Latest Posts by leftinblasphemy - Page 4

“Do you think you can forgive?” my therapist asks me. I shrug. “I don’t see the point,” I say. 

-my poem

“I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?”

— Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

The winter sun in tow behind you,

teeth bared at the wind,

you are autumn’s last ember.

Never would I yearn for summer

in the presence of your lunar smile.

Amidst the city’s electric hum,

I sing only of you,

November,

of the frost that numbs my bones.

Never would I retreat inside

and forsake the glory of autumn’s end.

To Be Loved.

Oh, to be loved is not to sit and talk,

It's not drinking each other's blood,

It is a pure magic- to help and learn,

growing does matter, It's how we born,

this is a way of healing of broken hearts,

that's the true feeling when I see your eyes,

when they sparkle like I've never seen before,

and the pain releases, we prepare for inside-war.

Oh, to be loved is to see through darkness,

Through your path showing the unknown,

It is how to set it free, and we'll no longer

be incapable, separated and not enough.

To be loved is to be "you and me",

to feel it as long as you breathe,

as long as you stay to live.

Growing out of ideas

Is like drinking an empty cup,

Forgetting what is real,

Forgetting how it hurts.

Another motion thrown

In curiousity to burn

pages that never opened.

It is time.. for the other side.

—T.F.S.

Silent thoughts.

Behind the sickness

I'd wish to drown

In your affection

I seek, I draw

the feeling

of death's birth,

a feeling like that

It never regrets.

You stole what I felt

Freedom could step

Into the unknown

Into the farewell,

It never became dark

But just lonely,

not enough.

—T.F.S.

How is it possible for me to remember the simplest movements of hands unknown to me:

They collect the memories slowly, with ease, so as not to drop them

and the words stop the music that I created for myself in silence.

But do they hear my sobbing heart

isolated by mirrored walls?

-t.f.s.

Yet another poem about emptiness and how to see it in a new way.

SEPTEMBER

song of the simple truth: the complete poems - julia de burgos / a september day - george henry / excerpt from a letter to aurelia plath - sylvia plath / french autumn - artem tolstukhin / earthquake weather - janice gould / blue shutters - kim english / a girl ago - lucie brock-broido / little women (2019) dir. greta gerwig / september garden party - jane kenyon / constanze saemann and charlotte foubert photographed by ryan brabazon / september 1st - dante émile

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.In his house at R'lyeh dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.” H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu House of R'lyeh by Talon Abraxas

I am flesh, I am a memory, a simple thought easily forgotten, hardly perceived sometimes I am not myself and whoever I am in those moments cannot be trusted yet they've been allowed monopoly over my mind, or at least a mind that we share, I cannot collect my thoughts as they cannot collect me, I am a moment, an experience, a sensation, often wanted often not, hardly anything special,. Yet I ache for completion, an almost parasitic hunger, I attempt to devour myself, lest I be consumed by another,as my lungs battle the weakness that infected them, whatever pride I had mustered laid dead before me, as I made my peace on my knees, ever obedient To those that would do me harm, yet in rare moments that I am not who I say I am trust not my words of obedience and meekness for violence and bloody revolt follows soon after, I am a stone upon the pathway, to cause you to stumble or to be used against your enemies. I am a cool evening breeze, that either brings comfort and relief, or heralds a greater storm to come, I am a leaf, fallen and dried resting beneath a tree surrounded by kindling, to be crushed beneath your feet to your satisfaction or to nurse a spark that would set the whole forest ablaze, I am nothing to you but what I can give, i can be your aide, a warning or simply your undoing

Mephistos-stuff

I think we can all agree that loving the moon makes you automatically a certified academic.

Mother Nature.

The Poet Beyond

I’m sorry I’m not a poet

Though I masquerade; I flow it

My pen moves too often when it is not my hand.

Indeed it is my fingers, but those lines were not my land.

There is a writer, beyond my view.

And they supply me with poems that are new.

I wish to pen, wish to spill

But my mind sits empty, despite my will.

And in moments as such, when I have the need, but not the ink

The Poet beyond my eyes offers me his drink.

