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Keeper of the KingdomKeeper of the Kingdom

Where we walk now there lies only ashes.
What once laid in the cinders and coal
was the beauty of the Isles.
This is the Kingdom of Barkol.

The walls were built to protect
and her cannons were built to serve.
The men were prepared for the worst to come
and the women humbled in their curve.

As the men fought the plague
and the women fed the young,
the King sat smug on his throne
pleasured by the sight of the unsung.

The ships out to sea along the coast
lined their guns to the west; the walls
targeted in clear view over the fields
as the captain's fire was called.

The cracks of thunder from the coast
struck fear i

Yo te tengoYo te tengo,
sentada en mi dedo meñique firme
y pesas
muchísimo, voy a partirme el dedo;

Pero sigues ahí, impasiva,
¿no te das cuenta del daño que me haces?
no quiero que te largues,
sólo déjame un espacio que me recupere;
necesito vendar este desastre
y pasar a otro nuevo
que día a día se me están acumulando.

Existen dos personas,
yo y la que vive,
y no, no se me ha olvidado el tipo,
llevo pensando en él décadas;
Pues no soy de ninguna manera una de las dos,
a mí me gusta considerarme una tercera que
observa,
o una cuarta si es que esa es tu creencia

Two sides.;There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil.” -Ayn Rand

There are those outfitters, that sun burn, strugglers. Those wierded, estranged quitters, but I find peace in no remorse, my greed and need are open doors... open for a future whim. In fateful determination, in ill-will for the bashful evil side of forever win.

Cadaverous did you know, that you can dance?
In its own language –the ancient tongue;
The cosmos waits for new romance.
Like Open books riddled with twists and turns;
In a furnace deep, crafted by nature;
There where your desire holds, and burns.
Starli

Break from the Pact.Dream unto thee this wish I see
for myself, when my goals are set.
My debts paid in full and mind astray
I leave with her in my arms into the sunset.

We leave with a full tank of gas,
a mix CD and some clothes.
We drive for four hours, yet seems like ten
and when the rains come, how does it pour.

We ditch the car at the mile marker
after we run out of gas and power.
Then we walk backwards, hands held out
with a lucky road thumb by the hour.

Ride after ride, closer to the coast,
we sit and laugh and joke.
Living the American dream as we saw fit
if not the epitome of our hope.

We reached the coast and stowed for our ride
on a ship nam

Banale GespraecheIch träume von der Nacht
Und ich träume von geistigen Flügen
Alles, was sie reden ...
So banal!
Damit komm ich nicht klar.
Kratzen an der Oberfläche,
Stechen niemals rein.
Was mich stört,
Sind nicht die Themen,
Sondern wie schnell sie abgehandelt sind.
Denken, denken ... eine Qual?
Nein, der Seele höchster Genuss!
Warum verstehen sie das nicht?

Der Natur entstiegen Geboren Der Natur entstiegen

Geboren in der Natur ihr` Schoß,
geborgen in den Wurzeln,
greif in den Himmel und werde groß,
kaum begreifend, Stirnrunzeln.

Ihre Ruhe die Sicherheit spendend,
das Gras unter den Füßen,
sich ganz und gar abwended,
das Leben begrüßen.

Tauche ein in den Zeitraffer der Stadt,
sich selbst geklont,
bis jedes Ich eintausend Ichs hat,
nie verschont.

Sich vor sich selbst erschreckend,
ein Ich für jeden Raum,
Nähe suchend, einsam versteckend,
Sehnsucht nach dem Weltenbaum.

Genug vom Kämpfen, Verlieren, Besiegen.
Vergessen wer man ist, wie man heißt,
sich in seiner Selbst

Pero eso no rimaCreo que la diferencia
entre aquellos que se llaman poetas
y los que no
está en que a los primeros
les encanta pulsar esa maldita tecla;
"intro" la llamo yo,
y me considero uno de los que
adoran pulsarla,
pero no un poeta,
eso lo dejo para los más necesitados.

La diferencia es que el dedo baila
me lo pide,
bien por distancia o por una pausa
que no es una coma, tampoco un espacio
es sólo una pequeña respiración
que el buen lector sabe entender,
es como si cada línea fuera un tiempo;
salta
y salta de nuevo
como si no hubiera un final;
Veo que me has entendido.

No me gusta llamarme poeta
porque no esto

soledadOh soledad, maldita soledad.
SOS la interpretación de la muerte lenta.
Estoy prisionera, atada con cadenas, cadenas de rosas negras.
Que se trepan por todo mi cuerpo, cuyas espinas se clavan en mi piel, cambiando de color negro a carmesí.
En la aviación pintada de negro.
Cuya lágrimas derramadas en el suelo que van muriendo.
Sin la débil luz de una sonrisa, sola, me he muerto, mi alma ha desaparecido, dejándome solo la soledad.
Ya no quiero vivir así, he sufrido de muchas formas pero nunca más quiero sufrir, déjame morir en la tormenta, déjame morir en los brazos de la sol

The NomadI am a nomad, traveling through an infinite, red desert, in search of water, all of which has been dried up by the "bright" sun's intense heat or has been pushed by gravity so deep into the Earth that a lifetime of digging into the sand beneath my feet would not produce a single drop. And so many mirages... so many fucking mirages... that I must excruciatingly pain myself to prove false and nonexistent. So many mirages, in fact, that even my logical and rigidly machine mind has begun to suspect that probability itself is plotting against me... the bastard, showing me just what I've desired all these years, just to make me repeat to myself wha

The Ice-Cream ManIn a world of dark,
in a city of gray,
if you listen to the silence,
you can hear it everyday.

