Loving Hands Cause Pain

Loving hands cause pain

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

For without you

For without you
forsaken among the roots
but a glimpse at your foliage
in awe of vivid palette
in contrast I, in shaded anguish

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

Poetry of the Deprived

In unpleasant dreams, I’ve heard you weep
beneath the Umbrous willow trees
the creek does mourn your shade forlorn
you’ve laid your tired bones within the flow.

The sun has dreamt it’s final bow, among the sullen stage so dreary now,
midnight remains resolute upon your brow, the crepuscular vestige is your crown.

From the darkest eve, comes a fevered steed,
famished, wanton lust for the husk to feed.

To stare into the dismembered hours, the void of sorrow,
painful flesh devoured, I call your name unto the stars,
etched into the night once ours.

You come to me veiled in black, vested in the shroud of agony that scalds my flesh,
embrace my piteous alms, my derided and indecorous banquet,
from the black meadows a petulant fest.

Through the windows come cold whispers cavorting with anguished blasphemes,
you speak my name as if to maim,
my sanity canters away on mare which drinks from your streams.

Into my dream seeps vitriol, forsaken is the lamb at slaughter,
as you imbibe my tremulous life I slip downstream farther…

In the waters of your resolution, to drown me in the mire of confusion,
you and I litanize the poetry of the deprived.

Loving Mother

In time through the whispered years
no love greater has there been
the caress that wipes the tears
words softly soothe the sleeved heart pinned
upon the arm once so young
now wiser, warmer it has become
and though no longer I slumber upon your chest
its still as though I grasp onto every breath

Dreary Meadow

I hear such rancid word
calling from maddening depths
from the umbrous meadow
forlorn is the verdant spring
where the winged husks sing

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

The Feeding

This wretched skin, shedding among the dimly lit stars,
the sonata that harkens the storm, deluge of beastly origins,
akin to the gloom hours that prey on fear,
and among the ravenous maw, distasteful rhetoric,
cursed whispers that fall on dilapidated husks,
the hunger, the sinful hunger…

the intent is of abysmal inspiration, hades bears it’s teeth,
and frenzy unfurled into soft flesh,
satiate this hellish thirst and ataraxia upon my palpitating megrim,
the sorrow that pleads with it’s penance, vindictive among its sins,
the fury, the unsettling fury…

the hunt morbid, and calamity be damned,
to feed the vultures once in servitude to their cages,
these eyes! what visceral humanity they have witnessed!
and taste the flesh in offering to my essence,
pain me no more! plea to the stars!
pain me no more! and silence in response,
the tranquility, the vexing tranquility…

day breaks upon my senses and from black the cadence ceases,
what dance has partaken, strides upon cadavers,
and to weep among the remains, beauty in resentful mourning,
sing to me o’ ye remains! speak about the acts cast upon your flesh by mine ripping teeth!
and alas the silence, a song in of itself,
the lyric, the mournful lyric…

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

Lust and Dream

Wove ye dream and hung from moon

with bridle that enthralls the night

when on ghastly mare rides sinful delights

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

Us

From within the solitude and gloom
in the dying light that was
comes the weeping muse
her crescendo mourning us

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

No Contrition for Blood

From where the umbrous hand doth reach
In the mist among the silent stars
to grasp within its cold conniving
my slumber upon the beasts hassock

I sleep within hungered maw
enticing famished ferality upon my crown
obsequious flesh for the abominable banquet
on the pyre, sweet aroma, sweet, lustful aroma

In the light of the burning moon
and blackened stars that harken demise
lo upon the nameless one
who laps at your miserable cries

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

One the Eve

On the eve of your lips
whisper to me silent breath
the scent that stirs the heavens
and the kiss that placates the devils
ever dark gloom

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved