Welcome to my poetry section.  All of the following poems are original works by moi, so do not take them without my written permission, or I will find you out, hunt you down, and do horrible things that only a demon could do to you.  And we don't want that, do we?  Of course not.  So for your reading pleasure, here is part of what I call my 'Untitled Works', for obvious reasons.

Untitled I

In all of us there dwells a hole,
A deep, abyssmal chasm
That leads into the dark, the very
Depths of our immortal souls.
A scream, a curse,
A horrid shriek, rising
Out of the darkness,
The shadowy recesses
That we try to ignore,
Pretend do not exist,
Those recesses that show themselves
In our dreams,
During the darkest hours
Of the darkest days,
Times best to leave thoughts
Of that nature
Alone, in their pitch-black corners.
The corridors of our minds
Are full of cobwebs,
Spiders and dust,
Snakes and goblins and trolls,
Ghouls and spirits,
Those that inhabit the darkness.
The devils, the daemons, Liches, wraiths;
Minions of darkness,
Legions of Beezlebub;
Followers of Lucifer;
Armies of darkness;
Dancers of the great waltz,
The leaders of the dance of Mephistopheles.
Satan beckons;
All of the creatures of the night
Emerge to the summon
Of their master Evil.
To feel their touch, to hear their voice
Is to call to him who searches all out.
He approaches, dark as the daylight,
Bright as pitch.
His black cape flutters about his thin,
Corpulent body.
His thin, thick-fingered hands,
Smooth, cracked skin clinging pudgily to his bones,
Caress your face with burning cold strokes.
You feel the sharpness of his blunt nails
Against your cheek;
His eyes pierce softly into yours
From his ageless, time-worn face.
He opens his mouth, speaks with his voice,
Bellowing softly, high bass flowing,
Dischord ruling as his melodious words
Rise and fall like the wind :
'I am that which always is
And ever shall be.
None will escape me,
As all will feel my touch.
Alpha and Omega,
The Beginning and the End.
I am that which Is.
Eternity.'

Untitled II

Aching...

Deep inside my heart,
Right inside my soul,
Because that is where
You should be.
I guess it's always been you,
But I never noticed.
Right inside me there's a little
Place you should have been.
At times there was a hope,
A ray of light in the dark,
Extinguished by one I can not
Bring myself to envy;
Who am I to wish away
Someone like you from
A person such as her?
The deserving get.
Those who knock receive.
As for those of us
Who do not receive,
The rest of us, the mortals
Cast upon this planet,
This desolate, destroyed, doomed,
Cold, dark, stoney planet,
We get that termed 'leftovers',
The unwanted pair with hopeless,
Destitute and greedy;
Meek, ill; weak, and wasted;
Uncomely, unintelligent;
Unforgiven, uncared for, ungainly.
Unloved.
The world revolves right past us,
Leaving us behind
In the wind and dust,
Taking along those with it
Whom Fate has blessed so greatly.
Beauty beyond belief,
Looks reserved
For angels themselves,
Images to be viewed with the soul,
Not the eyes,
To be relished, glimpses stored
In the mind to call upon
In times of bitter anguish.
Talents that should not
Be overlooked,
But used in ways to help
Better the world, humanity.
But the greatest gift,
The most special of all
That Fate has bestowed upon you
Is that which is not inside,
Is not a feeling,
A look,
Or something to be touched.
It is used throughout your lives,
Daily,
And should be treasured
As the special gift it is,
That one thing that can get you
Through the long and lonely nights,
Depression, saddness,
Deep, bitter sorrow;
Never forget or take for granted
The gift you have forever more :
Each other.

Untitled III

Oh death, where is thy sting?
I call to you from the dark
And you have yet to show yourself
To me.
The others you come for,
Those undeserving persons
Meant to live long lives,
To live meaningful lives.
What of us who serve
No purpose, who float through life's
Flotsam and jetsam
Like tiny, tiny parasites
Living in the waters,
Taking that which we need,
But others may need more?
An aching grows,
A bitterness appears,
Lodged within my chest,
A beating heart of pain and anger.
My other heart is dead, consumed
By this new pulsating organ within me.
It palpitates, beating out a rhythm
Of life I do not wish to live.
When there is nothing left to live for,
Does one still have a life?
When does the darkness
Finally close in,
Covering you like a blanket,
Taking away the light like the setting of the sun?
I see the sunset,
But misty, murky;
The sky is filled with boiling clouds,
Angry black and churning towards me.
The cold of the rain stabs into me
Like minute daggers of ice.
The pain inside increases as
My new heart pounds faster, faster.
If only it would burst,
Would explode in a rush
Of blood, my lifeblood,
Out of my body
And dripping slowly onto the floor.