Darque Erotique

Zombie

2009-09-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

You look at me and there is
no life in your eyes. Your
touch is cold and clammy.

You are falling to pieces
as I watch your self-destruction.
You try to speak, but
your words are meaningless.

You took my heart and
made a delightful dish
of misunderstanding
and anguish.

You are nothing but
a bully, a mindless monster
who tortures my mind
with the cutting remarks.

But now I’m free from
your stench of betrayel.

A Lover Scorned

2009-08-19T22:36:00.000-07:00

Fourth entry in the journaling game via twitter dated August 4, 2009

The clock ticks quietly as I hunger
for more of your phantom touch,
mouth watering as it remembers your taste.

My nose tingles in remembrance of your
scent, fresh as clean cotton but all I scent now
is the smell of wet earth, pungent with decay.

Sharp, cold, biting winds slash away my
warm memories of you, as I think of
all I would give, just to see your face again.

Laughter, tenderness, and passion forgotten
as an orchestra beats in my chest, as beneath
the hearts surface, the tree root of despair
breaks up the cement walls of betrayal.

Let’s go back to beginning, when our
kisses melted into each other’s mouths
when souls attempted to approach each other
in an awkward first dance.

We were symmetrical, two pieces abstract.
We were emotional thoughts, nurtured
in the love we shared.

I look at the mind picture of you, and a stray memory
traps me as I remember that your scent is like
a fine, full bodied wine that lingers after your gone.

But no more as shapeless clouds turn into illusions
that are attuned to the heartbeat of my silence as I
look upon your emancipated, alabaster corpse.

I endure your vacant eyes as you stare in
moody silence, my vile guard against sanity,
endless abyss of days to come.

Will you forgive me?

Intoxicating Brevity

2009-08-19T22:34:00.000-07:00

Third entry in the journaling game via twitter dated July 21, 2009.

Where the wild things are is where
I am most at home
Dreaming of silky things,
crossing hot thighs.

My lips would have known
enigmas of shadowy vistas, while
the entwining rhymes and gently flowing
turbulent rip tides of my life,
strikes the heart as a silent choir
sings to me of shivers that run along
my spine.

I hear you calling my name
as lightning strikes my lonely heart,
craving your skin makes my tongue
withdraw as I thirst in hunger as
the swollen fire of desire tries to
consume my abyss as I feast on
all you can give.

My Love

2009-08-19T22:31:00.000-07:00

Second entry for the journaling game via twitter dated July 7, 2009.

My Love

I inhale your beauty as you
kiss me again.
My love, I live in your moment,
taking what you give.
Can you feel my breath as I sigh
against your neck, the heat branding
you to me?

My love, I hear you speaking out
loud in secret
as your body sings to me,
a lovely lullaby of who you are.
My love the touch of your hand strums
me to intense silence. Then
starts all over again.

My love I stand still as your words fall
through me, then wrap around
me in a protective embrace as
I am your wonder, your book
of Genesis, the one you look
upon as salvation.

My love I am yours.

Conscious Gravity

2009-08-19T22:16:00.000-07:00

This was first posted as part of a journaling game on twitter back on June 23, 2009.

…And with a whisper, I was freed.
Free of bone and flesh, no longer
hampered by earthly thoughts.

You have saved me from the
agony of living, the life of the
living dead.

I am a thought, a whisper in
your mind. I am shadow with
no light.

I float in rising adulation, looking
down at the pain that was my body,
and I know that you will do what
must me done.

And with a whisper, I am free.
Free to be the wind, that rises
in triumph over the bound
and the stationary.

I am free.

Wasteland of Barren Thoughts

2009-08-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

Silence feeds the anger of heartache as
the air stirs in unease as I push open
the door of treachery.

I look upon you, innocent as dreams
are deserted while the future weeps.

I am awake within a nightmare, where
my inner demons meets a soulless void
as you let the lie fester upon the air.

The sky of my horizon darkens in
disgust, as lightening punches
through the shadow of doubt.

My silent imprisonment of betrayal
castrates the hints of reality and truth.

Tears slash down my cheeks like knives
of deceit as the sounds you create
are bombs of lies to my ears.

You are deception personified.

Untitled

2009-07-07T23:16:00.000-07:00

I am an empty shell
that lies on the beach
of your mind.

I feel not the wind
nor waves of memory
as I stare blindly.

You pick me up, and
put me to your ear to
listen, but no sound
beckons.

