Styx' Poetry Thread

Discussion in 'Archives' started by Styx, Sep 26, 2008.

  1. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    @Forgotten Hymn: English is much easier for me, even though my country has a French-speaking region. I don't know any Spanish though, sorry.

    Comment: As promised, here are my German ones (with translations). You'll notice that the tone of these poems is much different than the ones in French. Hope you'll enjoy them!

    Kinder Von Asche

    Kannst du sie noch sehen?
    Lachende Kinder
    Die Gabe habe ich vergeudet
    Ich sehe und höre nur
    Das Lächeln von dem Feuer

    Die Welt kennt mein Geheimnis
    Mein Liebelingsspielzeug ist Leid
    Aber jedes Mal wenn ich spiele
    Sollen der Grund, das Wasser
    Und der Himmel mich hassen

    Wissen sie dann nicht
    Dass Ãœberfremdung von Unschuld
    Uns allen schadet?
    Wissen sie dann nicht
    Dass ich je auch ein Mensch war?

    Children Of Ashes

    Can you still see them?
    Laughing children
    I have squandered that gift
    I only see and hear
    The smiling of the fire

    The world knows my secret
    My favourite toy is pain
    But every time I play
    The earth, the water
    And the heavens will hate me

    Don't they know then
    That hyperxenesis from innocence
    Hurts us all?
    Don't they know then
    That I was human once too?​


    Wenn Geliebte sich aufgeben
    Sich über einander falzen
    Um die Wolken zu schauen
    Dann werde ich ihre steinern Blicke tragen und ich baue mir einen schwarzen Turm
    Ein Turm mit erwürgenden Armen soll den Hals von Sonnenlicht brechen
    Er soll mir alle Wolken geben
    Denn ich habe keine Geliebte
    Also darf ich Wolken schauen​

    Mourn Cross

    When lovers give eachother up
    Fold themselves over one another
    To stare at the clouds
    Then I will carry their stone gazes
    And build me a black tower
    A tower with strangling arms
    Will break the sunlight's neck
    He'll give me all the clouds
    For I have no lover
    So I may stare at the clouds​
  2. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Comment: Major bump! Well, I'm the thread creator and this is the Creativity Corner so I'm allowed to, hehe. I finished a new poem just now!
    I haven't written anything in quite a while, so I wouldn't be surprised if my skills have gotten rusty. I miss my glory days where I could write a poem every other day or so. With my quantity and yield on an extremely low level, I just hope the quality of the pieces makes up for it. Please tell me what you think of this! I'd appreciate it immensely.

    The Watchers Who Never Sleep

    I'm smelling kindred sweat
    Familiar exhaustion
    Where am I?
    And where are all the others?

    I let my talons fling
    Discovering the wall of this circle pit

    "We're all blindfolded angels!
    Come climb the spire,
    Tie a ribbon round these dismal times!"

    My echo teases me, my wings dissolve
    I relapse into the womb of insecurity

    I wipe my tracks away with a bushel of questions
    Such as...
    Is this the apocalypse? Or just a higher state of awareness?
    Is this every voice in unison or just mundane dissonance?
    Am I being vigilant or simply paranoid?
    We could be all be watchers who never sleep
    What else is there to do when we are lying wide awake?

    Sometimes I freak myself out
    I drool over my own sentience
    And yet my senescence makes me weep
    I find myself face to face with a shore of dust
    Surfing on the waves of fatalism
    I collide with the horizon's blade
    In its resentment my body oozes the frailty gene
    The link I share with all of humanity
    I behold it spelling the answer I sought

    It seems...
    It seems as if...
    Humans are just nutrition for a seed
    A glutton who revels in our fatigue
    I kick its membranes in a fit of rage
    What are you waiting for?
    Squeeze the last droplet out of us
    Plow your shoot through the darkness at last
  3. Chevalier Crystal Princess

    Jan 8, 2008
    Trapped on an Island
    What is this poem about? I wonder...I understand it, but I can't seem to place it together...But...I mainly think it has something to do with the struggles of humanity and the existance of a higher being...or not.

