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Right or Wrong
You're always strong
Yet barely even breathing....

Condemned, you fell
It's easy to tell
Pick up the peices to feed them.

TELL ME
The peices fit.
YOU'RE NOTHING
That I can't fix.

It's burning...
But I can hardly even tell...
The perfect little antidote
To your little spell.

Sear the flesh
And harden the eyes
To a world that you can't
COMPROMISE!


PROMISE ME
The world for ashes
EMPTY
Another promise lacking

WHY CAN'T WE
Escape from here
The monster within is only
Feeding your FEARS!

Through stitched lips
And swollen eyes...
For all the years...
Eating nothing but lies...

Coming to call...
Coming to call...
Anger is better than feeling nothing at all!

~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)

Thanks! I have two new poems that I wrote recently before this one...here they are:

PRETTY THINGS:

She seems dressed in...
All those pretty things....
All those pretty things...
That make her feel real.

She seems torn in...
All those pieces....
All those little pieces...
That can't be restored.

She seems faded...
In all those memories...
All those memories...
That can't be put together.

She seems shattered...
In all those rigid pieces...
In all those rigid pieces...
Because bleeding seems better.

All those pretty things
All those pretty things
Can't hold her now to this demise...
Because all those memories...
Yes all those memories...
Will never make her mine.

She's faded...
She's jaded...
But she doesn't really know...
Time wasted,
Memories faded
What is there to show?

Life ended...
Wounds mended...
Could never ease her pain.
Complicated
Torn, Jaded
Could never leave her sane.

And All the pretty things
All those pretty things
Can't hold her now to this demise...
Because all those memories...
All those memories...
Will never make her mine.

*************************

SHADES OF RED:

If I could paint the moon...
make it glisten in it's rouge temperament...
To cover the world in a translucent fire of death and destruction
Of my own wake...
The world would be a perfect place.

If I could sing a tune...
So sorrowful and sweet to fill...even the deepest crevices....
To make the dead dance in it's tremulous countenances, a fear to make them
shudder...
I would sing to make the moon wake...

In some jolt of a lunatic's sorrowful lyrics, the moon would rise,
Stir and wake
And shine it's maddening gaze upon the world to cast my red and shiny rage..
To make the world glitter in it's mishappened shape.

In some depth of the world's bowels, it would spit out it's vile...
Let the dead dance in it's transcendent ways...
Compelled by the dancer's song in full delight of her gaze...
The binding ritual of a lover's caress to create the sleeper's wake.


~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)

I didn't like the first one. But "Pretty things" is nice, I like it.
Actually, I don't seem to like poems written in English. I just think it's a language that does not fit poetry. But we can always makes exception, ne? Lord Byron knew how to do it....
But don't say It's because I'm Brasilian... Because, I rather "English" than "Portuguese" ((But Brasilian poetry is usually nice *_*))

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

That's cool...as I don't know much about either of hte languages, I can't really say much....but I respect your opinion. smile Thanks for the compliment biggrin
The second one I actually wrote YEARS ago...like when I was 14. It is funny because at that point I had never been in love, or even thought I was...it was just one of those poems that came out. It was odd...and I was surprised at it..but I love it. smile
Thank you again. smile

~Nehmahati Kerosna (Kala)