You place me down
gently back on the
sand and walk away.

I am no use to you.

Ending

2009-07-06T14:33:00.000-07:00

I stand still as your words
fall through me, like innocent
snowflakes, adrift in the air.

Your lips burn blue with
the intensity of your ten
degrees of anger.

The venom burns my ears
yet I do nothing to cover
myself as you inflect
fresh wounds of sorrow.

I gaze at you, but no longer
in the first blush of love.

Your face, with the cracks and
crevasses of emotion, is
no longer my inspiration.

You’ve built up my walls
of indifference, and yet I can’t
leave you senseless.

I am locked in and can’t
find the key to move on
from this devastation called
relationship.

We are at the end of a journey.

My heart pitfalls into the abyss
of our own making and nothing
can help us.

We are at the end of a journey.

No Breath

2009-06-27T22:38:00.000-07:00

Standing on the Edge of nowhere,

a place not welcome. A ripple of

anticipation awaits me.

Can’t.

Breathe.

I am in the grip of something

powerful.

Can’t.

Breathe.

The need is a claw ripping

out of my skin.

Can’t.

Breathe.

Submissive Dreams

2009-06-24T09:54:00.000-07:00

I am harshly addicted
to you, the butterflies
gliding drunk with
anticipation as I try to
breakaway from you.

Eyes shut against your
brand of love reflected in
your face, I tremble in
sick ecstasy at what is
to come.

The door slams shut,
your eagerness to begin
heard in the sound. With
out warning my eyes open.

Death becomes you,
as you dress the part. I
can no longer move
as we play the game again.

My mind is my vision, I whisper
in my thoughts, yet I am
calmer now.

I glance out the window,
watching the clouds stroll
across in leisure, as dawn
peaks through, trying to
breathe life anew.

But it is too late for me,
as lethargic feelings
overcome the me. I am
held in your thrall as
the first bite of the whip
slashes across my back,
yet I feel delivered.

I am the serenity in the calm.

Malignancy

2009-06-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

I wrote this for a poetry class I took in 2004. I had just seen a documentary on one of those money news channels, and I found it quite awe-inspiring. Please note I wrote this in fun, but it is accurate today as it was five years ago.

Malignancy

It started with a tingle
underneath the skin of
society.

No one knew that it
was a contagious
disease, that would spread
like the worst of a California
wildfire, that it would
blister and ooze a pus
filled open sore on
society and community.

It seemed to grow overnight.
First in one community and
then another. In some
cases it would be in the same
one, doubling the contamination.

This thing is like the snake
to Eve, tempting society into
submission. It takes over
and bully’s people. It is a
manufactured disease that
just won’t go away.

As you read this, your
community has already
been affected. All that can
be done is to go on and
smile because it is here
to stay.

Welcome to Wal-Mart.

Welcome to the Party

2009-06-14T18:29:00.000-07:00

Your lips grotesque, oozing black words.

Strange atonement for the necromancers,

dancing a claustrophobic dance.

Fierce laughter, forced masquerade, you

are the quicksand, I the grieving lunatic.

Black flowers beckon the weary soul,

an immovable sinner, gullible fool.

The heart palpitates a wish of defiant

countermeasures, and deathly beautiful

in its way.

The knife slashes the manic state of mind

inspiring cracks in the sky, as the blood

of rain comes down, and washes away

your sin.

Silence feeds on the emptiness until it

becomes a gentle melancholy of confusion.

Concept without meaning, colors scintillating

into the ether as they are slowly drained

of the essence of being.

Horror Erotique

2009-06-12T15:20:00.000-07:00

I am attracted to your inner beauty.
The blood, sinew, and organs make
my heart beat faster.

I lay down next to you in your
splendor of skin ripped open like
overripe fruit, your insides a warm
breath of fresh air.

You are more open to me now as
I slather a bit of you on me.

My skin shines in the dim light,
as I climb atop your rigor mortis
and smile at the eyes I scooped out
and set aside next to your head, so
that I know that you are watching
us.

I shudder in ecstasy as I take more
of you into me.

Your heart is my trophy, my treat
for loving you as only I know how.

obligated dismay

2009-06-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

lips cool to the touch upon
my neck, they open and
warmth tingles a path of
lassitude. your teeth extend
and graze across the skin in
a loving caress of horror.
still i stand, not breathing
as fear washes over me in
a crushing tidal wave.
i feel the pressure as you
get excited by what’s
beneath my skin. you
intrude upon my mind, as
you crash through the gate
of consciousness. i no
longer feel but what you
want me to feel. you
pierce me with a
sharp cutting bite, yet
i stand meekly by as
you take sustenance. i
feel your praise as i
slowly lose myself in
your presence.

Discordant Blues

2009-06-09T22:31:00.000-07:00

Sunshine sings of changing words
Steamy breath, responsive shivers
slide down to parts unknown.

A secret that weaves in rhythm and blues
And the insidious duo of pain and pleasure
Beckons us to dine as their guest.

The moon shines on you in ignorant bliss
And inspires thoughts of life.

The clouds attune to my inner beast,
A lonely entity, my savior of self.

Twisted melody sings my life
In discordant harmony.

I descend in blizzard strength
To cover you in shallowness.

My mind is at an end.

When I Gaze at the Sky

2009-06-01T19:16:00.000-07:00

When I Gaze at the Sky

When I gaze at the sky, I am

vacuumed into the silence

as the clouds, like vaporous

fumes, go across the sky,

covering and uncovering the

pupil of the eye of the world,

which shines down like the

luminescent glare of an alarm

clock, pressing on me as if I

were a light switch to turn off.

Reality is scripted and I don’t

know my lines. I try to audition

for a feeling of self, yet I am on

the back lot of forgotten dreams,

and the dreams welcome and

offer comfort.

The darkness fades and the light

peeps over the horizon, like a

newborn babe opening its eyes

for the first time, I see what I

could not see before. I am

standing in front of a door that

is closed. I get closer and I see

that it is a door attached to a

house that is containing my

own personal demons.

This is my fear, the fear of letting

them out, and having them

takeover my life, lie a prisoner

who has escaped and thinks

his captors will continue to hound

him. I too feel that they are waiting

for me to slip and open up that

door, so that they can catch me

and work on me until I can't

think for myself.

But, the vast endless sky looks

down upon me and offers me

hope, for I feel it sees in me the

light I try to keep burning to keep

the darkness at bay.

Heartache

2009-05-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Here is another poem I wrote some years back. I was trying to play around with words so that a person could "here" or "see" the vision I was presenting.

Tears

My heart is a beating a strange
tempo. It has a life of its own.
It is trying to beat a path out
of my chest and follow you.

I am working day and night
to build a wall of resistance
around it, even though like
a loyal puppy it pants after
you, trying to be obedient.

It used to me mine to give
freely. When first we met, you
struck a chord within me and
I knew that we were in sync;
two people who's hearts
snared as one.

But you took advantage
and mesmerized my heart
to beat to your drum, a
different tune.

I must rein in my heart
because it is what I do best;
repair what is damaged
and move onto something
better.

Simple Life

2009-05-26T12:43:00.000-07:00

Not writing out my thoughts is not good for me. I took a break and now I’ve got all kinds of mad thoughts roaming in my mind. It is time to release some of them. Words are like soldiers queuing in line, waiting for the next opportunity to go forth and wreak havoc. At least that is how I see it. Here is a work in progress.

Obscene Display

I bathe in darkness,
it is my mistress. She
holds me, offering comfort
in a world of indecisions.

I call her mother, sister, lover
she who gives words to my
blackest psyche. I worship
in her temple, I dance in dark
delight.

Sometimes writing poetry allows the leeches freedom, even if what I write is not a profound statement. It just helps. Also the pictures I include helps to put my “vision” out there for the world to see.

Words come to in a certain word order. Never prose but always in poem format. I love prose, but it is formed that way and that is how I write it out. Half the time it makes no sense until I am done and then I analyze my own writing and realize that there is always a meaning at least to me, that is deeper and not always cerebral. It just is.

Repressed Sexuality

2009-05-23T12:19:00.000-07:00

I haven't thought about this in years, but with bleeding out my thoughts out in the real world, some thoughts have come out.

When I was in the third grade, I had my one and only lesbian act. I was 8 and she was Asian. We always found excuses to go to the bathroom, though I was the follower. I remember the "humping" we'd do. But I was never comfortable with her and one day while we were rubbing each other, some junior high school girls came in to use the bathroom. I was so scared, because I knew it was wrong what we were doing, at least to my 8 year old mind. I never talked to her again.