    I like it, as always...just would like some more insight on this.
  4. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Quite close. Replace "higher being" with "higher goal" and we're getting there.
    It's about how individual achievements require much effort while in the end they are forgotten. The protagonist of this poem gradually realises that a collective destination is one that will actually be able to make a difference. No one hears him/her out, and (s)he eventually understands that (s)he has no other choice than to be exploited as long as no one agrees to co-operate. Tired of strife and fighting battles, (s)he tries to have his/her way through coercion, which is where the poem ends and his/her goals are revealed.

    Comment: Mind as well post another one here. This one is old and probably not so good seeing as I recall writing it on auto-pilot.

    Paso Doble

    What's the point of lying awake
    And parrying a camisado?
    When a sunburn too is bold enough
    To land a critical bastinado

    Dominance is timidity's shadow
    The Achilles heel lead
    Since there is always bitter spite
    In every victory creed

    Don't merely fear the bad
    Fear the bad behind the good
    As many fools before you
    Have never understood
  5. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Comment: A while ago Forgotten Hymn asked me if I could still make cute and simple poems. To tell you the truth, I haven't really tried lately. But I did find some older poems which may fit that description more or less. While they might contain some imagery, there is no deep meaning to them at all. So yeah, kick back and enjoy (hopefully).

    5 Heads Of The Chimaera

    Does she have beautiful eyes?
    Like shiny marbles, worthy of stealing?
    Then be quick, before they're ahead of you
    Before the difference between thief and loot fades out
    On second thought, don't covet them at all

    Does she have soft hair?
    The kind that travels all the way to no man's land?
    Then watch how it tries to flee
    How it plays hit-and-run from a crime uncommitted
    And how it slams the doort shut behind you

    Does she have a slim waist?
    A vase that carries an overly complex bouquet?
    Carrying more flowers, it would burst
    And she's not in the mood to do any such thing
    So keep your roses already

    Does she smile a lot?
    Bends order with the thread between her jaws?
    Mind the ambiguity
    With you, at you...She even smiles without you
    Her smile is her own significant other

    Does she have a friendly demeanor?
    Each word a chord vibe of a harp piece?
    It's just a one-woman elation
    How stunning her singularity looks
    Composed of happinesses of every kind



    I'd never tell
    But I dedicate every verse of every song
    To you alone
    When I'm inspired by the shrines I visit
    Love is funny
    Since its detailed design completely escape me
    What I know
    Is not half the things that I perceive
    I never told
    I taught myself to be silent when I'm clueless
    Better than letting it echo to those who shouldn't hear it

    I'll never tell
    They whisper that I'd blur a perfect picture
    Perhaps once
    When the side of me that makes sense
    Takes a nap
    I'll dare dropping off a note at your epicenter
    A letterbomb
    Blasting civilization in motion again
    That's a lot of talk
    For someone who doesn't allow himself to speak
    But for now
    I'll just shut up and admire everything you do


    Wondering, Pondering, And Learning To Hate

    You are not meant
    To be that which you dreamt
    So easily you give in
    And accept hell with a grin

    Right when Light intervenes
    You don't want to break through
    But when the Dark stalks the scenes
    You're somehow there too

    Under the guise of a martyr
    You smile and condemn
    Only making things harder
    For you and for them

  6. Chevalier Crystal Princess

    Jan 8, 2008
    Trapped on an Island
    Well, yes. These last three are simpler than most of your work, just like "Paso doble".

    So, yeah...I guess you can still write simpler things. I don't really think your poems to be beautiful, though. I think they are something else, but beautiful is not the word i'd use to describe them.
  7. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Comment: Three more poems. The first two are older (they're directly implemented in one of my stories but it doesn't look like I'll translate it anytime soon so here are the poems for you), the last one is new from today. I hope you enjoy them.

    Wanton Passion

    She teases and pleases in this pantheon of pestilence
    With wanton passion wriggling underneath her dress
    And as a crippling crescent she swings suavely
    A pendulum, the lust child of Crave and Continuum

    Searching or waiting, but he will be welcome
    A man with a plan who cracks his knuckles
    Who deposits D-Day in pots of porcelain
    Rendering questions rhetorical:

    "You shall deal in devils
    But ye be forwarned
    Once the calligraphic promise will become
    A thriller with a climatic cliffhanger"

    Now If you'd just sign here...


