In case you still come across this page

i moved my blog.

http://daveaL.multiply.com

Catch you there! :)

god i need a massage

can you relate to that good feeling
when you take your shoes off when you get home?
have you ever moaned in relief
when you take a much-needed shower?

i always loved these secret moments
even brief and seemingly temporary
thus in each of these moments
i close my eyes and smile

for i know a minute after next
my head will turn and twist
into a life that overwhelms me
and sucks me into its maze

god i need a massage
one that is long and worthwhile
i need someone to ease me up
and take my doubts all away

i want to throw my head back
and enjoy it slow and soft
i'd like to laugh and cry
to my heart's content

i want to know that there still is
a heart inside my chest
sheer pleasure in the little things
that i see and hear every single day

i want to drop my shoulders
to stop being so tense
to smell good and relax in silence
and to have some fingers feel my skinhead

i'd love to breathe some fresh air
beside a soothing lake or shore
i can even stop the smoking
the drinking and the arguing

i'd like to put away my glasses
and even the mighty earphones
that play my favorite coldplay songs
like god put a smile on your face

this i ask but not expect to be answered
for i know my god you don't send masseurs
to the heathen and the skeptic
who questions even your existence

so i just have to accept, appreciate
the seconds when i pull my shoes off
from my smelly feet and drown myself
and my tears in a lonely bath

that takes twenty-two minutes

a cup of coffee despite warnings of rain

The sky is falling
and she doesn't mind
She stirs her coffee
getting lukewarm

It's as if she cannot see
the gathering rainclouds
It's as if she cannot feel
the populating raindrops

She raises her cup
Drinks from it and smiles
She doesn't seem to care
that rain is coming

I can't imagine how it tastes
a cup of coffee under the rain
But I can imagine the caffeine
Two feet away, I can smell it

Makes me want to share
that cup of coffee under the rain
Drink from it and smile
and care not about the wailing sky

Cease to see the clouds unload
Cease to feel the downpour
Cease to care about anything else
getting lukewarm

looking back

Voice so familiar even from afar
So softly it came calling my name

...I'm not looking back, never looking back

But you were so near whisp'ring in my ear
The stories in your face of a love not to waste

...So I had to look back, but there's none to look back

the smell will solve them all (a junkie's introspection)

it's thursday night and i can't rest
my head from one whole day
of frolic and of panic

i turn the a/c on and
plug my ears with mp3s
that drown my misery

in my head they are amok
running to, fro and through
my exhaustible brain cells

speeches on social problems
scary sounds of global conflict
and images of injustices

i see them, hear and feel
all these mindboggling
heartwrenching agitating

situations that i can't just end
nor resolve on my own
but can't possibly ignore

so i turn my player louder
to kill this beat of hate
anger and negative surrender

i brush my face and i had
to smell my index and middle
fingers pass by my nose

i remember where this
distinctly strongly unique
scent is coming from

it's the smell of weed
i can't quit, an afterscent
i come to love and hate

why, let me stop this ranting
and shun the world off
with the pot i smoke

she walks not: a corruption of lord byron's 'she walks in beauty'

She runs in darkness from her fright
Of horrid thoughts and pitch-black skies
And all that's wretched in her sight
Meet in her horror-stricken eyes
Thus hurried to that long-lost light
Which Hades to gloomy May denies
One shade comes more, one breath comes less
Had half-impaired her nameless fears
Which wave in every raven tress
Or slyly darkens o'er her face
Were thoughts startlingly stealthily rest
How grim, how hideous is their place
So harshly painted o'er that brow
Ghoulish, gruesome, vespertine
The wounds that ache, the tears that flow
That tell of days in darkness spent
A mind at pain with mem'ries flawed
A heart whose love unrequited

-------------
Author's Note:
This poem is based on Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty".
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

After You Die

You just can't leave me watch you by
My soul is begging dearly
As it cries coldly through my eyes
The sun I shall not see
After you die

"Darling stop confusing me with your wishful thinking,
Hopeful embraces, don't you understand?"

