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AstrologicalI have lost myself to
Venus & Mars,
tangled in their mismatched limbs.

Just dream dust & shattered prayers
begging for a new set of skin
(she can't remember where she orbits).

Pluck these fractured wings;
the Sun & Moon no longer ache
to see me fly in their luster.
lies, she wrotei. just a mimicry, really;
uncompromisingly
desperate to shine.

ii. counterfeit & clockwise,
tasting words on her
unworthy tongue.

iii. with a dysfunctional mind
& apocryphal dictionary,
she cannot clone it all.

iv. "say anything," the pen
whispers as she trembles
among ink-scented fraudulence.

v. but she just laughs & plays the part,
forgetting what the pages told her:
"truth is stranger than fiction."
The Pen, The SwordJust lovely
I was happy to fall asleep
in the welcoming warmth of your words and
you were unaware that you held me
so close, and so carefully
from the moment before I heard you speak
to the taste of every sentence you spoke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been seeking all along
Just barely
I was loathe to fall so deep
in the sharpened edges of your words and
you were too aware that you had me
so close, and so carelessly
from the first second I heard you break
to the taste of every sentence you broke
I knew you were the very truth that I'd
been avoiding all along
Death of the PoetDear poetry,
This is your challenge,
my eternal chore,
to restate the truth
like never before-
but I’m imperfect
at my very core
and hypocrisy
is what I abhor
so you may expect
my work to be poor
enough for me to
be crushed into gore
with failed attempts
to take wing and soar
when all I wanted
was something much more
than emptiness and
inherited war
and pointless details
of imagined lore
which most of us tend
to simply ignore
at the piercing sound
of a lion’s roar
or the convenience
of a nearby store…
what am I truly
writing these words for? 
Let’s merely pretend
that this isn’t me
but the voice of God
or L. Ron Hubbard
or whoever you
wish for it to be
since facts remain facts
no matter the source,
no matter the cause,
since the trustworthy
are also humans
prone to failure;
so prone to a fault
that we hold dearly-
the sum of our faith
measured in dollars-
rewarded by credit
and paper money…
for some odd reason
I find this funny!
So I conclude
False EternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days, 
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.
Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!
Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for the moon
then sought the horizon, again and again warned my father that doom
would befall him if he didn't seek a better way to live and be 
I wasn't willing to follow the dark and deadly rules,
trying to bring some light into the lives of these fools.
Guilds of anti-gods were formed, wars rose higher, nothing to atone!
They all represen
ArrheniusThe birds are
keeping to themselves
this evening
as the earth shifts
slightly-
ever so calmly
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have
to move).

Here and there, I
witness these
beautiful strangers
with perfect bodies
and long hair
walking down the road
in tightly knitted packs.
They are animals
like we are animals-
like we are
animals without
claws and fur,
with scratches on our
skin that yields to
fragile and
familiar hands.

The winds respond
as quiet birds rush
from telephone wires
in panic and
in beauty; she
tries to brush the hair
dancing circles in her eyes
(for when you are
this powerful
you only have to move).
False ProphetsPoems and love songs breed dead dreams,
strangled by weeds, face down in the ground
with no roses to mourn them.

Singers are poets that croon
(if you happen to lose your little heart to their tune)
and poets are false prophets -
true love will last forever
if they care to write it,
but not if you swallow the lines...

yet, they always do.

We all have a place
set for us in the shade
in our own private garden of weeds.
False eternityDisillusioned youth was less common in those days,
I assure you, the people even more set in their ways,
murderous and unforgiving, yet unaware of the lie they were living
convinced that faith is stone, they cut faces into gods, they thought
ignorant of the fact that being made rendered useless the very gods they wrought.

Shiny carvings into stone, faces, figures, blessed unknown,
Murders, slaughters, sacrifices of the weak, preaching sins and what they seek.
Forgiveness is not for all, all who do not have will now fall!
Greed consumes the mortal mind, rage is all that's left behind!

Amidst it all I rose and found the sun, disowned him for
Psychotic ramblingsI, in the eternal void rest,
Am the unwanted thirteenth guest,
Insane, deranged and psychotic,
There are people who even call me sick.

Isn't it joyful and greedy to demand
A sacrifice of strangulation at the reach of the hand?
Cure the poisoned in a prison built of mental sand.

Murder is the solution brought by the resolution.
Is this the final, one and only conclusion?
Better think again, there will be no retribution.