    Rusty Scythe

    There are worms in every apple
    Like veins of a hidden ailment
    Digesting themselves due to their own secretion
    Ironic regrets, unsuitable reproaches
    The residue flows through all certainities

    There aren't enough birds for all the worms
    But there are enough crows for all the seeds
    There aren't enough harvests for all the mouths
    But there are enough worms for every harvest

    The best farmer is himself a scarecrow
    Allows himself to be digested by his vermin
    The reaper doesn't target the pessimist
    Hence the farmer smiles at his rotten domain
    And chooses his solace in the doubt of benefit


    Gagged By Bandoleers

    Every vibe peels away another ray of hope
    Flies in each corpse carry their homes aboveground
    Decrepit depravity mingles with fresh filth of mind
    The battlefield vibrates on this explosive stampede
    One more tremor and the earth lies in the nude

    No umbrella will hush this rain of grenades
    Clouds as black as kindness corrupted
    Gather round the ticking bomb, my head
    As a choking sphincter it blankets my voice
    Man is gagged by bandoleers forevermore
  8. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Under The Wheels Of Deceit

    Kill, reanimate and repeat
    See the armada disembark
    Hear the sails cackle their conceit
    Feel the seas in your mind turn dark

    Burn bridges and douse the fires
    Kill, reanimate and repeat
    Roadkill under diamond tires
    Life under the wheels of deceit

    I am not the person to meet
    Angels of speed have dirty plans
    Kill, reanimate and repeat
    Accelerate for shorter spans

    I crash on life as a storm's breath
    Sweep as hurricanes as I fleet
    I'm a boulevard to my death
    Kill, reanimate and repeat

    Comment: This one is dedicated to all my yuppie friends who drive in awesome cars, hang out in fancy bars, treat women like trash and experiment with painkillers they don't need. I love you guys!
  9. Chevalier Crystal Princess

    Jan 8, 2008
    Trapped on an Island
    I'm still thinking wether to enjoy your poems because they are so intricately woven, or just pox them for wrecking my mind. Nah...I'm joking, with these poems I have to think, and that's always a good thing. I enjoyed them all, but the last one had a nice flow it ends with said flow, is amazing.

    I know I take my sweet time to reply, though...sorry for that.
  10. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    X Across This Shame

    Unto me send your prayers
    For the lovesongs I have slaughtered
    One still cringes its final frills
    My raven quill I dip
    Into the emotions of the dead
    To slash this romances's last letters
    To carve an X across this shame

    I want filthy hands to paint my walls
    The colours of rock-bottom
    No shades of mercy can shelter me
    No hope, no grace encompass me
    While tasting exes on my tongue
    Tracing why's across my whispers
    Catching z's on the job
    Of giving my life meaning

    Comment: An emo poem about a lost love to make you all go "BAAAAAAAW"! Seriously though, I got this surprisingly quickly. I was more inspired than I thought I'd be.
    Notice the X-Y-Z thing on the end. It's kind of a symbol for "the end", in this case the end of a relationship. The words don't just contain the letters but are homophones of them as well.
  11. Chevalier Crystal Princess

    Jan 8, 2008
    Trapped on an Island
    This last poem I understood quickly. I think it's a tad bare-bones for what you normally write, but in it's own right it's a great poem. Strange is the day when I can understand your poems so easily.

    I myself am blocked in the poem department. It seems that I can't write good poetry in a notebook, but I can in a text file. I find this very bothersome. It's nice to come back and see a nice poem from you every now and then.
  12. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008

    Who should I tell that I tell myself
    To pass me an axe only to fell myself?
    This hellish rebellion...
    I fight well but I'm down to my ultimate splinter
    Where I used to shimmer I now shiver
    Lingering in the hindrance of an inner winter

    All that still tingles is a sliver of vindictiveness
    Justice is a fist wherein any weapon fits
    This is not the time to forgive
    Isn't the place to live in innocence
    Sit still and reminisce
    Pay your respects to the sinner within

    I am enhanced with anger lighter than air
    Awaken from a trance of asking and answering
    Have a half eye closed to glances fair
    Dancing, prancing as if paranoid
    Stallions ridden by unclad chances gallop into a barrage of lances
    My battle

    Comment: Newest. Again, not very deep. I just wanted to play with words and especially phonetics a little which I find entertaining every now and then. The result was this.



