DenialA Poem by Princeps Angelus Mors
Kronos entwined from woven flesh demise
The footsteps of a tear cornering my eye,
discernible, a wide void, burning pupils from a sight
contorted, a pledge to yield not high,
contented, diminished relief that is to die.
Clinging to the contours of likeliness,
a fathom is formed and bred
- trust scarred with doubt, led
to ambiguity, fiendlily idolatrous weakness.
Waking inside, plunging beneath, an enrusted mill,
arching in agony through the narrow end,
approaching the final act of life's uncertain plot.
Remembering every hour I sat still,
with you on my side, until I bend
and break apart, afraid...to be naught.
Leaving a trail behind, addictive.
Linen stretched against my strain,
my face gone sour with guilt.
We were sprung into the desire of pain,
spared me a mistress so seductive.
A plague, rest assured, to be uncovered:
time uprooted in decay, a valiance.
Seized, the chaos weaver,
'midst the remnants of silence,
your convalescence augured...
Your c**t I needn't buy,
I would readily rape your soul,
down under the remains
searched in wonder for my ghoul
in my veins pulse a content so shy.
Your laugher ended in a muted cry
you say I left you hollow,
draped beneath the delay of wealth,
my vice's trace for you to follow
- a slave obedient reluctance to wry.
Clinging to contours of likeliness,
I, aborted in advent:
a paradox of symmetry ethereal.
Affinity to the vacuum of what would I resent:
the burning edge of unconsciousness.
A labor of pain, cancerous spreading towards the end,
a disease clustering against my face.
Immature, I plead for atonement,
granting instead isolation's grace.
Fortitude's ochre banner, striding along to tend.
Threading between the mist of the weeping,
a paragon of destruction, taken away.
Enclosured, a pale smile regains,
burning inside the tears I shed in pray
the threshold to
hunger, in haste...colliding.
My lifeline receding,
a mutter revealing my misery:
in perdition I'm lost,
leaving the apparent decay
my flesh contests at forced delay.
Devoured by sickness,
blackened in pain,
fostering an ill attempt to suffice,
appeasing an existence outlived,
unforgiving remains retrieved...
And darkness approaches,
forced into my chest,
a burden preying onto my stomach,
rinsing my wrong,
of raising myself in denial
orphaned child in angst of rejection,
seeking in me an aisle
from the ghosts of a past gone untold.
Interpreted in a day,
unset awake at dawn,
washing liquid down my throat.
Anguish redeemed, a pardoned offence,
draped into clothes of shroud, hence,
left me to inhale his Death.
With obsidian blood
scar my heart,
losing esteem in farewell
- the realm of a storm in dispel.
Of beauty and beast intertwined.
Loosen hair, swaying with the wind,
ethereal sustenance of though.
Begone, benighted, into a shrine,
into a silent void, one solitary crow.
Memories flooding back,
from distant times, only an echo...
Buried in distress,
a thread within my mind, polluted ego,
affectation for a gesture of strain.
Here to digress, not to follow
the steps taken before,
in frost dies my halo.
Hours Of Expectation
Ingest a tremble of nihility,
misanthropic paradigm of loss.
In vacuity yield your yearning,
bestow in me shameful disrespect.
Nothingness is coarse to accept,
subtle transference of particled life,
absolute power emanated, embolism,
liturgy of selfish transubstantiation.
Mystery of willingness to attain disdain,
from the fearsome grasp of Death.
Acceptance, one more proof of lack...
Interest drowned in coherence
- hours of expectation for change.
One Of A Kind
down with mirth, to succumb,
ascension is lingering in hysteria,
amoral reflection of a crystalline prism.
vertiginous contortion that stems,
ingesting a virulence,
verve of shining in condemn.
Dejecting my will, he turns for more,
succinctly responding his way.
B*****d son of frivolity stained,
conspurcated with inheritance to portray.
Injecting my veins,
forcing my will to bend,
arrogance encrypted in insipid words,
relieving me from duties to attend.
a moor to normality,
Naked thighs appease the sight.
Don't touch my face,
abusing with pus,
livering the basis...
[for] those who die,
[on]to their stay.
Bound to be,
care to thee
- bid, asleep,
[for] dreams to keep.
Now is time,
[to] break the rhyme,
[of] parting hymn.
[En]list my name,
[a] rest to claim.
Mine to blame,
[what] you became.
© 2013 Princeps Angelus Mors
Added on April 29, 2011
Last Updated on May 14, 2013
Princeps Angelus Mors
Guimarães, Braga, Portugal
AboutI Am that I Am It's been two years since I came across this place. Like all the great things, it happened by chance. A poem called "Broken", featured on this website appeared during a Google search.. more..