Death is not the liberation, just the beginning.
Is there eternal peace? The solution is sinning.
Unacceptable lies become the truth, the chaos keeps spinning.
VoicesDo you hear the moan of morning rhymes
By the people in their endless time
As the morning dew breaks the day
Back to where the city-lights once laid

The lamp-posts are filled with black starlight
As the children run in their flight
With cries of sorrow, cries of pain
The old houses creaking with disdain

Acidic puddles of blood-wet tears
Remain on the street through all these years
As the cracks have hid the crumbled dust
Within these roads of bone and rust

The melody of the birds is lost
To the screeches and screaming loss
There are people cowering in the dark
Murmuring, whispering their tortured remarks

Flames ignite the world in fire
WakefulI remain awake with dreams on my mind
and stories that wait to be knit into books.
To never find comfort until my pillows are 
stuffed with thoughts instead of feathers
To never let go until I made sure that
the moon smiled back at me
Until the trees, the grass, and every night creature
has whispered good night...
And yet I'm still as wakeful as an owl
afraid that sleep would somehow
grab my neck and drag me to my grave.
Shared HappinessI like it better when you're happy.
The world feels like a safe place -
A good place to be.

Stay happy, even in the face
of great adversity
I know these last few years have been...

Well, difficult, to say the least.
But as long as your heart shines
I can hear it...

That devilish smile on your lips
the one no amount of miles
or hardships can erase

Remember, I'm always watching
With the eyes of my heart
I see you clearly

And, as long as you are happy
No matter where this life leads me
Then I am happy too.
Watercolor PainWhen you smile,
I turn colorblind.

It turns into a somersault
whenever I gain contact
with your skin,
bare back touching
bare back.

But I'm not hungry
for bedposts.

I just want to
savor each moment your arms
lock into mine,
the romanticism of
the moons in my eyes
and the skies in your words.

There's smoke
behind all those hues
of hazel and your fingers
are porcelain,
but I still love you.
bad nightmy mistakes are on my head,
and the cigarettes taste like metal;
on the street curb of a suburban block,
the lights jaundiced and flickering
like drunken fireflies, your reflection
that emanates from me covers every face.
HumanDear Hypocrite,

 What do you do?
Throwing insults when you're insulted.

Dear Coward,

 Where went you?
To your "peaceful" sanctuary you have bolted.

Dear Liar,

 What say you?
Your poison corrupts innocent ears.

Dear Human,

 What are you?
A sinner trapped in endless tears.

 
Browse More Like This

More from *KoG-Jakall

HereAmiss the dark
I am alone.
Remember when
we called it home.

I'm still here
and you're far gone.
Am I awake
at this fire bon

My story's changed
with out you dear
but you're so far gone
and I'm still here.

Waiting until you return for me
but I am a fool as you can see.
BottlesIf I had a bottle

filled with my life

I wouldn't open it

I'd just leave it in side.

I would watch

but never interact

never take away

and never give back

none of my problems

would be mine to bare

nor none of my hate

not a bit of my fear

but if my life was in a bottle

what would be the point

what would I be with out it

and what would it be with out me?

It would be nothing at all

and the same goes for me

so what then,

my non-existing self

would have a non-existing life

in a very real bottle?

Why do I think like this

and dive myself crazy?

And if that bottle were real

and it contents were not

wouldn't that make the bottl
Your Existance's Bane.Here comes the flame
out of the night
Here comes the blame,
in stupidity, FIGHT!

Do you know how it feels
When the mask is removed
do you know all the pain
or how my health it's improved?

It's easy to hide
when you stand alone.
sit in the tide,
of sand, make a throne.

What you have is power
and you think that's control
but you are not even close
for I can fight with my soul

So come at me bro!
Bring all of your hate.
You've hit a new low
ever considered fate?

We are destine to duel
and be bitter foes
I do hope I can win
but who really knows.

Today we shall meet
and the fire shall rise
You have become obsolete
now m

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Patterns

:iconkog-jakall:

Luck is a part of my destiny,
like love is a part of yours.

Don't you see the pattens repeating,
like that rhythmical beating
in your chest up and down?

Lets  go round and round
and stomp the ground
of this hollow Earth,
and in ideas give birth,
to something truly new.
Ideals partaken by few.

We can kiss this violence good bye,
and with our spirit wings take flight
into the night and dream away
All the pain of these horrid day.

Don't you see the patterns now?
The who, what, when, and how?
Spinning lies within our lives
and stirring truths
and bloody knives.
There were once days
when we were free
in those days
we were who we'd be.

That patten fades both up and down
I with luck will in solace frown,
While you with love,
In life drown.

Don't you see the patters?

31

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:iconkog-jakall:

Patternsby *KoG-Jakall

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They dictate all we do.
Category: Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

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Submitted on
January 10
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:iconhughesation:
Critique by ~Hughesation Jan 10, 2013, 1:52:34 AM
An excellent piece, with powerful emotive imagery, that leaves the reader truly touched.
The use of changing structure, with a rhyming thread weaved throughout the poem give a unique pattern of words, and altered the flow, making it an entertaining read.
The use of repetition of the phrase "do you see the patterns?" weaves another thread, a concept tying the piece together from start to finish, yet not repeating so many times as to make the piece samey.
The piece has a wonderful theme, and it's executed brilliantly; *KoG-Jakall has crafted a real gem, that will leave a powerful impact on all those who have the pleasure of reading it.
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