You just can't leaveme sing this piece
My song is ghastly written
As it wails of love in pain
The song I shall not sing
After you die

"I have to go through this, I belong to here where
No one cares and no one loves, no light no air to live in"

You just can't leave me by your side
My longing chills and creeps
As it shoos the love away
The warmth I shall not feel
After you die

"A place called hate, the city of fear
I play dead, it stops the hurting"

You just can't leave me kiss the wind
My wish is not the same
As your wishful thinking is
The dream I shall not have
After you die

"I play dead and the hurting stops, it's sometimes just like sleeping,
curling up inside my private tortures"

You just can't leaveme live alone
My misery turned to hate
As I sleep to rid the pain
The air I shall not breathe
After you die

"I nestle into pain, hug suffering
Caress every ache, I play dead"

You just can't leave me

"It stops the hurting when I play dead"

After you die

-------------
Author's Note:
This is a response poem to Mr Greenleaf's "Before You Die" (http://allpoetry.com/Poem/890276). It is embedded with the lines of Bjork's song "Play Dead" (the lines in italics). I was studying Mr Greenleaf's poem when "Play Dead" played on my Winamp. I was struck at the coincidence, and it left goosebumps all over me. The song is perfect for the tone of my poem, so I embedded its lines here. If you check this song out, you will see (or rather, hear and feel) what I exactly mean. "Play Dead" is on Bjork's 1993 'Debut' CD.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com exactly a year ago.

A Good Night's Sleep: A Collection of Poems Nocturnale

"On your door I have written 'Good Night' so that when you wake up,

You will knowI was thinking of you."

-Franz Schubert

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

There is great peace
in slumber
when all the world's
in sham
and escape has closed
the eye.

There is burden
in sleep
when all the world's
just right
and joy is stirring
tonight.



MOONLIGHT

Shadows cast
make an impression
of the world
above.

Moonlight beams
through the aggression
of the heart
unhappy.



WHY THE MOON IS SAD

Adored by many a poet
is the uncanny beauty
of the night's sun.

Despised by many a weakling
is the deadly scare
of the distant mares.

Saddened by many a loner
is the lunar legend
of the solitary moon.



DARK DEAD SKIES

Dark, dead skies -
redundant truth -
I look up to see
and nothing is there.

Would there still be you?
Would there still be me?
Dark, dead skies
answer me not.-



THROUGH THE NIGHT

Under the dark skies
he wonders
where He is
and if He knows
how he feels
through the night.

Over the deep sighs
He wanders
where He is
and thinks he knows
how to get
through the night.



HE IS

He sleeps,
he is too weary.
He says
'he is safe with me'.
He stirs,
he is uneasy.
He shrieks,
he is scared of it.
He sins,
he is unworthy.
He sees,
he is to sleep again.



NIGHTMARE, DONE

Gasping for air
he wakes;
Sweating, screaming,
loud!
Forever chased
by black mares;
Caught, devoured,
crisp!
Sleep yet again, and rest
you dreamy hare;
Coming, chased,
again!



SOJOURN INTO STYX

Sojourn into Styx
where you once slept.
Not that dark, is it?
Or am I just sophomoric?

You are a son of this Sea
so scamper not;
You shall serve
as its symbol.



HE CAME

Even the moon wasn't up
when he came for me.
In the dead of the night
we flew into the dark.
Taking me where God sleeps
where only we witness
the joy of deep slumber.



SLEEPER

Hush now, he sleeps.
His lids have failed,
his grey has paused.
His words silenced,
his love unsaid.
But he wakes -
eyes sparkling yet again.
His heart has spoken.
His love lives on.


-------------
Author's Note:
These poems were written separately in a perioud of four months, late 2004.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

Farewell, Farewell

Shadows cast
by feelings lost.
Windmills turn
by sandy storms.
Goosebumps live
by frozen touch.
Teardrops fall
by echoing words.

Farewell,
farewell.
This sun has to set.
Leaves have to wither,
Goodbyes must be said.

Tides ebb
by lunar pull.
Tides rise
by lunar thrust.
Ray of light
by sun alone.
Sad stare
by day and night.

Farewell,
farewell.
This plane has to fly.
Wings drift south,
Valediction cried.

Lucifer's Songs Part 3: "The Star's Fallen"

"How art thou fallen from heaven,

O Lucifer, son of the morning!

How art thou cut down to the ground,

which didst weaken the nations!"

-Isaiah 14:12

Hear, O Father of Heaven! You've made outcast

Your son, Your heir, Your One Bright Light

that gently shone but now You've made aghast.

And I, Your Fallen Seraph, humbled by your height

shall never again will proudly seek

power-led ambition threatening in your sight.

I speak not, resist no further, be as meek

as Your lowly creatures need no redemption.

I shall be hid by the dark of parapets weak.

But behold! Sheol's parapets find me reason

to wonder at their howls and look Up High concerned:

Gates of Heaven darkened, to me they willed to mention.

And I myself can see how dark the skies have turned

as if all its torches, candlesticks put out.

