[x]

Their lives were built on lies
their bliss just a facade
for twenty years plus five
they'd vowed before their God
to live and love and laugh
and build forevermore
they hired a household staff
had friends and wealth galore
but life behind the scenes
was filled with booze and sex
he said "it's in the genes"
she said "it's just complex"
the children shook their heads
now grown and on their own
from the time they were kids
ashamed of what was sown

To deconstruct a vow
is treachery indeed
if they had known what they know now
might it have changed their wicked deeds?

The Scarlet of ValorWere we brought forth to be monsters,
Instruments made for channeling deceit?
Where rancor’s lies and hatred feed us,
And another’s misery is our peace?

Just whose shoulders do we stand for?
On this clever grueling affair?
Or do we go and purge on blindly,
Like fish swimming in air?

If its strength we wish to have proven,
Then far too long it has been done.
Done with ways much too impeccable,
Pushing humanity into the slum.

But a commodity without fulfillment,
Will take those without a price.
What we protect goes on to crumble,
But we’re all deaf to our own cries.

Thus from a pain was borne much more,
Like a rained on se

Shut inDon’t mock me, or block me
from taking my stance;
A pity, the city
is caught in a trance.

If only the lonely--
the rich and the poor,
Admit it, we did it!
By shutting our door.

I’d doubt it, without it,
We’d crumble in ruin;
Still, steady, already
forgot what we’re doin’,

We chide the society
for shutting us in--
When really, the “silly”
was us to begin.

No longer warmMy eyes are warm
My heart is cold
You never know
Your grin grows old

You laugh at me
I’m always wrong
Your great friendship
Didn’t last long

I’m your friend
But you’re not mine
My hug is cold
You’ve crossed the line

I no longer want
To be your friend
Face it now
This has to end

How to Know You're Living Rightif today was your last day,
and tomorrow was too late...

if the devil came and knocked on my door,
said, "You'll be given scant hours more."
I'd pack no bags, just jot a note:
"It's been fun, more than I'd hoped,"
and let it flutter to the floor.

if plans you make for your last day,
things you'd want to try and play;
if special times you wish you would,
you're not living as you should...
it doesn't matter anyway.

when the devil comes and knocks on my head,
"This day is your last," he said;
"Keep the change, let's move on out:
last day's ain't what life's about."
I'll race him to his vessel instead.

could you say goodbye to yesterday?

this world will offer...this world will offer a tie for my trust
but no government can raise life from the dust

so i got to remember the truth that resides
when ile follow my heart instead of the lies

that everyones spewd whether like it or not
who knows wut is best in a place that will rot?

so just smile and think 'wut a fool is that guy'
hes not going to college he'll be shoed as a fly

and tho i may not be on record or known
we'll all be remembered for wut we have sown

not wut we have reaped or wut we may claim
achievements or 'honors' as fame is a game

and 'trusty' employers will say they know why
and demanding u orders to follow, or 'bye'

but i got to ask

Something To Believe In...My heart, a field of wildflowers,
Your love can make them bloom.
Fill my head with diamond showers,
And thoughts of golden noons.
Rays of whimsy find your smile,
They dance across your face.
Electric light behind your eyes,
White heat in your embrace.
Smolders linger where you touch,
Refusing to consume.
Tantalizingly preventing
Pleasures known too soon.
Amber soulfire flickers densely
Inside our misted shade.
While heavenly once was our intention,
To desires we abade.
A penny for your thoughts, my dear
Or maybe two, or three,
Surely all the riches I hold
For what you think of me...

Paint the Worlddon't plant your soul deep underground,
only your fears will sprout.
let it soar in the blue sky high,
let it turn you inside-out.

seed the clouds grey and white,
and the colors will rain on down.
dip your brush in puddles wide,
or dance is your drab gown.

Depression's DuelA girl alone, cold and wallowing in the fragments of her soul.
Two beings, Life and Death are locked in mortal combat.
Death strikes first with a furious vengeance.

