280. The Death of Dreams

in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay

Remember when you dared to dream?

Remember when you still had hope?

When the world held possibilities,

And time was vast in scope?

Remember when you dared to trust?

Remember when you still saw good?

When you looked into a persons’ eyes,

And expected brotherhood?

Now you always expect the worst.

That people are working an angle.

And when you look into anothers’ eyes,

You expect your heart they’ll strangle.

And now you don’t know how to dream.

And hope just makes your heart cry.

For you look in the mirror and all you see,

Is a vessel almost bled dry…

Just waiting ’round to die.

Remember when you used to think,

Someday you’d find some salvation?

And be saved from the death of dreams,

By some empathy or consolation?

Now all you think is that it’s late,

And hopes and dreams: for the young.

And daydream what might have been,

If your dreams weren’t left unsung.

You close your eyes and fantasize,

In your daily dissociation,

About how you and things might have been,

If just one person had offered validation…

Before the eleventh hour.

K. Aldaya,  11/2/14

Picture:  “In the Mirror” by Sad-Cat on Deviant Art: http://sad-cat.deviantart.com/gallery/; http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2011/135/b/a/in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay.jpg

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276. Bloody Hands

alice hysteria

Red as sun-lit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

In my hand is an old-withered rag of white,

And in my soul a battlefield,

Plays a ghostly reenactment of the costly fight.

–Bloody is the rag which tries to hide a guilty soul,

Yet bloodier are the hands which clean without a rag that’s whole.

Red are these hands and the only I have known,….

Are these hands with fresh-blood dripping…

Dripping, and dripping guilt and pain; scrubbing all alone.

Blue as restless oceans crashing to the shore,

Are the tears which crash to the earth,

Never enough to clean the hands of an old child-whore.

–Red as sunlit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

K. Aldaya, 8/19/14

Picture: Inspired by American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns; Artist Unknown; http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maly49hnQp1qkuk8lo1_500.jpg

238. Inside My Head

room-with-bed-fineartamerica.com-GaryHeller

Inside my head.

A couch.  A bed.

A world.  A dream.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A girl.  A ghost.

One hiding.  One host.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

She’s tortured.  She’s dead.

Over and over…

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A shadow.  A man,

With perverse plan.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

He haunts.  He hunts.

He torments.  He affronts.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A blackness.  A shape.

A darkness.  A rape.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A demon.  A hell.

Fear; despair dwell,

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

As I lie down in bed.

Wake to the dread…

In my head…

…..In my head.

K. Aldaya, 04/25/13

Picture: by Gary Heller; http://www.garyhellerphotography.com/album/abandoned-places?p=1#25

232. A Sick Joke of a Poem

everything_dies_by_msdudettes-d5iwsd9

What is the point?

Tell me what could it be?

What could be the use of life so lone and empty?

I’m tired of trying to lie to myself.

This life of a prison suffocates me!

Hate my body.

I despise all the games.

I’m tired of playing all these filthy games!

I love my family so much it hurts.

The joy I find in them hell quickly claims.

No matter what…

No matter what I do;

They will die, or I, and time will fade what we knew.

No longer will I hold them or see them.

E’er left with bitter-dreams of phantoms I once knew.

It is all wrong!

I have to fix this joke.

What a sick f***in’ joke this is…A sick joke!

How can I enjoy what will not last?

Love deeply this flower….now watch it choke?

K. Aldaya, 09/13/12

Picture:  “Everything Dies” by thefoxandtheraven at Deviant Art; http://thefoxandtheraven.deviantart.com/art/Everything-Dies-334093725?q=sort%3Atime%20%28%28everything%20dies%29%20AND%20%28by%3ATheFoxAndTheRaven%29%29&qo=0

183. Note to Self: That’s What You Get

Can_you_see_the_ghost__IV_by_Supermalade

Why can’t I forget those days?

Those lingering memories: a phase,

Of life so long since passed.

