Poems

ledworldnuke's picture

--Seventeen Candles--

Seventeen years, and seventeen cycles of fading sun
Candles lit for every knife ran through my chest
And every bottle of sin that I’d dare confess
Until the liquor runs to my head and vision spins while the words spill from my lips
Born kicking and screaming into the light
Young and hopeless with broken dreams, snow white hair and feeble frame
A meager toy for the catalyst life, dissolving in hysteria and open mind
For questions received banishment from the first house of the God
Bloody youthful children run from the prison of the young; the horror of ‘love’
The father bled, the father screamed
Alcohol dreams and fantasies to strike his love and receive a night alone with the pigs
Unfamiliar home for winters stay away from the drunken saint
The ceiling cried lady bugs and house screamed frigid taint
Mother mended or more so broke, returning to former home and hell
Time came and time went until the separation parted from her lips
Children stared, the oldest sighed, the youngest knew not, whilst the middle cried
Nights swept by and in the dead of chill the ‘Lady of the Lake’ spoke her will
A new home, one of warm walls and a lost smiling soul
The axe fell and the man died and cried and begged for his children had left
In wenches and whores he sought to love, each carcass darker than before
The ‘Lady’ spun and danced and entangled the ‘Horse Lord’
Who’s ‘Princes’ bid witness to the home atop the lake
Only to leave in dead of night, perhaps for lack of faith or lack of rice
Another love, one wrought in darkness from its birth
In death of the drowning drunk the next king called from the deck
The ‘Lady’ smiled and took the poor bastard and his ‘Princess’ in
Promises fell and veils were undone leaving only the black of the bitch, the ‘Princess’
Child of drugs, child of hell, child of taint and excess love with disturbing men
She broke the home, shot the arrow from her bow and struck the heart
Rending fell king and the ‘Lady’ from their arms, thank God
On stolen white chargers they left, though messages in wine jugs persist
Summer came and the white haired child had become of age
The forgotten father and his whore did turn their blades into his back
‘Disgusting’ the father had come to call his boy
And so the man became blind, deaf, and dumb to his father, hopefully until his death
Love stirred in passing summer sun
A lightning storm did give the lovers the dark to kiss and learn
The man fell, questioned, betrayed for lust perhaps, then returned
Lovers spoke final words which still cut like blades, for the wound goes deep
A song to remind them of the fall “I dare you to move

Comments

bibibutterfly's picture

Damn, these are bloody amazin

Damn, these are bloody amazing! You are an awesome awesome poet. these are really really good.

the world turns beneath my feet,
and only my breath is still,
in the living night.