Various An Uttering: Poems

Some random poems I wrote for other stories and whatnot. Various An Uttering: Poems

Cosmosis
Hath thou seen the stars? thy feet shall never go there. Only in thy minds hath we go there, wishing for the chance to wander on the other worlds.

See Thy End So Swiftly
Khie Xie Stigma, the mark of the terror, that primordial yet young beast,

The threatening of Satan, coming from the fiery red east;

Dost thou see? the stars of spirit, and of solidity falling from Heaven high?

Giving to the minds of men so wicked, that they wish to die;

Water once pure, now swiftly turned to blood, and masses deceased where they stood,

A Draco's rule of tyranny, to give unto fire for eternity;

Quaking leading to darkness, nether entities arising from the Abzu,

Death manifesting, the seed of man corrupted by those who hath been loosed;

Are ye a sinner? for the colored steeds gallop near,

Does thou deny the wrath upon thee,

For thy soul hath reached it's greatest fear.

Bittersweet
I live in a bittersweet day, in a bittersweet time

Everything goes wrong, but it always turns right;

Few friends I have near, the enemies I don't fear. Everything goes black here, but it always turns crystal clear;

Don't you think me sad, the world I have isn't forever bad, even though the darkness eats it away;

Many roads I wander, places I stop to ponder. The world changes from place to place, but the feelings stays the same;

I live near to death, though death is far from my the life. I strive, and I fight, to escape the shadow, to go find light;

Oh, I live in conflict, the sweet for a moment, the bitter for an hour, and the wholesome swallows the sour;

I travel to a good life I can live, but I exist in the negative, and the road stretches infinite, I wonder how much longer to go, but I know, I'll make it.

Philosophically So...
Oh melancholic joy, living in a lush jungle of a world, wild and untamed, wishing to feel some disappointment, wish for the better;

But to simply remember as well, with happy heart beating;

Seeing the dying world and with it the emotion;

Bitterness of the soul in the prospect of witnessing the land degrade;

And yet, smile, know that it is fine with you;

For time will come of much happiness;

And to know that one is better than the people who hate the breath;

Yes, for one will hate the world, hate the now, despise the current descent;

But love the good that comes from it;

Though only in small packages, fragments of a world beyond;

A place where sorrow has not ground to stand;

Indeed, it falls, forever gone, so be in rejoice that it shall be yours in time!;

It can be foolish to be eccentric;

Where has it been proven that a Stoic is at true peace of mind? did not Justin, that righteous martyr struggle with it so, as the same with him concerning the conceptions of Plato?;

Zeno said that it is the way;

Accept the fates, be unemotional to the cosmos;

No, it can not be;

Was man made to be silent? was man made to be unfeeling?;

The human must feel the regret, and the pain, and the spite;

Because repose and jubilation can follow these in greatness;

You must love to laugh and have dissatisfaction;

Be satisfied, but in mourning so slightly;

These mixing of the emotions bring solace, not Gnosis, not revelation, but satisfaction that all is not perfect nor all wrong, so be as Solomon with his Ecclesiastes;

And with words ended, one must seek to enable them.

In The Early Mourning/Down In Glorious Flames
In The Early Mourning

I hear the Giants shouting:

Come, my mighty brethren, let us go and make war on this defiant one. For we are many, indeed, we are in great numbers. Follow me into the conflict to slay this Son Of Seth, and drink his life, in rejoicing as if we were to drink the wine. Let us smite this rebel in the name of thy lord of darkness!;

Oh, Lord, I hear their growling, the beating of drums made from my own people's skin

I hear the shouting of wickedness, and the guttural screeching of sin;

I see the torches of red fire, burning it's fuel to put fright into my banging heart

I see the weapons raised in hatred, stained in my own family's blood, as I raise my voice to tell them to start;

I speak to them with teeth gritted, and tongue ready to speak many a cursing to the accursed;

I speak to them the truths, but they blind their eyes to fate, as I feel their pointless anger burst;

I shout:

Good morning, O filth of the Earth! I see thou have come to be smashed under my heal, and be scrapped off with this sword. Have thou come for revenge for those I have slain? Are ye ready for payback for the fools I have I smitten? Are thee preparing to get even for the serpents I crushed? Indeed, but I am not. This is not revenge, for that is for my God. Come kill me, ye Bastards, O Sons Of Darkness!;

Yes, here they come, those massive Demons bound in wicked flesh;

I prepare myself to make the air a stench, and kill off the fresh;

They chant through their rotting double-rows of teeth, that they wish to drink my blood from my wounds and tears;

But I have a message to them, good luck, sons of Satan, because I shall drink theirs!;

Oh, they come even closer, clubs and swords made of steel as hard as diamond, such weapons to be feared;

But I raise my own, etched with the name of my Creator, as I count out how many heads that need to be sheered;

Hell - it's right in front of me;

Death - it's all I am able to see;

May the One who made my soul give me time to kill;

Carnage - it's the only outcome;

Rage - it's the savageness to repay;

It's time to start bashing heads and make their lives cease at my will;

The first one makes his move, a half-human of massive girth;

I vow to make these beasts regret their own birth;

My sword is in my hand, my shield against my breast;

Blood is flowing faster, and my heart is slamming through my chest;

I scream terribly, rushing straight ahead

I leap in momentum to cut off his tumorous head;

More are coming, the terror stunning,

I slice into the Giant's stomach, and see the entrails spill out;

One man versus a thousand beast horde their fathers watch from afar, I ask not for forgiveness for each killing blow and scar;

I stab my sword into one's face, mangle already wretched features and I dash to kill another, to find another slaying route;

Save me my God, for all Hell is breaking loose,

I have killed over a dozen, and there will never, EVER be a truce.