The bells still ring,
the cart is still there,
and you can hear that same old tune,
a melody in the air.

It seems the same from far away,
but if you walk up the to stand,
it stands empty, cold, alone,
the ghost of the ice-cream man.

He has lost his money and dreams,
for no children buy anymore,
they are all long dead and gone,
shot or bombed in a war.

But he still has hopes,
that one day the children will return,
and so he stands here every day,
waiting, forever he will yearn.

Or perhaps the ice-cream man is right,
perhaps it is not the late,
t

1U zagrljaju šapucem,
rijeci imaju novu tamu.
Cekam da se vrate leptiri
dok ponovo gubim sebe samu...

I govorim isto,
mislim i osjecam.
tražim izgubljeno
i samu sebe utapam...

Doticem kožu,miris
i poznati glas.
Toplo je dobro,srce
što kuca za nas...

Molim te vrati mi
Srecu-znam da je tu.
Ispod sve soli,sveg tog
što boli,raspoznajem ju.

Ove bivše rijeci što
bile su premalo tada,
gube toplinu,iskru
i crvenu boju vatre sada...

Znaš li što doista
znace mi suze?
Laže ti osmijeh
što dotakne obraze...

Kraj mi daj,zagrli me
i zatupi bojom meda
sve izgubljeno usput,
staro

FuturoDoce miles de telas de araña me sujetan
a mi ventana impidiéndome avanzar,
construir un futuro hacia un deseo
agonizante y oscuro,
hacia un pálpito de pura codicia.

Veintisiete con ocho pilares
sustentan mi mente
partida en pedazos ante un
destino que no es mío,
destino robado por mentirosos.

Pero sigo sobre mis piernas,
puede que intranquilo,
puede que tembloroso,
pero nadie podrá afirmar
que no puedo sujetarme.

Sigo sonriendo al horizonte,
y es que una sola canción
me llena de cariño,
respeto, y una quemazón
a la que me gusta llamar alma.

Al fin y al cabo son sólo núm

BiancaWarmer Abend
Wir sind betrunken
Und singen Nirvana
So perfekt ...

Du bist wie dieser Abend
Ganz besonders, einmalig
Unersetzbar, leider endlich

Wenn mein Herz mir schmerzt,
Dann gibst du mir dein Ohr
(auch wenn dein Handy dauernd leer ist :p )
Und hörst einfach zu.

Du bist nicht
Die Krone der Gesellschaft,
Sondern zersetzt sie mit Gift.
Heil dir, oh du meine Lieblings-Punkerin!

Du bringst mich zum Lachen.
Du bringst mich zum Weinen.
Vollendeter Kreis.

Für mich sind wir Schwestern,
Also bleib, wer du bist.

Du liebst Nirvana,
Du liebst den Rausch,
Du liebst das Klavier,
Du liebst den Regen,
Du bist ein kleiner Eskapist.

Komm, k

Ludzkie slowaLudzkie słowa, czułe, kruche,
czynią w sercach zawieruchę.
One są nieadekwatne,
karkołomne, nieporadne.
Myśli – ciche, spontaniczne,
niezależne, nielogiczne.
Czasem dużo obiecują,
lecz słowa nie dotrzymują.
Kłamstwa mnożą się na świecie,
często człowiek głupstwa plecie…

Nosso Senhor o Rei das MiseriasO sol diz adeus, amarelo, azul e roxo

As àrvores derretem-se

Um sonho acordado nas horas da noite

Por uma promessa, muitas almas vêm de terras muito distantes

Bem-vindo seja, aquele que acredite,

No amor como uma força, coisa inesquecível

São mais fortes as dores, reinan as tristezas

O destino começa agora.

Ele colapsa as estrelas, tudo o que da,

Tudo vai quitar, quando você mais precisa

Pelos becos pretos, onde nada brilha, mesmo a lúz do sol,

Ficam as lembranças, a felicidade

Do Rei das misérias, fantasiado da cordialidade

Que apareceu da nada na escuridã

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Submitted: December 6, 2012
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I am the diseased

by ~BlackSteelSeishirou, Dec 6, 2012, 8:19:31 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Concrete Poetry

I am the diseased.
chilled to the bone
No reason to be teased
but that's all that has been shown.

I'm stuck within my labels
and hidden in your minds
acceptance is a fable
That's made sure of by your kind.

Silenced by the glares
stricken by the tongue
frightened by the stares
and the notes they had sung

Weaker, weirder, easily scarred
The easy ones that you can frame
we are all already barred
please don't give us chains

The fault is of the innocent's
the blame can go to them
Truth is darker isn't it?
But it's a very fruitful friend.

The friends of the diseased
are the ones who hold us high
but never have a word
for when we want to die

The truth is no one cares
even if they say they do
In reality I think they are scared
of the ones that they scoff to.

The darkness is where we choose to lie
scaring only you, you who refuse to hear
we are the ones who cannot cry
and lost the will to shed a tear

And now it has caught up to you
the ones who dampened our life
because of you it has come to
a present, the ragged blade of a knife.

I am the diseased.
Goodnight. Forever.