consequences
And I find another
And she is alone
And I ask
And she accepts
And we walk
And at the gate I find Peter
And he says only for two
And I accept
And we enter the eternal life togetherHeaven's gate2 days ago in Concrete Poetry

The Eye of the StormJust watch yourself,
torn by two worlds,
wanted by two sides.
You are wanted, desired, craved,
but also feared and denied.
A universe of doubt around you.

Imagine one side to be divine,
so holy, filled with light,
always ready, always helpful.
But the light they shine is blinding,
and makes you fail to see,
their subtle way of binding.

Then the other side,
is cold, haunting and pained.
No words, but deeds.
No doubts, but strength.
Harsh and to the point.
All alone, intimidating.

But you are stronger.
Stronger than love and hope
or the darkness unfold.
You wish both worlds,
and yet none at all.
Because you believe,
that power lies within.

The Eye of the Storm1 week ago in Concrete Poetry

The day I was bornI died on the day I was born
I had heaven, then I lost it.
I had God, and He had me,
until the day I fell to Earth
and lost all my memory.

I used to see my Dad each day
I know He loved to talk to me.
I know He had a lot to say
I miss all that I had to see.
I miss my place with Him.

When I was born, I came a corpse
compared to what I was before.
What kind of corpse can hope to f e e l ?
What kind of corpse can know the LORD?
What kind of corpse knows the deal
or knows what we’re reaching to w a r d ?

I died on the day I was born,
so why do I feel so alive?
Why, whThe day I was born1 week ago in Concrete Poetry

The Angle of DeathShe was the beacon of light that I had always dreamed she'd be. A woman so fierce, her fiery eyes glittering with pure damnation in the hot summer springs. Her reflection, a vague mist cast over the land in the manner of the vulture, encircling its lifeless prey. The depths of her being,a rare sight for the oblivious such as I. Her shadow fixated behind her eyes, two pools of radiating black aura, entrenching deep within my soul, now a chasm, such abysmal void molded around her dark and lustful desires. Her existence mirroring one of such ethereal definition. Her harrowing voice rings throughout the night, the siren's call, beckoning me near.The Angle of Death2 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Poor Dead GirlI wish to be whole once more

Instead of slipping through wooden doors

Wandering Mansions for hours and hours.

Slinking through towers and studying flowers.

I see you again, but for the first time in this life.

The joy I feel cannot be described.

I run up to you and attempt to hold your hand

But ... I just can't.

My hand passes right through.

Right through you.

And I feel your beating heart.

"My love!" I cry out.

But you don't hear a thing. Not a sound.

My home, Here it is!

I slip through the door and the memories rush back.

There's mama, and papa, and that loveable old cat.

I want to be with you

Do the things we used to do

IPoor Dead Girl2 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

the lightyou have a choice,
give to the light, or stay in darkness,
most chose darkness, and to some,
it over powers them, but some learn to control it,
but dose it mean they are sane, mabie,
but its all in vain, do they even have the sucurity to know,
whats right and whats wrong, who knows,
one thing i do know, is that light always shines through,
cause at one point in time, they did give to the light,
so the light gave backthe light2 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Slicing ShadowsLight
I have a light
Pulsating, coiling, striking
Fighting against the walls
Peering through crevices
Longing to be free

Light
It is a light
Dimming, sleeping, dying
Contained in the dark
Denied of its purpose
Weary of the wait.

Remember the light
It's a promise to keep
To peel off the layers
And let the sun seep.

Remember the light
It's voice and need
Uproot the fears
And burn its seeds.

Remember the light
Keep it aglow
For if it dies,
You die too.
Slicing Shadows3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Ronin3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

The Seven TaleThe Seven Tale

Seven miles away there is a stream of devotion so clear as day.
Nobody seems to know for what this river may take.
A ring, A necklase, A body...
perhaps.

Seven miles futher there is a pathway of clarity, so I pray
Nobody seems to know when this mountain will break.
A day, A decinia, never...
perhaps.

Seven miles later there is a track full of dreams, So it may.
Everybody seems to know that this alley is fake.
A dreamer, A relater, A poet...
perhaps.The Seven Tale3 weeks ago in Concrete Poetry

Windows to the Soul1 month ago in Concrete Poetry

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