Death

In her life there is so much strife
Over such trivial matters that mortals fight over
Money, power, looks and lovers
No one cares to give her a fair chance
In death there is a release
Eternal slumber and peace
The world is cruel, just like the gruel she forces herself to eat in defeat

Life

Yes, in your life there are quarrels
and people choose possessions over you.
But remember your little sister who looks up to you.
Your mother who held you through your child hood.
The

CagedLike a lion behind the bars of a cage
My longing for more fills my heart with rage
This rage build and later I realize
Their is nothing I can do to make it subside
My heart wishes for something more
But my spirits trapped behind a cell door
I don't know who has the key
To open these walls and set me free

My eyes miss the wild
The thrill of the hunt
The wonder of a child
My mind being absent
All the while I sit and I stay
Moments fly by as life slips away

What more can I do to feel that freedom again
What more can I say when I don't understand
Where is it that I am meant to be?
Because I know this caged beast is no longer me

Chasing hidden light

Water rolls off of pristine petals
Far beyond the beauty of moist metals

The organic life fighting for the outside
Wanting a life the cage seems to hide

Customary blooms of a sacred nature
Alloy of a colder nomenclature

But beauty always finds a way
No matter the sunlight given through the day

To brake the bonds of a confined space
A battle so many in life have faced

Yet like a broke heart that only wants to decay
The side of the fence has a better light….and I want her to stay.

Awake in my ExistenceLive through others in your proxy
You challenge existence without noises
The only thing you cannot fathom
Is the wakening of your boredom

Awake a life full of illusions
Crave for another lost sweet union
On a realm of cruel destruction
You whisper words of guilt and nonreaction

The frame of death float on your life
Not another hope for the lost souls
Desire, joy in your cortex will subscribe
Stand up choices who belong mentally yours.

what will come tomorrowA darkness is stirring
Inside of me
I struggle from it
But I cant break free
Horrors are abundantly
I lose all I ever held dear
Fading from this world that grows
As my mind wanders with shadows
Peace is something foreign to me
A life of hardships is what I lead
I never seem to be enough
Who thought love would be so tough

Broken mirrors and picture frames
Somehow it is all I blame
I know that something more is left
Other than a quiet death
A surrender, A return to sender
I've been on a bender
And I cant seem to stop these tears
From ringing every fear I have
Bringing it to light and then
Making them my only friend
Braking what little I love

The RemembranceDon’t look back in your past
When you believe the hope is lost;
Your reality is fiction for your brother,
Some things are always destined for the others

The anxiety will hold you in the mist
The loss of words, to reach the summer’s feast,
In hopeful rush you cross the mounds of skulls
To pierce the future who’s waiting for your call

Action and movement seen through dirty lenses
Broken thoughts expecting in defensive,
An inside sorrow to banish it from sight
Unfolded by black magic deeper in the night

Revisit all the moments seen in your strangest life
Recall the memories in which you try to dive,
Do not believe the hope f

DreamsWhat are dreams?

Are they glimpses of life between the seams?

The stitches unraveled and loose,

Bent and slumped over like an obtuse,

Reality torn completely apart,

Hearing now the voice of your heart,

Whispering,

Telling you sweet fables,

Allowing you to feast at its tables,

Changing words into sight,

Inspiring you for life’s fight,

Maybe we aren’t listening,

Deaf and blind yet whistling,

Speaking,

Yet we do not hear,

Entertaining us yet we do not cheer,

Appealing to us but we do not budge,

Ignoring its gentle nudge,

Until it’s repeating itself,

Comfortably lodged on your mind’s shelf,

Shouting,

Burni

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More from ~Zark123

Past Perfect 1864A palette of wanton shades of thirst
quivers to the clang and toll of days
between the enamored hours of dusk
which shadow the realms of the mundane
minutes which encompass the lives
of dreamers in another's dream,
of waiters, of dancers and the dead,
swooning in false conciousness
of a polychrome pumping Elysium.
Nestled by inert Highbury street
where the finches dress in rose and teal
and the walkers come in bulky droves
all for a touch of mortality,
an abrasion of secret lips
and a false hope for progeny.
Silver blinks along the aisles
of cold, ludicrous pommels of sweat
which infuse the den of desolation
and streak the pale, formless trib

In your garden yesterdayIn your garden yesterday
which you lodge among many loves:
a gentle, wishful sway
below the florid eaves;

I noticed the quiet leaves
had weathered each cruel ray
to foster the foxgloves
that flowered today.

By the StrandI still breathe your name by the wavering shore
And cast away to the sail winds a song
And close my eyes and evermore belong
To the unfed brine and its yearning roar.

The distant lamps polish the incensed green,
A flock of fallen stars upon the bay
Alights a dream of a submerged day
And strokes in feud a mind's browbeaten scene.

And standing by the strand I pace and skew
In hope a rising crest will fell or hide
Your voice; yet each raw spate, each rippling tide
Borrows to bestow an echo of you.

