Poetry past due

I suppose that it is about time that I transplanted some of my other poems over into this project journal, so here they are:

These are pretty much listed in reverse chronological order, and you can sort of see my transformation over the years. Much of the early poetry was written about religious themes, primarily because I was at a point where I was trying to determine just what I believed but was pretty much forced to go to church every Sunday regardless of my own preferences. Protestant Christianity was an easy topic to write about because I had plenty of background with it and I found myself contending with it every week.

untitled poem fragment

a tale of two cities
…miles apart

a tale of two people,
and one broken heart

a charge of abduction
and infanticide

you ran off with my heart,
took its life when you lied.

This was just something that had been bouncing around in my head, but I never put much further development to.

Cold/Fever

I hate being sick.
At least I don’t have a cold.
I am burning up.

The Runs

Crap. I have the runs.
Now I understand the name.
Sprint to the bathroom.

Whisperings from God at Peterkin

It is not the ocean that you hear
but the breath of God
It is not the rain that you hear
but the tears of God
For God feels as we feel
A paradoxical torrent of emotion
A deluge that harmonizes yet conflicts within us all
Making us human
Making us beings of God

I am not going to go into any explanation of this. This really has to be appreciated for its beauty alone or not at all. It isn’t my usual style, and I don’t really know how it came to me. If there is a God, then I am sure that he/she/it is responsible for this. Those of you at Peterkin know just about the whole touching story though.

Someone Left— A Sonnet

Someone got up and left the room
without even saying goodbye
I’m not sure why he left so soon
It happened when I closed my eyes

The room is empty, no one’s here
and someone turned the lightbulb out
I don’t feel scared though I’m in fear
and though I’m sad, I cannot pout

So now he’s gone and I’m alone
and there’s nothing that I can do
but wait for him to return home
because for now my life’s askew

I hope that he returns you see
because the one that left was me

This is an English sonnet in iambic tetrameter. One day I woke up and just felt empty and that everything was worthless, and I told my mother that I just felt as though part of me had gotten up and left without saying goodbye. Thats what this poem was about. I think it would have been better if I hadn’t tried to make it any particular rhyme or meter, but we had been studying poetry in class and I thought that I would give it a try.

The following is a short poem that expresses a basic summary of some of my most aggravating interactions with members of the opposite sex. I have often been told how wonderful I am but that I would make a better friend than I would a boyfriend.

nothing more to say

“You’re so cute, you’re so smart,
you’re much too sweet to break a girl’s heart.”

“You’re so funny, you’re so kind,
if a girl doesn’t like you she’s out of her mind.”

“You’re so nice, you’re so hot,
every girl is looking for just what you’ve got.”

“I like you so much, you’re so kind and sweet,
and wonderful in every way…
But I think we should be, no more than friends…”
now there’s nothing more to say.

Caffeine

Of sweeter a poison, ne’er have I known.
Ever since my first sip, through my veins you have flown.

You run through my veins as a part of my soul.
Whenever I have you I feel I am whole.
With your very presence you make my heart race;
just beating and pounding and perfectly paced.
I realize you harm me, but it’s not your fault.
I simply must have you– don’t mind result.
My body is too weak for your love I know.
For it cannot handle the seeds that you sow.
You tear out my insides but fill them right back;
and who really needs an intestinal tract?
I sweetly embrace you, though others may scorn.
But isn’t it true: every rose has a thorn?
This addiction my love I am no longer denying.
For when I am without you I feel that I am dying.

Twilight

Midnight
Twilight
Only Light that shines tonight
Please give me power that I might
Have the strength to do what’s right

Agrael (The Angel of Madness)

I have torn the Tree of Life down
with my own bloodied hands.
The thorns have been driven so deep
within my mortal wounds.

My face is dirty.
My wings are burned.
The madness within
has now been churned.

I have torn the pages from the Book
and burnt them one by one.
And as the ashes fell to the Earth
my tears began to run.

My skin is blistered.
My throat is cut.
The blasphemous mouth
has been sewn shut.

I have thrown open the gates of Hell
and freed the damned and lost.
The madness of my mind has shattered
the barriers I have crossed.

My name is Agrael.
I am abhorred.
My name is madness;
Sickness of the Lord.

The Witness

[The fires of Justice will rise from the depths of wrath
and bring with them destruction and death; the aftermath.
Full of sound and fury, tears and pain;
joy and love will be lost once again]

A witness will be brought before the throne.
And he will be left to observe alone:

He will see God blink an eye,
and see a brilliant crimson sky.

He will see God wave a hand,
and see a rich and fruitful land.

He will see a brilliant flash,
and see a man made out of ash.

He will see the Son of Life,
and watch him die for human stryfe.

He will see the rise of Man,
and watch Man fall back down again.

He will see the Angels fight,
and watch as Earth is veiled in night.

He will see the Dragon fly,
and watch as all the nation’s die.

He will see the Dragon slain,
and bear as witness to Man’s pain.

