1 Poetry

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Atakti
Atakti 12 Mar 2017 Tag: Dark

A The Hills Lie

The past grows bony fingers that stretch and cast an ice shadow lingering on my throat. The creeping chill was seeded seasons ago in my rush through frosted daffodils, swaying defiant and brush-stroked in vibrancy. Impatience fluttered its winking white wings, enticed me further in,...

Atakti
Atakti 12 Mar 2017 Tag: Dark

A Mercy After

Death is a woman. She cuts from the cloth of time the shroud of kings and waits counting each grain, each day until the last one falls. Hourglass curves flow, a granular avalanche. Whose eyes watch them? While steel blades swing and ropes bind and pull, men roar, the blood pours...

Atakti
Atakti 12 Mar 2017 Tag: Dark

A Rush

Scarlet, scarlet, it was a scarlet hour... The rushing recedes, leaves me bitten by the workings of my teeth and lips. Regrets leak through my palms. I raise my chin, facing the children that sprung from the scarlet hour.

Stryder
Stryder 16 Dec 2011 Tag: Dark

A Mummy, It's Dark In Here

Mummy, it’s dark in here - this recess This swirling malice caught in my optical memory Of dark matter floating in the milky cosmos In my alienated mind. Please…help me? At night These walls shiver; liquid thin they whisper Like the breath of knives, so close, so close - Too close....

Stryder
Stryder 16 Dec 2011 Tag: Dark

A Afraid of Waking

Not haunted by my grisly dreams Or, in the grip of unknown fears, of The things not seen. But, Wrought in the crowbar-vicious reality Smashing wings in derision of searing angels in death replete. And through the oppressive streets: Attractive...

Stryder
Stryder 12 Sep 2011 Tag: Dark

A U Get What U Pay 4

Advertising mercenary dreams the many thrum of ghost town ‘evacuees' like the zeitgeist oppression of a room full of executives fat-cat’s ultra pay checks - big decisions (ruthless seditions) what -...

Stryder
Stryder 11 Aug 2011 Tag: Dark

A Trapdoor

Sometimes, the murkiest of butterflies escapes, the oubliette of your eyes and the brutal wings flit like the panic of drowning arms in an ocean of skies.

Stryder
Stryder 25 Jul 2011 Tag: Dark

A Crones

These geriatric wards, housing some meagre-life; on the slow march like an infirmary of snails with wrinkled feet, dragging the slime from pools of drool sat in the stale-stench of degrading piss or worse still, some laxative-aftermath. Sometimes abandoned like chess pieces – the...

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