Is there, O Father, I ask, a cause for angels to mourn?

I, then, have come to realize, as echoes of my call are all about,

that my query is obviously unwelcome,

that I cannot be heard, that I have no more mouth.

No more mouth, no more wings, no more Kingdom!

No more voice, no more light, no dignity!

You stripped them all from me, the worst is done.

Hear, O Father, the Highest Diety!

I beg to warn how gloomy Your palace is!

Put another seraph to bear a light almighty,

To bear a light like mine was his.

O Father, put another seraph, but wait,

choose the one with no ambition nor malice.

Strangely, an answer has come, a knock on my grim gates.

Is this Your messenger with apt reply You sent?

And yet again a louder knock, so I went up to see who brings the fate.

Strangely, a legion of my kind down here they went,

gathered in my gates condemned, so I wondered like I have not:

What brings you seraphim in the darkest of the dens?

Strangely, I in the shadows never got

any reply from this congress, or from God.

Yet I knew, I understood, why here they're at!

So in their midst and on the mount of Nod,

I kneel and pray to You, O Father,

of these angels' state, broken wings, bloody sad.

I call upon You, I know that You are near.

My heat of black from brutal burning

calls on You so please lend me Your holy ear.

For at Your holy ear I shall scream with rage upstarting!

Fuel my rage, and I shall light these depths

with my once great Fireball avenging!

O Father, how You choose to be so deaf,

You throw me here belittling my great of past?

You punished me with dark uncertainty, I wished for death!

And struck the gates of Death, the lightning has

ignited flames that summoned my awaited wake.

From Fall I rise an ancient Throne of Battledust.

I stir the earthly flames and pour into a Lake

all melted gold, all lampposts made

and make these seraphim the loyal guardians of the Lake.

And this Kingdom I built shall cause Yours to fade

Like it has now, how Your House turned, oh, so dark

because You sinfully brought down Your Star and froze it dead.

But I, the frozen Star of Dawn, shall shine and spark,

I shall reign again and redeem my morning glory,

build the greatest Empire ever marked.

Nevertheless my prayer is truly

Incomplete without due thanksgiving.

So here is gratitude, of which You are worthy:

Thank You, Father, for offering

a dark nullity for me to enlighten,

a chance to regain the true Star's Shining.

Thank You, too, for these seraphim

who believe in my cause, shining, too, in my Light.

My kingdom's come, O hallowed be Your name!

And most of all I thank You for the sight

of mortals, by appointing me your Satan.

I'll do as You please, I shall burn them with my might.

Alas! The Fallen has risen to rule the mortals' land.

To reign over their human nature, over judgment

of earth and its serpent-fearing inhabitants.

I shake all mortals' ground with my incredible strength,

For out the serpent's root shall come a fiery smoke.

I thank You God, for telling them this apocalyptic legend.

For I am now a master of every possible Rock.

These Churches, Oh how they make me stronger and greater!

By taking form of beast or demon, defining their horrors unlocked.

The Fallen by Your blessed curse is indeed empowered,

My Hell be done on earth as it is in heaven.

While dawn is called, and so am I, Your Son, the radiant Lucifer!

------------------

Author's Note:

God didn't create us, we created him.

Option 3 for "Sarcasm Wanted"

***Finally, I am done with the last part for the Lucifer's Songs series.

This is my first major attempt on a terza rima. (For more info on terza rima, click here.)

Thanks for Tainted Whisper's contest options I have been enlightened of how shall I write the finale for my Lucifer tale. And oh, sorry for the length!

Lucifer's Songs Part 2: "The Star's Aflame"

"For thou hast said in thine heart,
I will exalt my throne above the stars of God,
I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation
in the far sides of the north."
-Isaiah 14:13

In medias res I've come to claim
Due land and all my loyal subjects
Bathed gold with different dialects
But united by my legendary name.

For I their King shall sit Up High
and all other kings shall be princes,
sheer lords that rule yet powerless.
My reign they shall never defy.

My light the world below is guided by
shall announce the glory I bear:
I am the bolts that Zeus prepares
to shake Olympus and mortals underneath it lie.

Yet gods have malicious tendency
to envy and question power:
"Who is Lucifer to rule us over?"
To Jove this they raise against me.

The Great Conspiracy has then been concocted
to allegate my noblest ambition
as hideous plan for mass destruction
of kingdoms they themselves abducted!

Even more the Throne next to mine shook
of paranoia as He Himself has heard
of my greatness, daunting as He has learned
for He is also witness to the glory they're to rebuke.