He will see the Beast of Dark,
and watch men bear it’s evil mark.

He will see the Seven Seals,
and feel the pain that mankind feels.

He will see the universe,
and watch all humankind disperse.

He will see the End alone,
and see as God rests on his throne.

The End

Why must I suffer for their sin?
Why must I die for them to win?
Isn’t there some other way?
I do not want to die this day.

If they are weak, I must be strong.
The good I do will right the wrong.
I am the shepherd, they the sheep,
I must protect them while they sleep.

But will they wake when I have gone?
Or am I just a wasted pawn?
Please help them Father, for their sake.
When I have gone help them awake.

For if they sleep, it has been lost.
A wasted life, the highest cost.
If I must suffer such great pain,
I do not want to die in vain.

*This poem was actually used by a metal band in the Norge (I am not sure which country that is, to be quite honest) for a song. One of the band members contacted me and asked my permission to use the poem (and parts of another poem) in some of their lyrics, and I granted them permission as long as I was given credit for my share of lyrics and as long as they sent me a copy of anything that they recorded to which I contributed lyrics. They actually sent me a demo cd that they had put together, which was pretty neat.

Mother Mary

I saw him on the cross so high.
I saw him breathe a heavy sigh.

He seemed so cold out in the rain.
He looked so tired of the pain.

His body beat, his clothing torn,
He wore his bloody crown of thorn.

I saw my son, I saw him weep,
A shepherd dying for his sheep.

A slaughtered lamb among the goats.
It was just as the prophet quotes:

” ‘I am thirsty. It is done.’-
Dark clouds will cover up the sun!”

I saw a light shine in his eye.
I watched it end and saw him die.

Pilate’s Dream

A church bell rings, a child dies
And no one even cares or cries
A church bell rings, a teacher burns
And no one cares and no one learns

The One was here but now is gone
On pilgrimage to hell
The darker ones had come for Him
He tried to stand but fell

A church bell rings, a leader dead
And no one cares what men he led
A church bell rings, a soul is sold
And no one feels the evil cold.

The One is dragged down darker path
The dark ones take His soul
He bleeds and dies, the dark ones laugh
And throw Him in the hole

A church bell rings, a shepherd murdered
And no one cares what sheep he herded
A church bell rings, a fisher drowned
And no one saw the pearls he found

The One falls in the lake of fire
And burns out in a flame
And no one ever hears him weep
as he cries his father’s name

A church bell rings, and a savior is crucified.

Love

In the dark and the lonely
there is only one light,
which comes from above
an astonishing height.

There is only one way,
which is help from above.
There is only one way,
and that way is love.

The One

Sometimes I think that I am the One.
Sometimes it makes me wonder:
“Am I the One?
Am I the One?
Perhaps it’s just a blunder.

Am I the One of joy and love,
or just of damned desire?
Am I the One?
Am I the One,
or just fuel for the fire?”

love with an angel

in the bed of heaven, love and light
the day is here and gone is night
the light is breaking gently in
your heart beats deep within my skin
( my heart beats deep within your skin )
naked under sheets so pure
death my poison, you the cure
( sin my poison, you the cure )

Demon Dreams (The Visions of a False Prophet)

[ When Satan’s son is dead, castrated
A dark gateway will be created
The world will transform to a living HELL
And will create the unholy shell ]

Where the skeleton hangs the body lies
As demons’ hands reach for the skies
The life within now gone away
Tomorrow is a darker day

Joy to demons, joy to hell
Joy to those within the shell
The hatred is a joyous thing
And sorrow makes the church bells ring

The Tree of Life is grown with thorns
And sprout anew with little horns
The angels have abandoned flight
And there will be no morning light

Those who burn with holy fire
Will not reach their one desire
The happy dreams will not be filled
Let all the joyful ones be killed

The dark one sits on burning tower
The bright one feels his folding power
It seems now that the tide has turned
Let all the holy ones be burned

The world has now come to an end
This is it, it’s over friend

a prayer for all the little…

sell your soul, learn to sin
let all of the demons in

blow out the eternal light
and join the army of the night
crucify the savior son
let him die let it be done

serve your self, serve your master
and you’ll get to heaven faster

burn and pillage, rape the earth
the savior will not have rebirth

anarchy will be unfurled
and then we will destroy the world

*I wrote this poem in late 1996, if I remember correctly. I have the original text file archived somewhere, but was too lazy to look for it for this entry. I generally don’t inlcude it with any of my online published works, because it was written during an angry and hate-filled time, and for the most part I would prefer not to associate myself with it. However, I did allow the webmaster of “The Blood of the Dead Poets” website (a site which appears to now be deceased itself) to include it in his archive, and have often found it online ever since without any credit given to the author (me). So I am stating right here and right now: “This is MY poem. I wrote it. If you want to use it for your oh-so-dark-gothic-website, then give me my damn credit. Andrew M. for motherfuckin’ (in this particular instance) Janeshek.”

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