    Existence is a perfect solvent
    Within it lies every problem
    And supposedly every solution

    Regardless of the hand that grasps
    Inside the pool of whiteness
    The essence of all pours through

    This entirety, a vault with vines
    Upon approach curls up in shells
    Forms a heart that throbs in Man

    With sore throats they build
    A spiral stairway for a grim tower
    Where ideas can come to live

    Join us in our amalgam
    Of vices and virtues
    And see how worthless perfection is

    But most courageous is the poison
    That kisses its own antidote
    I dare you to drink it all

    It has been seen
    It has been thought
    It has been done

    Comment: But for those of you who prefer deeper, more philosophical pieces I am posting this old one here. I've written this a very long time ago, and even I had forgotten some of its meaning and had to reread it carefully before I understood myself again.
    Good luck figuring this one out. I know it made me think. Of course, you could just read the spoiler below.
    The poem is in fact a nod towards the socratic way of thinking, that the wisest man is he who embraces that he knows nothing. It also blends in the traditional "Cogito ergo sum" idea. Think of the poem as an evolution: from lamenting ignorance, to trying to cure this ignorance, to coming to terms with it.
  13. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008

    You should have seen her
    Her legs were long as a gazelle's
    Taking root in those high heels
    Hypodermics filled with tasty poison

    She swaggers in squares
    Says it looks more gracious
    But on a closer look you'd see
    She isn't really going anywhere

    She dances even with her eyes
    Wishes to emphasize her aquamarines
    But it's really just crystalline glass
    Sewn into her sockets

    She takes her steps twelve at a time
    Tells everyone she'll show them the way
    But she merely unleashes a brief Inferno
    And evanesces in the smoke

    She is a lot of people
    She had a lot of things
    Basically she's just a fallen nymph
    Who learned to dance on high heels
    And has many strings attached
    So she wouldn't fall no more

    Comment: Older. The character in this story is not coincidentally a female.
    The female, created with the natural urge to create and nurture, with the underlying temptation to manipulate. The latter is her demon, symbolised here by the name Calcabrina.



    I know a story of a sordid man
    Who serves as an ideal for all sordid men
    A folktale told by drunken earthquakes
    He tended to gulp down inferior lives
    As if little more than bottled beer

    You don't like it so far?
    It gets a thousand times worse
    This man had fists the size of boulders
    Held them above people's heads
    Dominance of the nonsensical kind

    In the occasional badlands discovered
    By our ever-more galvanised society
    He is the muscle of the lost-and-found
    One man, aggressively trying to be
    Not just another clockwork automaton

    Want to know how his story ends?
    He was too strong and he survived
    While violence in his core remains
    He was welcomed into another time
    And demoted to intelligent thinking

    Comment: Older stuff too. Similarly, there is a good reason why the character here is a male.
    The male, created with the natural urge and ability to withstand and to compete, and the underlying temptation to oppress. That is his demon, symbolised by the name Farfarello.
  14. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Comment: Long-ass poem is long. But hey, it's about the end of the world and shit like that so yeah.


    Nothing ever really changes
    Because nothing ever really begins
    Allow me to introduce myself
    I'm an alien to every day that's yet to come
    Have you ever had to stop and take a breather?
    "Draw close to light and you'll turn blind
    With nowhere else to turn to but your mind
    Is that why they call it bright?"
    It's what a man once wrote in a poem
    He closed the petals in his head and contemplated
    Thought his way into enlightenment
    Our minds are still ours; all is in its rightful place

    The revived blinders slash the morning-black
    And it retreats to lick its wounds until the morrow
    If every victory and defeat were equally set in time
    Then the shockwaves we send would never connect
    And lurk forever trapped in the tideland
    Society will only sleep with both eyes closed
    When violence is cattle, and pain is contracted
    Humans, domesticate what ails you

