Chains so weaved like silent comfort

Tighten they do when the bonds

Of life force the realisation its time

Time to move on to the abyss

So blue vertigo holds illusions

Never ending void

Twisting turning nothing but emptiness

Sweet the embarrassing moment

Where hearts are given

Only the fools heart would believe

Cheapened again by the fickle nature

Of emotions so enraptured by bliss

Where for art thou? Though the reality

What reality is beset upon a heart

That foolishly walks amongst the thorns

Martyrdom is all that is left

Bleed well dear child

For you foolishly believe this is your path

Fall at the feet of the chains

You so wrapped willingly upon your throat

Where will you find solace upon the barren land

How sweet the blood that runs through veins

Come now the silence beckons

Not thought but the comforting nothing

Beckons forward

Through the light dark desert sun moon

The soul travels forward

Finding comfort in endless void

Soul tormented by foolish desires

Embarrased by where they let the heart go

Cheapended by needless searching

When all that stood before

Always was

Right before the very eyes

That first beheld one

In such wonder and need

To the depths the soul returns

The comfort of the chains they thought broken

Slithering clincking with the familiar sound

Chains so weaved like silent comfort


The Mirror

Hear my calling,
my shreaks poetically bleak as a deserted
windswept post- apocalyptic harbour at dead of night
Life weary yet half whispered recitations,
horridly and esquisitely pale and yet tragic as a
virgin suicide…

My calls are a oddity to you whose bleak sincerity is rarely in doubt
but which hits those dark notes more sporadically
than it ought…..

Ancient sorrows audible for all anew,
to hinder your windswept mind…
Black wings they flutter severed

clumsily mimicing like

that of old mythological beasts
nothing escapes
my expressionistic eyes in this twilight enigma….

I gaze upon you all in wonder
what ever are you doing
sinister destruction of this LOVE we have I call my own….
The all-encompassing sense of a miserable within,this loneliness
is overpowering and overfearing yet you do not see…

Should I sweep to far away lands
save myself but not least
& leave this place and to my own demise and destruction
evaporating the mundane and placeing you in
the midst of a serious medieval crossfire,my
blood on the land, sweet bliss I do taste
these black wings shall flutter with disgrace & sadness…




~ by turukai on September 26, 2011.

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