To the beautiful people in our imperfect pictures Well, well, well, here we meet again,
you prima ballerina,
you queen of chrome,
you photo assassin,
you perfect click,
you who gave birth to Johann Zahn,
or his brainchild atleast:
the camera obscura - you know what that is?
Surely.
Or at you at a loss for words?
Like the OED is -
when it sees you in THAT picture,
and you look THAT good.
Anyway dearest,
subtleties aside:
I really must say:
this picture was taken -
on a dreary day?
Of course the other explanation - less likely -
will surely cross your mind:
The creator worked on a certain countenance
amid a brutal bout of ping pong
or was she inspired by an English breakfast?
You know -

Sonnet XIXIf I could write the treasure of her eyes
Or yet connote the music in her voice
And still descry scents of each season's prize
In her acute abode of nature's choice,
My years may yet bear me another name,
My days might yet find my purpose once more,
For in her bloom lies a lost poet's fame
And her lithe aspect provokes timeless lore.
If what be truth, exists in mortal art
Then mankind's jewel is in human birth
And to behold the work of one more heart
Resolves each question facing human worth.
Where my senses mate and perceptions meet
There my poem ends and all is complete.

Out of My WindowRecedes the white
Out of the year
Bemoan the night
In wintry tear.

Alas! Away
A reign of snow;
Can spring preserve
The grace of woe?

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Sonnet XX

by ~Zark123, Feb 18, 2013, 3:22:57 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

In time this rime will stir uncounted minds
Each line, each sign shall point another path,
Yet every freight of wonder in whirlwinds
Will answer in bellows like absence's wrath.
And so here I save the unborn a key;
An eye to look upon epochs long past
And gaze with love at time's loved hemlock tree
To fathom all that is deceased did last.
They will say times were varied and diverse,
They will speak of context so as to speak
The world was different on a faded hearse,
They will not give you the mild words you seek,
Remember then we were mortal and thus,
In each profound creation, you are us.

Sonnet XXby ~Zark123

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

And thus, I complete 20 sonnets today.

Poetry reading of this sonnet -> [link]

Critique by ~jjm239 Feb 18, 2013, 6:12:05 PM

Why rime rather than rhyme?

Anyway, to my critique, which I promised you.

You use a lot of imagery, which contradicts my style of attempting to use as many literal objects as possible. However, it does still allow me to see through your message, which I had picked up immediately.

You speak of the desire for knowledge, especially the desire of knowledge for those who wish to explore, to discover the nuances of all things. Mentioning hemlock and mortality, you give the search for this knowledge a sense of futility. Nonetheless, it is still encouragement to learn anything and everything.

You delve into the search for history and into the quest to a future we will never know.

What do you think?

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~Bebopboy Feb 21, 2013

I'll admit I'm a slave to iambic pentameter and I've grown very accustomed with it.
Shakespeares Sonnets have so much imagery, whimsy, and romance. I
consider iambic pentameter to be the most challenging rhyme scheme
thats why I write in it. That being said I thought that this was written
well. I've only written one Sonnet on dA but you seem to have alot of
practice when it comes to this poetry format.

~Zark123 Feb 22, 2013 Student Writer

I started slow and took a while to understand the dynamics of a form which has been in existence for nearly 700 years. I thank you

~vivelaliberte Feb 19, 2013

I like the contradiction of imagery of rime and stiring. The writings and ideas we leave behind are frozen into time, but they are made anew through interpretation. And we are thereby connected to the past, but our own experience with knowledge will never be those beautiful words left before us. We still struggle in the daily grind. I'm very impressed that you captured this in a sonnet. I love this. And that you did 20 Sonnets, I've attempted several and never been satisfied, so kudos. Thank you for sharing.

~Zark123 Feb 22, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you so much for this elaborate comment!

I appreciate it!

~jjm239 Feb 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

What do you mean by, "The world was different on a faded hearse"? It may be over my head, but it doesn't make sense to me, and it's the only line that does this out of the whole thing. Does it refer to the surrounding funerary atmosphere?

If I knew what that one line meant, I'd be making a critique.

~Zark123 Feb 18, 2013 Student Writer

A faded hearse refers to a book with yellowed pages which carries the writings of yesterday

Do I get my critique now?

~jjm239 Feb 18, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Akin to a much older encyclopedia... okay let's see what I can do.

~Zark123 Feb 18, 2013 Student Writer

Hurray!

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