    You know you stopped being a child
    When the stairs are a way down and not a slope
    Everyone's their own killer with a calling card
    So many personalities lie discarded in the midden
    So many murders, but we only lament those we can't replace
    Man is pragmatic even it cries, even when it rages
    Even when it thinks it's changed

    Notice how I speak of sin and of transgression
    Without naming them as such at all
    Good and evil are spirits and mist to me
    Everyone else shares a psychotic imagination

    Of altruists, those who I call dark saints I ask:
    Is kindness really a purpose, or merely a means?
    Is it not satisfaction that governs your every move?
    I discovered many good deeds as being the smugglers of pride
    Pied pipers of kindness who whistle innocent harm
    As they lull their brothers into forgetting their self-indulgence
    Productivity, or so they believe
    Rationality, or so they think
    Goodwill, or so they claim
    Humanity, which I won't deny

    Evil is he who is also selfish but in a different manner
    He who is too obvious in revealing that he understands it all
    The devil is a slave we keep alive for reasons all our own
    He builds our laws at the crack of our whips
    He listens to us whenever we ask him to scare us shitless
    We need him
    We love him
    Our only enemy is Chaos

    I am one such egotist
    I can travel to where no one has set foot to find what others lost
    I desecrate our heroes and dive into their catacombs
    To tell every skeleton just how wrong they were
    Every messiah who did what they thought was right
    Dead and buried, having squandered their time
    Has anyone ever asked the planet how it wants to live or die?
    Has anyone ever asked himself?
    See if I care if I am pulverized by bombs with smiley faces

    I once met a witch with raven hair and raven dress
    Who wished for her manor to be bleached into white
    Change and Revolution were her names
    She fell for me, I fell behind
    She aimed to please and ended up possessing
    Monogamy's hypocrisy
    She claimed my mouth, forsook my heart
    And inhaled its scent at the first embrace
    Until were were both evenly illuded
    With a chime for change but no alternative
    "I am all he needs, I am all he needs"
    It slithered through her cortex with every lamented funeral
    And thus obsession is still the acid of life
    Nothing has changed
    Why should I believe that it ever will or has to?

    I quit
    These machinations don't entangle me
    The conventions will not salvage me
    I'm the one who underwelt it all and still can't tell you how it felt
    But one who always asks for Change loves nothing
    The establishment enemy; the alteration addict
    Transformation in succession leaves no time to cherish
    Everything is fleeting, chasing its immediate offspring
    Madness over happiness
    Nothing over everything

    I tend to keep my thoughts all in one place
    Because there's only one to choose from
    The cobweb of thoughts is scribbled all over me
    Sleeping snakes intertwine with sensitive tissue
    Perhaps that is why only I understand

    My fuses are spun together with the earth
    I wrap myself in flames of gleeful strangulation
    It is time, time to stop ticking and start exploding
    The child who will never walk these lands won't blame me
    May the Wave Of Hedonism crash upon your ideals
    May the honey of pleasure muffle the future
    I steal life, therefore I shall be and therefore I shall die
    And the Wave will freeze into the shroud that marks the end

    I want to breathe a haze so thick that no one can see each other
    White noise will glue their hearts shut
    Start a fire to find one another and find pyromania instead
    We're not meant to last, I can't help but wonder why we try
    Why we refuse to euthanise ourselves and one another
    While we know it could feel so much better

    Cables protruding from my spine
    Hooked to the ecstasy of six billion pulses
    And yet, I am not feeling it
    Here lies the lonely martyr
    Rotting, melting, boiling in his furnace
    Being singled out is a dangerous feeling

    Nothing ever really changes
    Because nothing ever really begins
    It doesn't matter
    Like nothing ever matters
    This fabled calamity radiates through me
    Whilst I exist in a plane where I do not belong:
    I am not sacred
    You are not my saviors
    Stop worshipping me into detachment

    I am the world
    Hang me back into space

  15. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    Introduction: *blows off dust* Perhaps I should update my poetry thread again. I'm under the impression that there are a lot of poets on KHV nowadays, so maybe we can learn from each other. By which I mean that comments to my poems are greatly appreciated, and will be met with comments on your own work in return. Yeah, that's how I roll.

