All My Poems Part 5 - Jack O Lantern, The Last Fury, Light Your Flame and More

Written by Teresita Blanco (The Artsy Sister)

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Jack O Lantern

Jack O Lantern,

Please maintain

Thy face stern.

 

Hide my heartache,

Let the flame,

Keep her face.

 

Carve my face,

I shall smile

As you age.

Carve my face,

With your age,

Your rage.

 

Jack O Lantern ,

They are haunting,

They are laughing.

Let me carve,

My true face.

 

The Last Fury

The sands grow slow

As the last grain falls,

My broken wings

Are but barren bones.

 

These tears, these fears

 

The heart, forsaken,

Beats burning fire.

The things, forsaken,

Now awakens my ire.

 

I can never forgive

The seventh seal,

Making me yield,

Making me squeal.

 

The sinful laughter

Grows much harder,

The furies never

Retired, flying higher. 

 

The cross now lifted,

Has made me gifted. 

Light Your Flame

The same cold eyes

Makes me shiver.

I cannot stand

Your growing disdain.

My growing fear,

Has bound me.

 

The distance hides

Your crimson eyes,

They never warm,

They only burn.

 

Can I light your flame?

Can I end your game?

 

Growing Hollow

My eyes grow hollow,

With this sorrow,

Yesterday’s horror,

Is today’s dishonor.

 

Pops the Clockmaker

In the mansion above

Lives a watch maker,

In  his humble abode,

Lives the clockmaker.

 

With his golden years,

He brings you fear.

 

He is Pops’ the Clockmaker.

 

Gazing down ,at the gathering crowd,

They scream and shout,

“There Lives Pops’ the watchmaker”  

 

He is Pops’ the Clockmaker.

 

Pops the one true maker,

Bring him down,

From his tower,

From his tower.

For he is the clockmaker.

 

Pops the Clockmaker

<Tick, Thick, tics>

 

The surging years,

Are screaming tears,

The grotesque seer

Screams, “He’s here.”

 

<Think, slick, hicks>

 

He is pops thee Clockmaker

Know by all as the watchmaker.

 

<Tics, hicks, pits >

 

Cleaning gears,

Making them cheer.

 

<Ticks… tick >

 

He will grind your gears,

He will bring you fear.

 

<Tic… ick>

 

He is Pops the clockmaker!

 

<Tick, tics, Thick>

 

The empty pit grumbles,

The trembling hand struggles,

The hansom seer,

Hears, “Quiet, you queer!”

 

<chick, lips, licks>

 

He is pops, the biggest faker.

And the worst Dis’ maker

He is thee clockmaker.

 

<Chicks, fits, click>

 

He’s the undertaker,

He’s the worst test taker.

 

He is… the on true maker

“The watchmaker,

The undertaker,

But to you… he is the clockmaker!!!

 

<Thick, tic, tics>

 

Shaming Furies

The sun turns gray.

Oh, the foolish day,

Brings calamities

From his stupidities.

 

Bow, bow so low

To feel its flow.

The salty smell

Permeates this well.

 

Cephion pierces the sky.

These heavenly tears

Brings, so much fear.  

 

Shame is our song,

Hear it sound.

Oh! See her hounds.

 

Silver Moon

The silver moon

Rises at doom,

Whispering our doom…

 

I wait for a tomorrow,

Without sorrow.

Must I forsaken,

What you have taken?

 

Death

The sun turns green

As we all scream.

Beauty and death behold,

Horrors left untold.

 

See the nightingales’ pain

As the King cries “again”!

 

The sun burns

The fragile urn,

Making the shell

Brimstone’s hell.

 

The scarlet eyes

Retain her lies.

Laugh again!

Cry with pain!

 

The bells are screaming,

The tide is turning.

Watch the blade fall

Beyond the seventh hall.

The pendulum has swung

Its final painful hum.

 

Morning (Night’s Shadow)

The moon waltzes

Above the starry planes.

The sun grows restless;

It burns the sky

Carving my name.

 

Swallow the moon,

Bring forth her doom.

Erase night’s shadow

For she makes me hollow.

 

Bring forth the coming day.

Light forth my path, my way.

 

Old

These chains pierce

The ironing flesh.

Her eyes are fierce

Beneath his mesh.

 

The sun grows cold,

His eyes grow old.

Their once burning fire

Now taints them with ire.

 

Things Ill gotten

I cannot find tomorrow,

This gripping sorrow

Brings me horror.

 

As the sand falls,

The sun burns these halls.

And from its ashes

Still stands tall

The last matches.

This piercing sorrow

Taints my honor,

Breaks my honor…

I cannot remember

My past ember.

 

These things ill gotten

Now lie forgotten.

 

Hear their cries

And hissing serpents.

This poor servant

Stabs you last.

 

No Consolation

The trembling hand falls,

Never to hold,

Never to hold…

The water grows cold.

This terrible isolation

Knows no consolation.

 

The Dragon and the Virgin

The Virgin shrieks

Beneath his grip.

His talons clench

As her blood drips.

 

The fiery furnace

Burns all assurance.

The Knight has fled,

All hope forgotten.

 

The burning ember

Ignites his temper.

 

Hear the mothers’ lamentations

Beyond the halls of salvation.  

 

Resigned

Tired and resigned

I now reside

Beneath this plaque,

 

Bearing my name,

Bearing my pain.

 

The woe ill gotten,

But not forgotten.

 

The marks in my chest

Bears the sword

That stabbed me last.

