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Literature Text
There is a place where no one knows,
Where fireflies live and nature wildly grows,
It is magnificent,
beyond these trees,
I'd take you there,
But I can't you see,
This is a place that can only exist,
If it is left alone to grow in bliss,
I yearn to show and long to share,
But I cannot bring myself to take you there,
The musings of such a splendorous display,
will urge you to amuse others this way,
The wild of this brilliance may come to extinction,
So this Midnight Stroll I must keep within.
Where fireflies live and nature wildly grows,
It is magnificent,
beyond these trees,
I'd take you there,
But I can't you see,
This is a place that can only exist,
If it is left alone to grow in bliss,
I yearn to show and long to share,
But I cannot bring myself to take you there,
The musings of such a splendorous display,
will urge you to amuse others this way,
The wild of this brilliance may come to extinction,
So this Midnight Stroll I must keep within.
Literature
Darkness
The pitter-patter of raindrops on cobblestones
when walking alone, engrossed in your memories,
your thoughts condescend behind you like a
narcissistic parent.
Vision changes, perspectives are skewed
downwards. A skeptical outlook becomes
a recording in your mind; when does it stop?
How do I get to this moment? Where did
I fucked up?
A flash of gunpowder, the mind lights up like
for the one instant where you felt hope. You
had an answer, but the voices keep coming;
smothering, snuffing; the fire is gone
and I'm suffering in silence.
Literature
Metus
One flat night, the wind stilled itself like a breath held in the worst kind of anticipation; the moment when you realize, too late, that everything has gone wrong with every carefully laid plan. Every alibi come to naught in the face of something far too dark to even be given shape: gloried in the feverish tongues of those men who spread their crazed scripture to those who pass beneath their perches just out of reach.
Fear.
The word dances across the lips of the multitudes, washing away serenity and sense, slathering a coat of ashen sludge across our hearts and burrowing into the mind like some virulent maggot, squirming for that last litt
Literature
to become nothing
Nameless, faceless plague,
Thickly seeping into a cracked vessel,
Imbibing every cirrus, every eager breath.
The sludge trudges,
The Black contracts, bereaved,
The verdant grid, relieved
The sluggish spell begins to quell
Ardor,
Now only a whimper on fragile lips
Nameless, faceless plague
Swelling in congruence with every slower swipe
Maneuvering the psychic climate
Into Barrenness.
The Black is marvelously alluring,
She charms only genuine energies, vexes them.
She works against the Organic propulsion
Whose effort honors
boundless proliferation
Nameless, faceless plague
Abiding in once animate ducts (shrinking and vascular)
Clogging and
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inspired by Midnight Stroll by Modernerd [link]
I loved his art so much I asked if I could use it as an inspiration, this is where it lead me...
I loved his art so much I asked if I could use it as an inspiration, this is where it lead me...
© 2012 - 2024 Cinders8328
Comments5
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This is very well written. And I mean... I loved it! The start is good, the shorter sentences had me a LIL wondering where you were going but when you reached:
..."this is a place that can only exist..."
I was like... this is wonderful.
The theme is beautiful and the way you presented it makes it even more beautiful! both the artists work and poets work match!
..."this is a place that can only exist..."
I was like... this is wonderful.
The theme is beautiful and the way you presented it makes it even more beautiful! both the artists work and poets work match!