Though hours and years have flown away,

The visions burn and steadily prey,

Upon my undead soul.

None bring up, but sights remind,

That the past is well behind,

Yet still so felt and real.

Hate is there for its’ own sake;

Hating the hate that lies awake,

To chaos hope with guilt.

Hate and love both held within,

Wailing loud of selfish sin.

Who cares how things had been!

This life is hard for everyone.

Isn’t mine just another one?

Lacking a strong spirit?

Weakness and self-pity there,

Deep in my mind, create despair.

Unwarranted. Unjust.

I’m the real freak and con,

The one who cannot move on.

Who keeps evil alive.

I deserve what I feel here,

Every pain and every tear;

Figments of a horrid head.

I cannot forget those days.

Dreams and memories a haze,

Of pre-tarnished truth.

Nothing will e’er change what be,

Within a heart that cannot see,

That it should settle for,

Deserving pain forever.

K. Aldaya, 11/4/05

Picture:  “Can You See The Ghost? IV” by AlexandraSophie on Deviant Art; http://www.deviantart.com/art/Can-you-see-the-ghost-IV-165270619

160. Heavens’ Angels

flying_angel_by_najae_crazy-d5pplgo

Angels whisper secrets on the wind,

Barely sensed, but by the sinned.

Tortured-wails resonate,

In these endless nights of late.

Sifting through spirit skinned,

Seeking paths to heavens’ gate,

Brushing our eyes of glass, froze,

In the evenings as we doze.

Reinforcing haunts of thought,

In embrace of what’s forgot.

Comfort lit-star shows…

Hence, gone, and not.

Begging mercy for souls tonight,

On wings of angels’ flight.

As we softly rest weak bones,

Gently as wind music drones,

And settles within ears light…

“Sinned are thee”, where love unowns.

Flagrant transgressions made,

We shed on face to never fade.

And lo’ the angelic-tenants,

Of gloried sight and fertile scents,

Soar o’er field and glade.

Longing for heart-lands dense.

But few are we who grow no life,

No trees branched to the afterlife.

We close our eyes at night to pray,

Knowing our sins are bound to stay.

For the moon so crisply rife,

Shines in our hearts of gray.

Shameful existence of…

Supplications to above.

Seraphs celestially abide.

Not near we mortals a-died,

Unable for to have love…and..

E’er reach Zions’ reside,

On angels flown in skies above.

K. Aldaya, 8/27/05

Picture:  “Flying Angel” by NaJae-Crazy on Deviant Art; http://najae-crazy.deviantart.com/art/Flying-Angel-345515496

158. Give Me a Hand

ALBUM10

I saw its hand reach out to me.

In the dark it nightly watched,

Stalking my soul as a decree.

No choice: it had to have me.

Closer and closer it notched.

Its’ ghastly hand found once,

A place upon my shoulder cold.

Why is this only what it hunts?

My eyes cared only of confronts,

So they turned back to behold.

O’ what a hideous game to play,

There I saw nothing but black,

And a dim-hand far away.

O’ to offer…then steal away,

And accentuate the lack.

I painfully motioned hand outward,

To grant forth what I thought it sought.

How could I know this was absurd?

To know what this could have spurred?

It joined my hand not.

I stumbled to move in near.

Bones broke and blood teared down,

But no longer did I fear!

Then it…o yes…did disappear,

And I was left to drown.

Death is a demons’ jester-pawn.

Walking our eyes upon its’ path.

All made and held swiftly gone,

In pursuit of this path it’s on.

To fall, then arise, a living blood-bath.

And death: vast years away,

Laughs the empty hours away.

K. Aldaya, 8/14/05

Picture: “Scary Shadow” by krowngraphics; http://krowngraphics.webs.com/apps/photos/photo?photoid=43873623

156. Falling Rain

6a00d8354c582769e201156f1bc479970c-500wi

The body won’t forget what the mind wants to,

So I’m stuck with these old feelings,

And a constant aching-clue,

As to why there are no ceilings,

On this house or any other.