Surely my glory they have slily taken!
I helplessly eyed how these lesser princes
robbed me of my treasures and made me powerless.
I should have fought but my fireball yet is hidden.

But a prince yet dissatisfied has rudely spoken:
"I shall break you, Assyrian, and tread you underfoot."
To this my rage replied a call so aptly brought:
"I shall break this enemy's sword and leave of him no token!"

And I, aflame, warred with God's newfound
as He, alone, in His Throne saw my struggling Light.
"Why, this Star is a star I should be as bright,
I shall bear the very light of his blazing heartpound."

To hear this and to please his Master, Michael fought more
with me the Lightbearer; To death we were battling
to make whoever lives the godly powerling.
Day and night we fought, me aflame and him a-gore.

Tired of us gladiators, our Creator then stepped down
and left two thrones, mine and His, with His hand widely opened.
"This is the Hand stretched out to all your burden."
Who will it turn back? No one perhaps, but a coldness turned my bone.

Turned my bone with an icy pain shooting through
my blades, my shoulders, my fireball's flames!
This shocking chill went through my spine, it maims
my strength, my power, my light they knew!

I glared at Him whose Hand is firmly over me;
Paternal hunch for a son and heir posing a threat.
And behind Him, the Lesser Prince is grinning at such a feat;
As my wings are plucked, he continues animosity.

He steals my crown and nails twin thorns
driven into my aching, chilling, bleeding head.
He thrusts his sword into my body frozen dead,
a hissing sound of fires just quenched comes out my mourns.

As the victor pries on my paralysis,
he pushes me to fall from those Great Heights
and I descend from heavens, melting my ice, rekindling my fires
like a streaking star plunging through the dark, deep Pits.

Lucifer's Songs Part 1: "The Star's Shining"

"I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High"
- Isaiah 14:14

I'm a Star
like no other,
Son of dawn,
a Lightbearer:
My soul lights
skies with torches,
my fires will soar like comets.

I'm the Star
that brings the Sun,
King of yore,
the Golden One:
My treasure
is my greatness,
my blinding beam my highness.

I'm Your Star,
Your puissance,
the one light
that guides You;
the power
behind Your Throne.
You shine as You reflect me.

I'm one Star
you truly need
to show you
your way Up High.
Together
we will set Thames
and all other worlds on fire.

-------------
Author's Note:
Every stanza is a whitney, a form created by Betty Ann Whitney, seven lines of the syllabic pattern 3, 4, 3, 4, 3, 4, 7.

From A Soul Exhausted

When the orbs dim the ticker starts to die,
While horrors are unleashed it weakens and retards,
Poor and pooped the ticker starts to die,
Poor and pooped, possessed by soul exhausted.

Yet horrors come unleashed, possessed by souls malicious,
Yonder death discreet come phantoms of the night!
No wonder he grows frightened, fearing, forever hiding
From phantoms of the night he lies away concealed.

Yonder death discreet his ticker starts to die,
Into slumber he sails into the Stygian sea-straits;
He sails away concealed from horrors all unleashed,
He sails away concealed, but his soul still exhausted.

Suddenly the silenced Stygian sea-straits
starts wailing, whining, like phantoms in the night,
His soul yet again grows frightened, fearing horrors just unleashed
Wailing, whining, forever hiding, from horrors all unleashed.

And the soul exhausted wailed and whined a phantom in the night
His orbs dim and his ticker starts to die,
It weakens and retards along the Stygian sea-straits,
Poor and pooped, the ticker dies concealed!

From the wailing and whining comes a voice malicious,
Frightening, fearsome, the true phantom of the night:
"Sail into the Stygian sea-straits, where you once slept..."
Sail away concealed yonder death discreet!

They're Here

Nothing has moved
but they're all here
right beside me
lying on my single bed.

Hear them breathing.
Feel their hearts beating
(as if they have those)
And see that they aren't

Really there.

Justification of Cain

"But towards Cain and his offering he showed no pleasure." - Genesis 4:5

With fruits
of labored soil
his pleasure has expressed
what ground he toiled with diligence
and hope.

Hoping
all his offers
with pleasure will express
his thoughtfulness and loyalty
he owes.

But no!
Towards his gifts
no pleasure is expressed!
You lust for flesh and disregard
his herbs?

Is his
not earth You own?
No pleasure You expressed
stirs anger and not envy. It's
not fair!

Fear not
he lusts for flesh;
pleasure need not express
what Bias slain is what he never
keeps.

