For my love on a rough day...
"Lux Lucis Ab Obscuro"
When your brightness wanes as lighter -that of day- gains,
be patient and hold your tongue. For when the bright of dawn, -its song sung-
drops from view, its absence gives way to the light of you.
And though the lunar sphere, in you tries to summon fear, it too soon will disappear.
Though held to both you're not as bright, there is one truth of day and night;
that the Sun may rule the east, and the moon the west,
you my Star rule all of the…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on November 18, 2009 at 11:30pm —
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(The following is a retelling of acctual events earlier today.)
She sat above me, the sun and leaves in her hair.
I lied below her, through a steadied camra's lense I stared.
Apples strewn about around me, one half eaten in my hand,
She beckoned for her fruit and at her words I of course obliged to stand.
Though getting up too quickly, not on two feet but on one knee,
I found myself kneeling before her apple in hand outstretched, as one would do if he proposed.
Without thought I asked my love…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on September 13, 2009 at 2:00am —
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To my dearest, I love you.
"Owed to True Beauty"
Is , per cuius visio quod vultus , ut illud of decor ipsa es dedecus ,deserves
magis sic talis a nomen quam talis reproba decor.
(From Latin to English)
She, by whose face and form, that those of beauty herself are shamed ,deserves
more so such a name than such false beauty.
To my dearest Psychopath.
- Lunatic, King of Red Rose
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on September 13, 2009 at 1:30am —
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"Sing, sing. Oh, marionette"
(written on the spot, mind you!)
My heart aches with an unrelenting sorrow that the rag doll's death remains in vain,
So in a final attempt to remedy her pain,
I send this greeting, and this praise,
In the hopes that her bloodied shrouded veil of heartache will raise.
Hush, hush rag doll baby. Sew your stitches, and weave a new life,
Not as the ragged doll but as the china marionette who holds her own strings.
Who conquers all strife,
And does not cry, but sings.…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 14, 2009 at 8:00am —
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The phoenix burns one last time before it dies.
The ashes blow away to reveal the newborn chick.
Nurse it, care for it, love it.
Give it a fire for it's heart.
Give it a song, let it sing.
Let it fly, on burning wings.
It knows who gave it life, the ashes of that which has died.
It will not forget you.
-Lunatic, Prince of Nightmare
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 14, 2009 at 8:00am —
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"This poem is in dedication to Jennifer Anne Parker"
PLEASE COMMENT ON THIS AND OTHERS!!!!!!!!!!!
I
Hungrily they stare with their pale and sightless eyes.
They lure you toward your decimation with faux facades as their disguise.
With whispered promises their anger steals away into your fragile paper heart.
Barring tooth and claw they leave your insides torn apart.
II
Still you stand on failing limbs as they stare with no remorse, much less compassion.
They ghost in all around you in a most ph…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 13, 2009 at 2:30pm —
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I live in a Dead Town, where most are dead or dying. The dying roam the streets, the dead flood them with their festering carnage. People are born here to simply die. No one is missed, all are forgotten. Not me. I live in Dead Town, but remember the dead, I am there to miss them, but there is someplace else in this Dead Town. A place where the fire from the skies, the rain of blood, cannot soak and the howls of the damned devouring each other cannot be heard. There is a place, where life exists.…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 8, 2009 at 9:00am —
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Tainted Romance
Born of blood, and born of bite,
A tainted romance, denied by right.
Two very different beings of night.
Four lips meet under the Blood Moon's light.
Whispered goodbyes, and an endless embrace,
As swift the departure, so swift is the chase.
- Lunatic, King of Red Rose
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 5, 2009 at 3:00am —
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This was a the first poem my girlfriend Jennifer Parker gave me...I still love reading it to myself when I am alone at night, so desperate to have her in my arms again.
"My Savage Garden"
by: Jennifer Parker
Blurs of color, thick and thin
as though a water color, gone awry
obscures my vision
or is it my eyes?
rather than wonder what they are
I wonder why
this always happens to me
it must be karma or something
sitting on the ground
I look around
to see the motions of the blurs
they fly past me…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 4, 2009 at 8:00pm —
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Heaven hath no beauty in its exalted skies, Nor does hell hold fire in its caverns that mirrors that which floods your eyes.
For the moments when I cannot view them, what little in me living dies.
Though being cold at heart, is what you, of yourself perceive, There is little to persuade me of the opposite to believe.
Though at the thought of loss of you you say I'd seldom grieve, in no way could you be more wrong, unless you've thought me once to leave.
Was it not I who you said knew you more th…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 4, 2009 at 10:30am —
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" It won't be soon before long..."
Seconds turn to minutes since I saw you last.
The angst I feel by the hour, another shackle held fast.
With every tick and every tock
of every hand on every clock, is another chain, another lock.
Bound by time, and its every hour, my wrists are calloused, my palms, scoured.
From dawn to dusk, I hollow more, not but the husk,
of what I was when time began, until I feel your gentle hand,
these tempus stones, are not but sands.
Through these sands, I venture stil…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 4, 2009 at 10:00am —
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Still shirtless I stare into the mirror deep in thought, that same question still resonant in the sound receptors in my cerebral cortex; "What does she see in me?...." Yes its stupid to always think this, but when you've spent your life being told you're nothing you tend to believe the voices that so relentlessly batter you with hurtful memories and words whose stabs are bullets that rival any and all sticks and stones. I brush out my hair hating that it no longer hides my face from the cruelnes…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 4, 2009 at 5:30am —
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Everybody lies.
when the lie is said and done.
and the battle of wit v.s. wit is won.
who is it i ask?
who ends the battle standing.
and who's calloused hands are bloodied from their landing.
truth brings justice, but makes us weak.
but to tell a two-faced tale.
it takes a courageous man to speak.
to have the heart to hold the truth...
and keep it from the light...
is an equivalent to a quarantine of night.
in its way a lie is truth, just from anothers point of viewing.
but in other ways its jus…
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Added by Angeles FideLESS on July 4, 2009 at 5:30am —
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