A protective realm of dry,

Under the blackened shadows of the rainy sky.

Bones rust and rot, …hoping to die.

The mind doesn’t want to recall what the body’s kept,

For the mind escaped somewhere while the body slept.

Dreams…0’dreams have brought me here,

To this time I own,

But skin decays, in gripped portrays,

Of storms the mind’s disowned.

The body won’t forget what the mind longs to.

The damage is already done,

Though God’s pulled the years through,

Out of the flood and mounting mud,

Having no reason…not one…haven’t a clue,

For the hours and minutes here are,

Undeserving of a mind.

In a cursed tomb as this with no covering to find….

And there’s one drop…more behind.

K. Aldaya, 8/6/05

Picture:  “Rain Drops” by Austin Tolin on Flickr; https://www.flickr.com/photos/austintolin/124121992/in/set-72057594085954911

154. Shadows

reflection_of_death_by_corvinerium_by_corvinerium-d5vd70l

The shadows of the night…

Those raven travailing mysteries,

Of the deaths proven contrite,

To any acceptable causalities,

In the slaying of virgin light.

(Which loyally escape in fright!)

Granting each gravestone stern,

A momentary flit of indication,

In the tranquil earth all earn,

When time meets Gods’ discretion,

And bowing, falls in lost sojourn.

O’ shadow-phantoms which be,

Present thyself to querying minds…

The dead, floating on a moonlit sea,

Which count stars each sky finds,

Misunderstandably.

For ask me not how or why,

You must journey in midnights’ hush,

Tormenting dead and living nigh,

With what can be or not lush,

In Hell, on Earth, or heaven high.

Spoiled with bones and memories;

Creaks and moans in shadows wither,

Tears fall as leaves on cold fall trees,

Drowning the dead, unmoving hither.

Casts of portrayed black air,

Curse the dreaming dead,

By stomping on graves made there,

Waking and calling up from bed,

To glance with eyes, the ended care

(Visions they no longer share).

The blood-thirsty and ever tired,

Thrown with pulsed beats and motions,

Seek for what should be acquired,

In learning how to sail the oceans,

To find that sinkings are required.

Carved silhouettes ashen,

Somberly turn glances once wild,

To the tombs of times’ crash-in.

The cries of every once-held child,

In scars of graystone and sin.

O’ those black silent pictures,

Of what can soon or far-off be,

Shown in burnt coal blurs….

The internal imagery,

Of what ever-endures,

As eternal destiny.

K. Aldaya, 7/27/05

Picture:  “Reflection of Death” by Corvinerium on Deviant Art; http://corvinerium.deviantart.com/art/Reflection-Of-Death-355014597

62. Fading Light

I knew the minute I walked in the door,

That nothing was as it had been before.

Though every piece was still in place,

From hall to dining room, in all its’ grace.

stained-glass-room

The setting sun through stained-glass gleamed.

No lights on, and how alive it seemed!

If only for a moment it will last,

Then store it away in memories vast.

For with the ending of this day,

All life from here shall fade away.

Take a seat amid vibrant light-streams,

In darkening den, to your dreams.

Sit in the  moments ceasing glow,

And contemplate times’ vivid flow.

Wasn’t it just recently the dawn of this day?

Now it’s near gone!

Remember this mornings’ bright sun?

You were here and this misery was none.

Remember when your voice echoed here,

Through the walls…rang so clear.

Remember the last words you said.

“Bye, Love you”, pounds in my head,

As you walked out this homes’ door never to return here evermore.

The sun has set.

All light has left.

In dark I lie loathsomely bereft.

And Yes, I knew the minute I walked in the door,

That your light is fading to some far-off shore,

And darkness will fill its’ place forevermore.

