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Literature
Summoning
Oh, I welcome thee, sweet suffering
with open arms and hollow stare
for I mourn do not on this summoning
but devotion I to you declare.
Oh, crisp beauty of sweet torment
guide me into vaults of heartlessness
to sink my soul in deepest lament
and calmly stroke the nothingness.
For I shall bow to you in cold obedience
on which you thrive, wicked and hidden
and the joy of pure deliverance
I am solely and eternally forbidden.
And then at night I see your vivid face
deceived I am not but filled with fright
for I know thy face and its grim grimace
as death slowly takes you out of sight
So I welcome thee, sweet suffering
with open arms and pains to bear
as I grieve do not on this summoning
but defeat I to you declare.
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Literature
My Tower In The Sky
   My Tower In The Sky
Is made of broken, bitter tears
is made of scattered dreams
which raven weaves like beams
in my tower forsaken for years
high in the clouds I look down
while the winds gush in my ears
grief they bring in a quiet frown
in my tower forsaken for years
and a crescent dies in a cloud
with face burried in solid pain
cries echo in a raven shroud
distant orisons I hear again
then the eventide draws near
hollow stars gather'd once more
the raven's weaved tears, so clear
in my tower deafened by caws
in my tower with carrion walls
I wrap in cerements the day
until my very last tear falls
on those mortals' faces of clay
they're made of bitter tears
they're made of broken dreams
which raven weaves like beams
in my tower forsaken for years.
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Literature
Duchess 'Ashen Hair'
In the veil of dusk we gathered
bound to find the winding way
with spirits yet not shattered
we roamed the mound astray
and breaths of frosty vapour
crawled before our eyes
shades to wake the Maker
were slowly menacing in size
my hunt was getting tired
and the grass began to sting
will-o'-the-wisps were fired
an' leaden hearts began to sink
we knew her hidden abodes
we knew she waits in solitude
relentless would be the assaults
she rancorously contribute
my hunt was getting frightened
and the trees began to scorn
the arcane kept us lightened
as I longed for monarch dawn.
In the courtyard I left my men
and grasped my chest displeased
with lanterns flicking like a gem
their footsteps echoed an' ceased
and then I climbed those stairs
the oblivious stairs of nothingness
and then I reached those lairs
her lairs of endless morbidness
the duchess awaited me to meet
quiet broke to mortifiy the way
she was gaining scorn to proceed
her apparition was floating astray
ashes were her hairs and face
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Literature
The self - devoured Heart
It beckons from the inside
the heart filled with gore
it sickens from the dim light
a heart in rotting core
it pounds inside a hollow
the heart drowned in tar
the ooze that drops is sorrow
a heart with blacken'd scar
I beckon from the last pit
the heart that waits to perish
a chest is torn and bare slit
by heart, cold and hellish
I beat inside a death shell
it pounds to split apart
it gorge alive its own cell
my self' - devoured heart.
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Literature
Checkmate in the Vestry
The lonely twilight lastly arrived,
bearded, tired and cold,
the weary candles it placed aside
an' waited the night, dry and bald.
Time?
it was hard to tell the time
for all the clocks began to snore
and bells lulled a 'good-night' chime
quiet and dark cuddled on the floor...
only...
behind one Romanesque door,
inside the minster's old vestry,
a royal folk disturbed the night
with cups of spirit, plates of pastry,
indecent slang and bleary sight...
'Clink!' (full glasses) -
'splash!' (deep pitchers),
cheered hoarse features
and the folk themselves:
a rook with a crimson crown,
another one with a coronet horn
a bishop in a dowdy gown,
and a short scar-faced pawn.
Absinthe poured into every goblet,
swung the air in forgotten fable,
smoke arose, green and morbid,
to infuse their chequered table,
'joyous tears' (laughter and chokes)
'gulp, gulp!' (down dry throats)
a growl and a spill 'drop, drop, drop...'
The pawn quietly spoke:
'Her Grace left her door to sway
and took the key from the l
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Literature
Timeless Iconic Art
Ages of sadness flow into me
ages of mercy weep to be...
aeons of love moan to be free
my aeons of hatred I gave to thee...
I will erase my soul,
even if I have a thousand lives to spend
I will wander through the ashes of light
even if I lose myself forever in the dark
gods are silent, demons sleep...