Fast forward to now. I wonder if that act warped me? I am not very outgoing when it comes to meeting the opposite sex. I for some reason expect a man to come on to me and be wowed by my personality and sexual know how. But that is not how it works. I have not had a steady cock in 14 years. I am ready to burst at the seams. I have thoughts and ideas, but no one to share. I think I am just shy deep down and scared about what others will think about me. I want things and crave things, yet I never act on them.

But writing out my thoughts, well this helps. It also allows me to be free in ways I have never thought I'd be.

The Deconstruction of Me

2009-05-22T10:01:00.000-07:00

I wish I can tell you what this poem is about, but I will not. I will say that when I wrote it I was feeling not myself. I will let you figure out this one

The Deconstruction of Me

It burns where my eyes used to be.
The eyes that were once in my head
sit on a desk, not blinking, not seeing.

It burns where my used to be.
The heart that was once in me, lies
on a shelf, not beating, not seeing.

You took them away, so that I could
not feel or see. But I can hear you. I
can hear the breath you stole. You
are a destroyer, taking a little bit of
me and making me in your image. I will
eventually fade away and be no more.
This is when you will triumph and
be the victor.

You were a conception born out of
desperation. I gave you thoughts
and ideas, and molded you in my
image. You were my salvation, my
immortality. Yet you are no longer
mine.

You are free, while I am not.
You took what I gave and twisted
it all up until my feelings are no
longer recognizable. You are a user,
that would throw back in my face
everything I did to bring you into being.

It burns where my voice used to be.
You took it and put it in a box, locked
it and threw away the key.

I am a copy of who I used to be. I don't
remember because you took my
memories, ripped and shredded, and
threw the pieces to the wind, while you
watched them float away.

I am becoming what you want me to be,
what you want me to see, what you want
me to feel.

I am your robot.

Cop Bondage

2009-05-21T21:36:00.000-07:00

I went into a convenience store and saw an officer of the law. He was probably 5’9, bald, with a stocky build, not fat but fit, Caucasian, and had a gun on his hip. I stared at him, not in fear, but in female dominance. I wanted to see how his ass would look with either my hand print or a soft, supple leather strap. I wanted to tie him up, gag him, and assert myself. It was a powerful feeling. I wanted him to beg for release, but not give it to him. I wanted tie his cock up in the Japanese style. I was aroused. He turned to look at me for a second, then turned back to finish is transaction. Nothing was said, but I felt a connection. He wanted my dominance.

This was all in my head. I have never done any type of bondage play, yet I was feeling it. But the moment was gone. He left and I have fantasies. My hand will help me cope with the loss. No dark thoughts tonight as I write. This is helping, yet I feel a relapse coming on where the darkness will win.

Damn Responsibility

2009-05-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

This morning, which I had hoped was going to be a good one, unfortunately was not. I was in a meeting and tried to get my thoughts out on a situation, but as usual no one seemed to hear what I was “feeling”.

I wanted to scream bloody fuckin’ murder. No one understands what I want, what I need.

It’s times like this that I wish I could walk away, far, far away. But I am responsible for people.

I need to release the blackness inside of me. Damn responsibility.

I need someone to lean on, someone to take over for a little while. I need to give up control. I am not a submissive, but sometimes it would be nice, for once, to have someone looking out for me, taking care of me.

Hear me, see me. I am here.

Tears

2009-05-20T21:58:00.000-07:00

My attempt to exercise the demons. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. It still moves me.

Tears

Like an unstoppable flood, my
eyes water, day after day.
They puff up like an irritated
bee sting until I can't see.
The tears that flow down my
cheeks are rivers meandering
through a lonely forest.
There is no babbling brook,
for they are silent participants
running from my despair.

My own personal darkness
threatens to cover me, like
an eclipse of thoughts that
wants to smother my light,
my being. The tears that
flow, are an attempt to bleed
the darkness out of me like a
purification ritual.

As they fall one by one off
my chin to my shirt, I can
imagine them as marching
away like Confederate
soldiers, defeated and
dejected.

I am here

2009-05-20T20:31:00.000-07:00

This was started as a way to express myself. I don't cry much and it does not help when I do. Writing usually does. I vented today to a friend, but she wasn't "there" for me.

This has been my life as long as I can remember. From my mother not being there when I truly needed her. That experience totally fucked me up, and to this day it still effects me. I usually keep things bottled up which is no good.

But this is to let you know I exist and I will be heard. Listen to me.