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AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming arms of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment I didn't hear you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along
Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for? 
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude
False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days, 
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be 
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen
ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).
False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.
False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for
VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire
Lovers and assassinsNight
walk
WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are 
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.
bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.
HumanDear Hypocrite,

 What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

 Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

 What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

 What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

 
Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.
Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.
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More from ~CaptainOzz

I can't danceThe beats of the song you gave me
pulse through my head,
no idea why they remind me of you,
you sent me this, unknowing I'd like it.

It reminds me of you,
I can see your lithe body
contorting with the music,
the moves they call dance.

I can't but watch you dance,
even through my minds eye
you're enticing me,
again.

Dance for me,
swing your hips
and stare into my eyes,
dance closer to me
glide across the dancefloor
toward me as I shake my head

"No, love, you know I can't,
don't make me-
stop, you're making me blush,
stop it,
stop it!

Oh please, gods this is so embarrassing..."

I can't dance,
I try for you though.
I
Doomsday sun
Burning doomsday.
the sun veils all and nothing,
blinded stumble onward,
nothing seems brighter,
doomsday.

End of you, I,
doomsday sun burning, blackened.

See how we make amends,
amends for the end,
as we fear judgement.

What have you done you must cry for?
What have you done you must regret?
What have you done you must repay?

Think of your sins and repent, remember, repent.

Make amends for your end is soon.

Burning bright doomsday sun
sheds light on all you do.
Leaves nothing covered,
weight of their deeds
cripples those who're wrong.
Scars shine in the sunbeams
as nothing is left unseen.

Doomsday sunflares and judgem
Dark, park -the beginning-
Twas one of those nights you know,
the kind that never end
I say night,
of course, I mean evening.
Night is seldom coming these days.
It is always evening.
So, this eve' I went for a stroll
down to the park,
dark, park as it was evening.
Not the night, that seldom comes.

A raven flew, over dark, park, my head.
Quoth the raven, nothing at all.
Nothing but an old cliche I'd heard before.

I sang as I walked, sang to the dark, park & nothing at all.
I wasn't singing tunefully at all,
just dark, park and nothing at all.

I strode through the dew drop grass,
evening, not night.
My footprints left nothing at all
not a goodbye.

I
Goodbye...You'd gone for so long,
I found a picture I did for you
It suddenly hit me,
where are you?
I wondered.

So I sought you out
Took one look at where you should be
and you're not there.

You're not anywhere anymore.

You'd died and no one told me
The pain, he said, was enough to send you across.

I hope you went in peace, at least.

I hadn't seen you for so long,
I expected some happy smiling words
meeting of a long lost friend.

We'd talk about where we'd gone,
what we'd done and catch up again,
laugh about old times gone.
Now it's you that's gone.
I'll miss the smile,
the laughter I brought you.

At least I know you were happy.
And everything turned to stone
I've felt this atropine feeling for a long time now
everything is slowing down, becoming heavier
just want to stop.

Stop what I'm doing, stop everything.

As my world turns to stone.

I'll become another druid stone,
a long lost sun-caught troll,
one part of a ruined holy temple,
or another rock tossed into the ocean.

May be carelessly stood out too long,
sun ray touch solidify.

May be worshipped and tall,
bow to my apparent power.

May be a memory of purity,
lost to an angry unbeleiver.

May ripple along the sea-bed,
aimless and free, rolled by the waves.

Anything, atropine.

And everything turned to stone
and everything ceases
Metaphor
The garden, we carelessly planted
will never bloom, nor grow.
The seeds we'd sown in love
were wasted.
Dried brown death rot dead gardens wither.
Nothing was to be of our garden.

Our carefully nurtured love
ended much the same.
The carrion birds swooped down
and carried our fledgling love away
to feast on its carcass,
to tear away our nurturing,
after our love had died.

Love between us, in any metaphor, is dead.

The deep silent black velvet swath,
spread between us once seemed viable,
now unfathomable, never was possible.
How we wanted to be together then,
the separation hardly bearable
now it seems inadequate to keep us a

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[x]

Just not me, is it.

:iconcaptainozz:

I see you stood there
when it all comes crashing down
on your green eyes, your red hair
and your long lost heart.

Maybe I should feel bad for you
or for what I did,
but it's just that I don't.

I hear you now and that age old line;
"I'm an actress, a writer and a singer on the side."
You're up and down and everywhere in between.

Has dawn finally broken for you?
Or have you just broken again?

Twice strained chai stains teeth once white,
dreaming of my cigarette smoke.

And here I sit,
I suppose I should say sorry
But I see again
that it's just not me, is it.

I suppose you know your future,
but hey, you don't want to know.

You read them tarot cards,
you pseudo goth,
and you didn't like what you saw.

Hangman, tragedy, princes & stranger.
Celestial eyes just forgot to shine.

I suppose this will make you cry again.
Cry and I should be sad,
but then again it's too cold for tears
or maybe I'm just not that nice anyway.
:iconcaptainozz:
For once, I'm not being kind.
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:icondancing-naked:
~Dancing-Naked Dec 1, 2006   General Artist
I sit here missing dream land and you

reading the words you hang here trying to find something ... so far I've read a good deal ... but this ...

this one has spark in it - maybe because you wheren't being nice.

Work that touches.

I enjoyed being touched by your words.

-K-
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:iconrandomgoth:
Mood: Zest ~RandomGoth Sep 30, 2006  Hobbyist General Artist
Some times you just have to give it to people straight. There is a time and a place for subtle hints but then there is a time for being blunt. Beautifully written. Hmmm wish I could think of some Advanced Critique for you but my poetry skills aren't quite as developed as yours...and I'm blowed if I can pick fault.
Blessed Be.
RandomGoth
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:iconcojjinsecrets:
~Cojjinsecrets Sep 27, 2006
the truth hurts. sometimes people get fed up with the same old shit and it becomes time to move on. thats what i gett from this peice.
good job!
Reply
:iconhiddendusk:
!HiddenDusk Sep 27, 2006
The stanzas are a bit too split apart. But as for it conveying your true feelings, A+ sweetie. :headbang:
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:iconredwombat:
~RedWombat Sep 27, 2006
Being mena is another way of bveing kind. Sometimes you can't be kind anymore. There's a point at which it's too much to think of everyone else all the time.

'but then again it's too cold for tears
or maybe I'm just not that nice anyway.' - a wonderful set of lines there.

Too cold for tears....
Reply
:iconredwombat:
~RedWombat Sep 27, 2006
*mean :paranoid:
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:iconthe-last-stanza:
~The-Last-Stanza Sep 27, 2006
:) me like this, i've always liked poems where objects/ images of someones personality are used. Sometimes being nice becomes a drag.
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:iconmadles:
!MadLes Sep 27, 2006
lighten up ozz and write something cheerful
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:iconmadles:
Mood: Love !MadLes Sep 28, 2006
meh ,love you to :glomp: i miss you !
Reply
:iconcaptainozz:
~CaptainOzz Sep 27, 2006
No. :p
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