Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
You've heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,
Mocking and loathing War: you've asked me why
Of my old, silly sweetness I've repented--
My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.

You are aware that once I sought the Grail,
Riding in armour bright, serene and strong;
And it was told that through my infant wail
There rose immortal semblances of song.

But now I've said good-bye to Galahad,
And am no more the knight of dreams and show:
For lust and senseless hatred make me glad,
And my killed friends are with me where I go.
Wound for red wound I burn to smite their wrongs;
And there is absolution in my song
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
The Whisper
Hell
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
The Whisper
Fire and brimstone are nothing compared,
To the hell that I see, that I live, that I am.
You see, Hell is not a place where the ****** are condemned,
But a place in my head where Regret is the king.

It's a place where everything I wish I could've taken back,
Is played over and over and over again.
Torturing me and who I want to be,
With the image of who I was in the past.

Regret is the king, but Satan is me.
I am the accused, the shamed, the opposer.
The struggle is defining who I am today,
In the midst of the memories that I refuse to believe.

Demons are the memories that haunt me.
Beckoning me with false justification.
Chastising me with the whip of ignorance.
Killing me with the truth of my actions.

Hell is not the domain of evil.
Hell is not the source of all wrong.
Hell is a place inside of our heads.
Where we refuse to go and never want to be.
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
KM
Easy Poetry
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
KM
If a poet ever tells you
Writing is easy
Writing is fun
If they say this to you
They are lying
Lying a ton
Being a poet
Isn't easy
This is hell
But writers have a place
To call home
To dwell
Where they live comfortably
Is a dark place
A dark cave
And the only ones who enter
Those who love
Those who are brave
Poets are deep creatures
Endless thoughts
Endless pain
If one lets you see inside
Don't injure
Don't be vain
Just quietly sit there
As their soul
Takes you as part
And absorb what you can
As their words
Come from the heart
9/7/2013 & 10/4/2013
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
Harry J Baxter
The bathroom looks like a ****** scene
blood spotting the walls,
the floor,
the yellowing porcelain,
blood.

My brother calls me three times around midnight
I don't pick up
I'm off in la la land
chasing funny things
put to bed on the sofa
in my friends' dorm
too high to fall safely
drunk enough to take the risk

The bathroom is a ****** scene this morning
all of that blood once ran through veins
bringing oxygen to muscles and organs
keeping my brother ticking
and now it's turning the color of rust
on the bathroom floor
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
jar
a few months ago,
you asked me: "What is love?"
As you can see,
it had taken me a long time to understand the question myself,
but I think I've finally come up with an answer.
Unfortunately,
the English language
has only one word to describe something that has limitless interpretations.
In Greek,
there are three words for the three basic types of love.
Eros;
lust.
This type of love
is when you find yourself doodling their name
on the inside of your history textbook,
dotting the I's with hearts
as if you are 13 again and you were just asked on your first date.
You chose that textbook
because it will be the only place no one would ever think to look.
You think about everything you would be far too shy to say or act in person,
making out in the back of a movie theatre
not caring who would walk past,
sneaking off away from your friends just to have two measly moments of what you both call "peace."
Most often,
this type of love is encased in "I love you"
only to obtain a certain goal.
Virginty,
a picture,
or even just one more night
of having them in your arms.
Eros is not authentic,
it is emphemeral.
Phileo;
Brotherly Love.
The friend you would drop anything for in a heartbeat to make sure of their wellbeing,
but also the neighbor you see from time to time watering their garden.
They ask you
to tend to their garden while they are away,
and you do it
even though you've never spoken more than a paragraph to the man
because it is what you believe is right.
This type of love is the devotion of time and energy without any promise of compensation in return,
purely out of the good of heart.
Phileo lasts as long as the people do.
The final type of love
is Agape;
unconditional love.
In religion,
we are guided
or pushed
towards showing this type of love towards the diety.
Yet, very rarely
it is shown towards a human being.
Unconditional love
is the ability to say so much with only uttering a single word.
I have experienced this love,
it is great pain
and great sadness
but the feelings of pain will never leave my lips
in case they are transferred to the person i wish to have the least pain.
This kind of love
is when it is not only enough that you think about them every waking moment but every slumber-filled one as well. You have hung up your needs at the front door along with the key to your heart and devoted yourself entirely to them,
even if they don't reciprocate.
They have been adopted by your body and taken the form of a vital *****.
If you do not
pay absolute attention
to them at all times
you will run into many problems.
You need to keep them running smoothly in order to stay alive and healthy,
because without them you are nothing.
You are a sorry sack of bones with a beating heart with no purpose.
Unconditional love is taking all the lessons you have ever learned
all the rights and wrongs you have finally learned the difference between and throwing them out the window.
It is the thin line between sanity and insanity,
heaven and hell,
and safety and danger.
You walk the rope
from building to building
without the promise of a net.
Unconditional love
is authentic,
but not emphemeral.
((Love *****, don't do it.))
 Oct 2013 AJ Claus
Zoraida Dooley
My love,
my precious love...
Lie down next to me and count the ticks,
between now and when we shall meet again.
Within my dreams, or the timeless earth,
a resting place for ancient men.
I wish I knew where you were going,
so I could close my eyes and turn away.
And hope with half my missing heart
I'd die to see another day.
But let's let bygones be what they are,
let's let death sing its own song.
Let's go to bed, and just forget
the place our souls truly belong.
We'll kiss like when you and I were young,
your rosy lips and twilight eyes of stars.
But come morning, we'll still say goodbye
as if this night was ever ours.
My love, despite…my love, because...
My love, just sleep as if it was.
Next page