K. Aldaya, 6/27/04 (a.k.a. K. Batza)

Picture:  “Beit El Deen Palace: Stained Glass Room” by beirutmabitmoot; https://beirutmabitmoot.wordpress.com/2011/10/19/526/

52. Lost to the Night

abyss_by_ishutani-d5ztss6

Amid darkness the large oak trees,

Reach out to me in the breeze.

The darkness hovers over my head.

The black clouds continually stomp and tread.

No stars can be seen, nor moon.

I only hope that day come soon.

Lost in black I feel them near,

And hear their screaming in my ear.

The voices that linger in great sadness,

And eternally dwell in darks’ abyss.

I can feel their full heart pain,

And the madness in their brain.

My head is pounding and pounding,

With all the pain resounding.

The dark swallows my last daylight,

And I am lost into the night.

K. Aldaya, 3/23/04

Picture: Abyss by Ishutani on Deviant Art: http://ishutani.deviantart.com; http://th02.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/f/2013/089/8/6/abyss_by_ishutani-d5ztss6.jpg

49. The Monster

terror-eye_1024x768_76579
It is behind me,

I must keep running,

This thing is ever so cunning.

It chases afar,

I can’t stop to rest,

Hunting me, it’s at its’ best.

It never will stop, nor let me forget,

That I deserve it’s constant threat.

At times so near, that I can hear it,

Breathing and yearning for just one hit.

To take me down to its’ stormy lair,

A pit of utterly loathsome despair.

I must keep moving,

No stopping to hide,

It can sense where I reside.

My fear, it draws it, ever closer; closer.

Always there it will not deter.

Keep on running,

No! Don’t turn around!

Keep going ’til you lose its’ sound.

The sound that echoes,

That pains and taunts,

The minds of those it eternally haunts.

The darkness around,

It hinders my flight,

But doesn’t obstruct my pursuers’ sight.

I’m lost in darkness,

Confused and afraid….Run!..,

Through a world without any sun.

In the darkness it swiftly flies,

Glaring at me with its’ flaming eyes.

I often can hear the pounding in my ears,

Its’ heart beating, throbbing me to tears.

I must keep running!

Forever move faster!

To avoid a potential horrific disaster.

I must stay strong,

Keep moving ahead,

So I don’t end up worse than dead.

K. Aldaya, 3/21/04

Picture:  Artist Unknown; http://imgs.mi9.com/uploads/scary/4348/terror-eye_1024x768_76579.jpg

42. Little Girl

child hiding from dad

Hello little girl I once was,

Are you doing what a little girl does?

You aren’t like all those others,

You are a girl that hides under-covers.

Other little girls don’t do that,

Sneaking and tip-toeing ’round like a cat.

When the night-moon’s up on high,

You don’t sleep but lie and cry.

Little girls aren’t this bad,

They don’t keep their parents mad.

Little girl why is it, that you so often get a hit?

Why are you so often loud?

You know talking’s not allowed.

You can now hide in here,

In the closet hide from fear.

Little girl come out! Come out!

Can’t you hear your daddy shout.

You must leave your cave now,

And greet the thrash of bad’s endow.

Little girl I hate you so,

Why can’t you disappear and go?

You shouldn’t even breathe their air,

You don’t deserve one single hair.

Why are you so disgusting?

You’re such an awfully messed-up thing.

Little girl go hide again.

Stay there ’til I tell you when.

Close your secrets in with you,

Shut them ever in there too.

Little girl your secrets, they,

Must stay forever locked away.

Little girl you need not show,

How you’re badder than they know.

You, yourself, brought this on,

So you deserve what’s foregone.

Hello little girl I know well,

Keep your soul locked. Never tell!

secrets keep

K. Aldaya, 3/08/04

Picture 1:  Photographer Unknown; http://erebusteam.net/attachment.php?attachmentid=1240&d=1368782526

Picture 2:  Photographer Unknown; http://www.soc.ucsb.edu/sexinfo/sites/default/files/child.jpg