And so he lets me steal from him a rhyme or two

In hopes it unlocks one of mine, in time, or a few.

But often I walk away with the whole work, and he knows it.

Because though I may want to be, I’m sorry, I’m not a poet.

Trap

Tied in a fairytale,

when an episode

stucks its tongue,

dropping you out,

waiting for another

death to slide in.

-t.f.s.

Notes to myself.

Killing the happiness

is like killing an animal

or nature that gives

hundred of lives.

My ideas are illusion

and illusion makes me company

after I lose my confidence.

Whatever I am, whoever I was

is the past that I've re-written.

There's a new flesh bleeding

In my cells in divine,

whatever needs to be finished,

my past will lay in pieces.

-t.f.s.

For another sad human without a realization.

Deadly virus.

In depths of evil,

fingers in the dirt pray

to welcome God's darkness,

to take us upper in the air.

Floating secrets hidden in minds,

mouths covered with mud

to grow a poison so good,

feel the tearing pleasure,

plague is coming to greet us.

-t.f.s.

Horror.

What seems to crawl in, it crawls out

Inside of a demon summoning evil.

Dusty powder flying over the moon

creating darkness of magic in doom.

Dreadful stroke breaks within,

stuck in humanity's disorder

Inside of terrible insanity power.

-t.f.s.

Tunes.

Wherever I see light,

my eyes drown in vain.

Audience swims

in my bloody stains.

Green palettes mixture

in the middle of forest trees,

silence repeats in tunes,

mind's a body killer.

-t.f.s.

Pressure.

Whole deadly dim of glory

flows with dirty air of essence

deeper than thoughts,

surround my chest.

Where are those voices

who scatter our breath,

names falling down,

faces stay the same.

Flashing lights recall,

the depths of spirits

they stroke to dawn.

Losing part of faith,

magnificent gesture

breaks away the silence,

without a cloak,

darkness is dull.

-t.f.s.

𝖍.𝖕. 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖆𝖋𝖙🖤🐙

[please reblog or like if you saved]

𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖛𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊🖤

[please reblog or like if you saved]

Window.

Behind faint panes

there is darkness,

doomed greyness

flowing over

as a night sky

within deepest

dreams, empty

and spaced.

-t.f.s.

Witch.

Blood's boiling

mercy's on my hands.

Casting a spell,

another universe dwells.

-t.f.s.

I find myself in awakening,

time loses it's power to release,

my mind used to be a tower

where no longer It has defeat.

-t.f.s.

Overdue

Assignments piled up

Dull nights in a stressful daze

Menacing mountains

Reborn.

Feels so good to be reborn,

my room of art awaits me,

let the sunset shine on me,

let it paint me in warmth.

-t.f.s.

In the dark.

In the dark we open minds

just like a box of fantasy,

I want to take a brain trip

to your imaginary system.

In the dark we open minds,

close intentions,outside's cold,

chasing the shadows you're a hunter,

following your steps, devil's a stalker,

don't come closer, it's dark fantasy.

-t.f.s.

What Feels To Be Unreal.

I could feel Earth's vibrations coming.

Breathing. Slow motion.

Sky is running out of time. Animals disappear from ground.

Eyes are haunting in the night, flashes cut inside.

The enemy grows bigger as hearts are getting eaten,

eyes swollen, hands shaking from earth's largest power

in Universe- cosmic danger regeneration;

penetration is on, poison sucks on your skin,

tongue freezes,painting the back of your sin,

creating rooms of dust and evil, envy and kill;

hands are tightening the weight of the world,

Earth's shaking, eyes see everything

In a world drowning in madness, faking

all the goodness flying, air dirty, souls dying.

Powerless and absorbed on the edge of regret,

living nightmares with the walking dead,

end is near as our humanity,

in shape-box as hanged pig,

nobody hears the insanity

we've came along to fear.

Hands shaking, Earth's breaking

new dawn is taking our last scene.

World is so gone, nothing's real.

-t.f.s.

Monster.

A storm of madness

inside a dark hole

smashes existence

wearing Devil's name

on It's face.

-t.f.s