I will walk heartless above the abyss
even if I have a thousand tears to give
I will reach the mournful gates
even if I am cursed by a thousand fates
I will engrave on the perished portal
with bleeding hands: 'Art Is Immortal'
arcane lips, a broken arch...
I will succumb your fading shadow
even if I lose all my thousand hallows
I will appear as a tranquil pilgrim
blessed forever with a dying sin
in the depths of your morbid voice
even if I've buried a thousand joys
gods hurt, demons ache...
from my pains and my plague
I will fly soulless above the abyss
with the thousandth suffering bliss.
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Literature
Scars of Today,Pains of Morrow
Thrown in the ashes of the past
in holiness I once stole
in darkness I once reached
fools of demise insanity preach
my entity is a worn out whole
now a foul mask I only wear,
                                   at last.
Present now speaks to me
with a voice of a fading light
with a voice of a forlorn call
and blind love depraved us all
sacred tears still burn inside
I walk with cold sore feet
                         but free.
Born today, the cradle bled
hands of sins caressed my hair
lips of hatred kissed mine
deceit quietly sits in my shrine
in the dirt I reveal an hallowed lair -
a place to worship,
               &
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Literature
A Clutch of Death - Pt. 2
III
Manton arrived at exactly 5 pm at the threshold of his cousin's mid-eighteenth century house. He was about to ring on the bell, when a sudden feeling of faintness blindfolded his vision. Weakness seized his whole posture. He gasped for air; for a gulp of living air. It felt like his chest was squeezed by two giant iron arms. Almost paralysed Manton could not inhale. Then the nausea crawled upon him and everything he was seeing and hearing was blackness. His rested his body on the door while his lungs were still gasping for breath. The next second a strong wind flashed by and swung the two lanterns: the only source of light brightening the threshold. With firmly closed eyes, Manton thought he was in one of his tricky dreams. No sooner than this thought faded away, the creaky door opened and the shiny face of his cousin popped out. The moment Manton glanced his cousin's face, he felt indescribably relieved. The pains ceased; the vice in his chest released its choking grip.
'Blackensb
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Literature
A Clutch of Death - Pt. 1
I
Manton climbed the stairs and stropped to take a deep breath. He had to climb seven floors of this old building just to realise that his auntie, to which he was was going, was living on the fifth floor. These things happen when you feel distracted by different random thoughts. You forget on which floor you have to stop and ring the bell.
Two minutes later Manton was standing a front of a huge wooden door with rusty locks. He rang on the bell twice.
'Manton, my dear! I was expecting you a bit later.' exclaimed his auntie when she opened the heavy door. She was coquettishly smiling and her face glowed with surprise. She always looked like this when a young gentleman was standing a front of her; be it her nephew or some stranger she had just met in the 'Black Ducks' club.
'Auntie Clara, so nice to see you! Your eyes sparkle as always.' He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek. Her face became all rosy. His auntie Clara was not that that old as you might think she was. No, she was in h
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Literature
Berry Pomeroy Castle
Up the wooded valley hill
a sudden chill grabs your feel
chill in a ruined shape,
it stands waiting, black and still
your self-control it tries to kill
up, up the castle gate.
Uneasiness from you isolate
no one will join you this late
... this time of night,
the fright rises, it's only eight
empty windows hush and hate
... not a speck of light.
It is Berry's imminent sight
close your eyes or fear will ignite
... the senses freeze,
do not seek a place to hide
for all the shadows hold you tight
... visions not at ease.
Dungeon holes begin to seize
will their quiet ever cease
up, up the ruined hill,
did you enjoy the morbid peace
Berry likes your sane to tease
up into the castle chill.
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Literature
She Is His Queen of Dark
Silence in my ears, soundless void
the lands before me sleep and rot
I sit and wait, I have waited too long
distant winds play a grotesque song
a lost wind is my tortured mind
phantoms smile of most horrific kind
a shape lingers on the cloistered path
I've made a vow to her, so she hath
I have done the deed, I still wait
he lies 'neath a mud-stained crape
the chill bites me more and more
cold licks my lips like a lusty whore
it is midnight and she hasn't arrived
sightless shades my tears dried
the thoughts of you help me forget
the cello that plays is for the dead
it's after 12, the owl looks into my eyes
formless clouds creep upon the skies
the cold blade I feel inside my heart
you're finally here, my queen of dark.  