    You Were The Snow

    Before the brush
    Had licked the painting
    I feared you
    As a hailfall in March
    Several minutes
    And stormwinds later
    I saw the mitts over your claws
    You said that you were the snow
    Hear my teeth

    Comment: I never liked this poem (I just picked it at random). It was written ages ago. It is about trust, and more specifically about not giving it when it's due. In that light it's about cynicism as well. What could be romantic is now somewhat tragic. If there's any charm in this poem, it's that.
  16. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008

    The concerto of years and seasons
    Beats the age dust out of our ears
    Whenever our wisemen beckon it

    There are some that choose not to attend
    Evolution and its majestic parade
    They much rather sleep in cotton coffins

    The priests of yore awaken once more
    But they wake up as sombre portraits
    And mockingly stroll where the march had been

    Those druids bow to none but ancient lords
    Ancestors that died, most ironically
    By going against the invincible centipede

    With their dated measures and scales for worth
    They seek those who may hear their preaching
    And guide them politely to an adorned coffin

    If they'd ever meet a novelty beyond their reach
    They'd close in for a friendly whisper
    And maul it with the other cheek

    You know why they laugh with naked molars?
    Because one man alone would just get bitten
    These saurians have sharp silexes

    So let's crush those with a chilling stone
    Let us gallop over all obsolete golems
    With underneath us, a marble pavement

    Only fossilized remnants remain
    Kept out of umbrage, and hung in a museum
    Among sombre portraits of defeated ancestors

    Progress grants us another process
    And experience introduces wisemen
    Until the next cult surfaces

    Comment: Another old piece of mine. This poem is actually a satire that both mocks and warns for overconservative thoughts. A poem about those that cling to obsolete ideals ("dated measures and scales"). Those who try to stand in the way of progress ("going against the invincible centipede") are portrayed as priests and saurians to emphasize both their charisma and the threat they pose. The poem may sound like gibberish at first, and to some it may be, but I have tried my best to make it not so. Any thoughts on it?
  17. Technic☆Kitty Hmm

    Apr 2, 2010
    Indiana, USA
    I really like this piece. It does sound . . . confusing at first but I started getting it the further I read. Your vocabulary choices and your grammar far exceed my own. This really reminds me about old riddle haiku's. Your works are very interesting and I will continue to read your newer poems. Honestly you don't need any help (at least from me eyes) you are a master poet. Keep up the good work XD
  18. king_mickey rule Destiny Islands Resident

    Nov 18, 2008
    You're a good poet man! You have a very wide vocabulary in your head which is always a good thing. I've only read 'Under The Wheels Of Deceit'. I really liked the flow in that one. I'll be sure to check your thread from time to time. Also thanks for the kind words in my thread. Keep'em going!
  19. Daxa~ #stalker

    Feb 20, 2011
    Near, far, Jafar.
    221 have such a deep,thoughtful way of writing
    I really love the way all the words seem to flow together,and merges into something beautiful
  20. Styx That's me inside your head.

    Sep 16, 2008
    A Deeper Shade Of Shallow

    A rogue am I...
    I sedate the souls of five days as I dabble in the dark of thirst
    I reveal the untold, the unheard, but never the unthought
    As the gold flourishes from cage to gutter to possible dreams

    Enjoyed though it oughtn't be: a perdition dousing its own flames
    I am a vessel cornered into trivialities and questing for rhinestone
    Craving more than an illusion but less than actual meaning
    I submerge only to rise above me

    Though this shines in its own right, I have a truer beacon still
    Pursuing me, not in name nor in form, but in spirit
    Casting breezes from up high, worth a thousand sentiments
    Discreetly guiding me to what I am, to more than this

    Her turtle shell eyes that like uncharted islands lie
    In worried blue, sickly shed in this ship's wake
    A wailing blaze embarks on sailing days
    Traversing waters hued a deeper shade of shallow

    A return, and a vow for the derelict to be derelict over time
    Reflected by her acknowledging this deadlock of needs
    To be where the glaring sky meets the churning oceans
    In the throes of being absolved with a smile

    Comment: This poem is about getting wasted on weekends and how it affects your loved ones.