Down In Glorious Flames

Blood is on the ground - my hands are uncontrollably shaking;

You can take my flesh, but my soul will protest!;

The onslaught still hating - the Gibboriym's final assault no longer waiting;

My hands drenched in the life now corrupt;

I know I can't flee my fate - but its time to make my great escape;

Meet me in the caverns you keepers of adultery;

Fleeing, I feel the thundering of their feet on the earth, and I know my time draws near

I may not be able to survive, but I will take most of them with me;

Running like Hell, away from the bodies and carnage, I escape to the mountains of refuge;

My feet carry me to a place of safety, as the army wades past their brethren's own corpses and refuse;

At the cave, I run deeper, ready for my last stand and feel the roaring at my back as I flee;

I come to the dead end, 100 feet in the mountain, and I grab a torch waiting for me;

I will not take my life, but I will not let them take off my head;

And know I can go out without regretting anything, as I prepare to be one of the dead;

The Giants charge in, thinking they've doomed me, as their feet are stained with the tar and the pitch that covers the ground;

I release a warrior's scream, and hear it echo, as I throw the flaming stick down;

The place goes ablaze, while screams rise higher, and I see their bodies writhe;

I feel my skin burn, though it hardly affects me, and smile knowing I will soon meet my God;

The tongues rise higher, and the hybrids screams burst through the fire, as I go down in glorious flames!

Dare Not To Seek Deeper
Deception in the guise of hopeful truth,

The truth of itself merely a lie uncouth;

In search of knowledge only to find horrors undying,

Madness will grip thee, thy mind frying;

Other places of darkness, seen by ancients of past time,

Witnessed by the wicked or foolish, given over to crime;

Seek not for something different, as if it 'tis a revelation,

The deception of the Tempter hath destroyed many a nation;

Thy mind is fragile, so stay where solidity of knowledge is found,

Dare not to venture where the Old Ones are bound.

A Tale Of Sorrow
Summer heat, the morning Sun,

Shining down on a lonely one...

Bleeding, dying, letting spirit go,

Done slaying that beastly foe...

Ten remained, though none survived,

The time of reaping of souls had arrived...

Dragons, Basilisks, Serpents of old,

Come to devour those so bold...

The time had come, foretold by none,

No where to hide, no where to run...

The desert quiet, the wind now died,

The judgment of terror left no one alive…

Dream-living

Through the darkened subconscious, to the opening of the eyes;

Dead to the world outside, but breathing and alive;

Indeed it became so:

Ancestor's lives playing for the absent mind, memories of the own and long left behind

With assuring truth it became not:

Breaking from the null in the head, entering into time again;

All hopes of future breath, now slowly manifest, for it is the will that will win.

Dark Abyssal Regions Of Void
Far down into the ocean, far beneath the sea,

Where pressure crushes those beings, foreign to the mirth of the deep;

Life is surely sparse here, but there are strange ones who do dwell,

If they were brought unto the surface, they would simply turn to dying gel;

Beasts of size horrifying, form so unorthodox in design,

They eat the waste of the dead, in great hordes they will dine;

Ancient canyons and unfathomable sea plains

Light doth not enter here

Great whales do war with the Krakens of old

in the mystery of our sphere;

On the beach of a another sea

a salt brine lake exists,

Only the eel dareth to dive into it

few shalt survive the toxicity of the mist;

Barren blackness of death and gloom, welcome to the dark abyssal regions of void

Oh Earth Of The Waters
Oh, Earth, home of the multitudes; of masses sinful and few pure, how old are thee? How many are your sorrowful years? And how near is thine end? Will it be swift like a body of the heavens, of which yea are truly? Or will flames burn, or will ice kiss thee with here frigid lips, while time slows to a bitter crawl? Will Thu end be of carnal man? Or of our own Creator's fist, so tightly clenched. Thu beginnings were unknown, lost in time's travel. For who dwellwd on th we? Who did so before thy current rulers? The past in murky shadowing, and the cosmos in which thou cycle, witnessed what man's eyes could never. But what of thy end? Who will witness your passing, or will you go with the waters of space, those which thee dwelleth in?

The Search For Meaning
On the planet there are so many, all of their own knowing. But who is the wisest on this rock, on this island of so many philosophers? In truth or self-proclamation alike.

For he who says he has found knowledge within himslef, thinking he has completed the search for wisdom say, "I have found my inner-self, my spark of something greater!" But does this not lead into selfishness?

He who says he found knowledge in the stars above, and in the Earth below, says, "I have found my origin, and have found the place I have come from, and see, it is insignificant!" But is this not what leads one to think they merely are nothing?

Look again, at the one who says he cares no where he came from, for he laughs and says, "Ha! I do not care of where or what I emerged from, or for what purpose, or for that matter, where my fate lies." But does this not show itself to be ignorance?

Too, see now he who knowledge comes from many divine hands, it is he who says, "I worship the mighty powers above, for they are wise, and if I do not show fear of them, they will strike me down!" But is this not foolish? For why should a man worship something that is unjust, and wishing to do harm?"

Look on the world, because it is has few who will give truth. But there is a truth, held by man and woman who posses truth that is as the sweet taste of honey. For if he is apart of something greater, should he not focus on that which he sprung forth? If he sees wisdom in the world and stars, should he not see his origins as great? Henceforth, if he was crafted by something, should not he worship it? And if it cares for him, should he not love it? See now that knowledge is found in the man who sees something greater that he is from, and apart of which. And seeing that truth separate in the world, and caring of that Power that made you.