 

Incomplete

The heart forged a new torch.

With its heat, I might defeat…

 

Hissing Tempest

I cannot bear

Your foolish stare,

Those crimson eyes

Right now hides…

 

The hissing serpent,

The coming tempest.

 

Things grow so cold,

As we grow old,

The old torch

Lies forgotten, rotten.

 

Beneath this soil,

That we now toil.

 

Hear it uncoil,

The hissing serpent,

The coming tempest.

 

These empty streets,

Hides my defeat.

 

I cannot rise,

My limbs, my eyes

Become stone,

Revealing the bone.

 

I still hear the hissing tempest.

 

Cope with Hope

Can we cope

With this hope,

Ill placed within

This faulty hymn.

 

Things (laid) forgotten,

Now (have) hardened.

 

Can we hope?

Can we cope?

Is this fate?

Is this hate?

 

My hands now tremble

Beneath this emblem.

It marks my grave.

It stains my name.

 

With this hope

I cannot cope.

 

Martyr

I cannot bear

This cross anymore!

My body, worn and tarred.

Flinches beneath his whip.

 

Woe stricken and fallen

Beneath my pollen.

 

No longer a saint,

Today I die

My final death.

 

His Name is Death

Despotic, Neurotic,

He brings us all, heartache.

Forget him, bend him,

We must all

Crush him.

 

Take the sword

And shield,

Discard it.

 

Raise the guns

And all our heartache.

 

Bring it forth,

Offer it, it’s a perfect

Sacrifice…

To make us right,

To make us ripe.

 

Crazy, despotic, neurotic,

He brings his goons,

He brings us doom.

 

Crush him, discard him!

We must raise

The song of war.

 

See the rivers

Burning crimson!

For he wears  

The stench of death

Beneath his name.

 

I am too sad to Weep

Sometimes my eyes

Are so filled with sorrow

That I cannot weep.

At night their phantoms

Haunt my sleep.

 

If I could,

I would discard

This shell.

 

This suffering

I cannot tame.

 

Runaway Muse

Escape, sweet Muse,

Leave behind

My abuse.

 

Take from me

All your inspiration,

Its wasted, wasted.

 

Is best for you to flee,

Oh! Muse, since I lost

My will to speak.

Seek fertile grounds

Beyond this desert.

 

Escape, from me, Muse

Let us end, this ruse.

 

Obsession

His trails fade

The closer I get

To his shade.

 

Soon our shadows

Will become one.

This strange fascination

Knows no consolation.

 

My obsession grows stronger

As his eyes grow colder.

This disdain I cannot take,

Nor live with this mistake.

 

“Forfeit, let him go”

No!

 

Sins Unforgiving

Sometimes I forget

How to breathe,

Sometimes I forget

My own name.

 

It grows harder

And harder today

To make some

Miserable gain.

 

As our pockets dry

And the bread hardens.

I see them drain,

The last drop

From our veins.

 

Their sins cannot

Be forgiven by

The few crumbs

They throw in

Our empty plates.

 

  Insomnia

I cannot bear this sorrow,

My nights are filled with horror

Death is calling “bliss”.

I hear the serpent hiss.

This morbid fantasy

Brings me agony.

I cannot find true repose.

I must yield to his force.

 

Three Sheets

Just three sheets remain.

My pockets are drained.

The final line has been crossed.

These ashy faces smile anew.

These pale faces smile their grayish ember.

The eyes are opaque,

The neck slender.

Only three sheets remain.

Why can’t it be four!   

 

Shadowy Death

Life is but a shadow of death,

We always seek out true rest.

The shadow comforts us,

The Light blinds us.

 

20 yrs

My thirst knows no oasis

My weary limbs

Cannot find an open grave.

 

After so much struggle

I am greeted with sorrow.

I tremble at the sight

Of my own shadow.

 

At the end, all I find,

Just empty eyes.

Twenty years

Filled with tears,

Twenty years.

Filled with fears.

 

Move Forth

Did you want

To hear me

Speak again?

 

This heartache

Reminds me

Of your last stab.

 

It still bleeds.

The wound never

Seems to heal.

 

My heart no longer feels.

These trembling limbs

Drives me forth.

 

I cannot stop.

I cannot dream.

Ill repaid was

My trust in thee.

 

Cremation

Thinking about

The coming furnace,

My hands tremble,

These legs cannot hold me, carry me.

 

My Back is bent.

My eyes sunken.

 

This is my last song.

This tremulous voice

Will sound no more, no more.

 

Drowning Fate

The sinful tomorrow

Fills me with horror.

I cannot escape

This binding fate.

 

Currents recurrent,

The same waters

Grow colder, older.

 

I tried to reach the shore,

The place I was before.

I lost my hold,

Down I go, go.

 

End this lethargy

This lethargy

Brings me only agony.

 

I cannot rise,

This sinful world is no surprise.

 

My gaze is dimmed

By this red fog,

I cannot see

Beyond this furnace.

My endurance

Has all but left me,

Only with my failing breath.

 

I am tired of hiding.

I am tired of being.

 

Let the fire fill me with ire.

Let it harden this corpse with desire. 

 

This lethargy,

Knows no fitting end.

Now it’s my turn to repent.

For the life I led.

 

It eludes me,

It escapes me.

I cannot see

Past this furnace.

 

Hear it burning,

Feel it turning.

 

Let this fire fill me with ire.

Let it harden this corpse with desire. 

Let it burn my agony.

Destroy this lethargy!