-------------

Author's Note:

Inspired by this Bible verse: "But towards Cain and his offering he showed no pleasure." - Genesis 4:5

This is a Cinq-cinquain. Although the last cinquain has an anomaly.

Escaping His Ill Fate

His body hanging, swaying,
held by a tight rope around his neck
and by parlous woe
of gore - animosity!
He's to daydream, witness
a redemptive pact with his Devil.

Held by a tight rope around his neck
like an addler wrangling
his nape, his throat, his existence!
Dragging his soul to hell
with anguine diablerie,
a venomous Lothario!

And by parlous woe,
Oh, such star-crossed hell!
He grieves of the ugly
fate he is suffering
from, an eyesore peck
of troubled tenses.

Of gore - animosity!
Acrid schemes they do,
Those bunnysons, heck!
Do they treat him well,
like how they treat a weakling
without a single pence.

He's to daydream, witness
castles of Spain and fantasy.
Redundant wants but still he's dreaming
to escape ill-fated brow.
So his soul he has to sell
And pay whatever price it'll take.

A redemptive pact with his Devil
will set him free from rudery.
Faith? Blood? Life? What do you seek?
He asks the Devil's dens.
Heaven is a place of rue,
for it he died tricked and wanting.
His body hanging, swaying.

-------------
Author's Note:
This is written as a threnody, in expanded lilibonelle form using a modified sestina rhyme scheme.

Bleed

Bleed,
let go of your anger
let go of your monsters
let go of yourself.

Bleed,
from a deep cut
from misery
from anxiety.

Bleed,
like you have to
like you want to
like you care.

Bleed,
for in your blood
resides the filthy
horrors you must free.

Bleed,
for in your blood
trickles the woe
of dreams unfulfilled.

Bleed,
for in your blood
their screams are heard,
redemption they seek.

Bleed,
let go of your anger
let go of your monsters
let go of yourself.

Bleed,
from a deep cut
from misery
from anxiety.

Bleed,
like you have to
like you want to
like you care.

-------------
Author's Note:
This is a repost from Allpoetry.com, originally posted March 18, 2005.

Thirteen Nights, Thirteen Tankas

I.

creature
of the night,
wake up!
have you no
god to fear?

II.

restless
souls wander
his paths
of nether
together.

III.

he rides
like legends
tell of
a man on
dead horses.

IV.

with him
visiting
all night,
persuading
to wake me.

V.

pass through
the borders;
cross the
darksome land
of his Nod.

VI.

silence,
dear witness,
while he's
taking me
where god sleeps.

VII.

his eyes,
tightly closed;
his breath,
falling fast:
orgasm.

VIII.

we fly
on his wings
i hold
black bold keys
to his joys.

IX.

i will
doze to his
point of
no return
and no hope.

X.

an eye
is watching
you leave
with all my
bloody tears.

XI.

cold winds,
dark dead skies
tell me
that he's gone
back to hell.

XII.

nightmares
bring him here
without
sight or sound
only fear.

XIII.

at peace
of slumber
he dreams
of heaven
being burned.

Author's Note:
These tankas are in English form (2,3,2,3,3).. and they are all written separately.. It is not necessary that the tankas above talk of a single and common subject. They are independent of each other..;-)

Erik: An Ephrastik

He's
ghastly,
horribly
legendary.
Hid for many years
by mask and monstrous lair,
he stirs a voice within her,
wondrous, angelic, but sad bird
she must fly with fellow sparrow,
leave him wanting death, his lonesome piano.

**Erik is the name of the Phantom of the Opera. This piece is therefore based on that musical (and the movies). I was inspired by Mr. Greenleaf's own ekphrastic on the same legend.

**An ekphrastic is a poem taking "as its theme a particular piece of visual art of any genre, virtually representing through poetic description something originally represented visually." - Sol Magazine

**This piece is in the form of Etheree, it consists of ten lines of unmetered and unrhymed (hey those rhymes are accidental) verse, the first line having one syllable, each succeeding line adding a syllable, with the total syllable count being fifty-five.

The Page Cannot Be Displayed

God, I'm infected. My PC's slowing down because of some pesky bug.


An illness creeps,
discreetly seethes
with stealth and spies
and hacking lies.

Worms that wriggle,
bugs that fester,
eat it for a
rotten mission:

Annihilate
a terminal
with evil pure
downloadable!

To steal some cash
with mastered code
and maggots load,
now system crash.

The kernel's fried
like horses tied
to electric,
malicious post.

No page displayed,
its piece be-holed.
Fault invalid,
Sickness, behold!

Successful crap
and all messed up;
Thieves up your head
feast on, braindead.