~ Epilogue ~
Silence in her ears, soundless void
the graves before her sleep and rot
she calmly sits, she's waited too long
her cello plays a triumphant song.
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Literature
Morose and Smiling
Hey, you... the stranger in black clothes,
turn around so I can see you face
are you here to greet my sore embrace
or to sew my lips with a solemn lace?
I have waited for your grim draught
to breathe behind my sullen back
I came to see the cold in your eyes
and hear the vastness in my cries.
It is I... the mourner in long raven hair
the one you chose to ever feel despair
the one you gave a golden chalice
but porous it was, tasted of malice.
Now you remember me, your face froze
in your hollow orbs now hatred flows
it is you... the wretch with silver rings
your smile that make my heart sinks.
You... the bitter jester with no remorse
the one who draws anguish so close
I look at you and the mirror froze
it is I.... the stranger in black clothes.
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Literature
The Demon - Sikh
His mystical journey has begun
signless dusty path with no return
he came from the beds of hell
from the cold void we'll soon dwell
his mystical journey has now begun
through the arches of a dying sun.
He came here to learn from humans
then to bring the souls he summons.
He ascended from the ashes of pain
where men once lost their sane
he still resents the crippled skies -
the lair of angelic distorted cries.
He would rest on ruined graves
while dark creeps upon the haze
he wanders the earth unseen
he suffers the earth unclean
he would sleep on eroded altars
once stained by bleeding mortals
he walks among petty lives
in solitude that none deprives
he roamed weary paths awaken
he climbed pillars forsaken
his memories still burn inside -  
unwiped tears that once died.
He travelled far among contempt
and sang a song of deep lament
he was here to learn from humans
and bring the souls he summons
they bow and betray with drained hearts
mortals - sad remnants of fallen stars.
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Literature
A Quilt of Autumn Leaves
Одеяло от Есенни Листа
Да се разходим в есенна дъбрава,
в мрак постлан от тишина,
да стоплим почвата, корава
с изморена, тленна ледина.
Да се загърнем с полъх на листа,
с п
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Literature
In Baba Yaga's House
In blackest corners of the wood
her reddest whispers quietly lurk
she spells and chants, she awaits
blackberries intertwine in the shades
in the latest hours of the night
tinkling giggles echo from inside
she entices and hides, she lures
in a quench that only pain cures.
~~~~~~~~~~
The first night...
I secretly sneak at half past three
hid behind a very frightened tree
a White Rider approaches her house
she beckons in sweet wicked gowns
her eyes sparkle in unearthly delight
White Rider will never outlive the night.
The second night...
I hold my breath in ghoulish dense
hid behind the old Tudor fence
a Red Rider opens the rusty door
she lies craving on the silver floor
her fiendish sighs the air adorn
Red Rider will never greet the dawn.
The third night...
through the low window I peep inside
hid behind my very dreadful fright
a Black Rider kisses her wet lips
into his blood her tongue dips
her yearning mates like a snake
Black Rider will never again awake....
~~~~~~~~~~
In deserted cor
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Literature
The Affinity of God
I was waking down the street and my ears were screaming from pain. I tried to explain myself why the presence of time was missing today.
'Maybe because I am distracted with so many thoughts.' This answer did not give me any comfort nor relaxed my scattered feelings. I stopped and took a deep breath.
'Do I have to pass by it?'
'Yes, you have to.' the voice in my head answered.
I stopped in front of the cathedral. I had told myself so many times not to look at it and quickly pass by but I could not resist not to lift my weary eyes upon it.
'Perfection' was the first and only word I murmured.
It felt like the cathedral was mocking me, whispering how pathetically mortal I was. The building was rising up the stellar background of the sky like a colossus. Not a single ray of light was coming out of it. Proud and unreachable, only the cathedral could admire the bright stars in the sky. I could read 'might', 'superiority', 'greatness' and 'awe' on every window and arch my eyes laid upon. It wa
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Lora-I
Лора
United Kingdom
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violet-pain Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2015
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