[x]

Under a Witches SkyAnd lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of

The Man and the MoonHer mouth corners hung themselves
and I began to wonder if that was the death of them.
A simple, quiet death;
without broken fingernails lining the walls
with the stripes of a despairing end.
I began to ache with the questioning in my heart
with the echoes reverberating in my capillaries
of her face scorching sunshine in her smile
right before it crumpled
and nothing was left but a frowning moon
set firm in its resignation to an upcoming eclipse.

SpeakeasyI can feel you like a phantom,
sensation without touch,
like breath in winter
or a misty mountain morning
that stays with me
until the stars fall in evening.

Your eyes contain the secrets
your lips would dare to betray,
but your body tells the story
and I am trying
to read between the lines
of your paperback smiles.

A grazing touch, a covert glance,
the memories remain
as skin grows warm and red
beneath lying fingertips
that claim incidental contact
a thousand times a day.

Of course,
it's not the kind of thing we say
when we are speaking
without talking and feeling
without touching
and thinking without knowing...

all of the things

Dandelion QueenI dream of the ocean;
that paper-thin line where
the current swallows the stars
and the water churns violet

(you tell me to be
quiet,

dandelion queen, we've
heard all these words before)

tonight
I will sleep heavy
and wake a few hours before dawn,
only to forget my name

my wave-weathered heart will cry,
I will cry (my biggest fear
is drowning in too many
of my own weighted words

you tell me to be
quiet
so I can hear the world breathe)

I want to go home

Overgrown ColorsRed like blood on a rose.
White like bone and stars.
Black like reclusiveness.
Green like dead air.
Orange like the savage instinct.
Purity like a god's heart.
Red like thawing hatred.
White like a frozen, severe cry.
Black like the night's deprived shadows.
Green like the wind in the grass.
Orange like the light in the shadows.
Purity like the sun rising.
So discharging through the moon in a wheeze is like luminous white, dispersed red.

We Can't Be Together.Every kiss you plant on my lips,
Takes a little bit of my soul away.

You're stealing the passion,
You're invading my heart,
And killing what emotion I've left untouched.
Stop this.
I can't love you.

I've tried to before,
Oh my god,
Have I tried.

Tried to unlock the doors to myself,
Tried to open up,
And let you in.
But as soon as I took one look,
Negativity took it's opportunity,
And struck the hot iron I'd been molding.

Every word you mutter
My knees falter under
You're killing me

You're my kryptonite
I'm your paradise
But in this odd peace that seems to be approaching
I can't find happiness.

We aren't meant to be together
But this

WindowsHere am I, repeated,
and beyond waits everything
but everything is more
than I can bear.

I am not built for altitude
nor looking far afield;
groves and granite-sided mountains
stop my gaze

like rest for every tired wing;
a cover in the coldest time
snugged up beneath my chin.

Windows nothing more,
but safe lies there behind them
as the chambered hours pass;

safe sleeps there behind them
on the soft side of the glass.

Poet as PainterThe world
Your dusty palette,
The pen
Your muddied paintbrush:

Dip into
The impossible
Colour
Of imagination

And stain
The pristine slate
With an
Image distilled.

BoyfriendI thought you were good.

You WERE good.

You played with my hair.

You held me when I cried.

You were a gentleman.

You made me laugh.

You kissed me.

You loved me.

I loved you.

It was then that I learned the truth.

The dirty, rotten, stinking truth.

About you!

You cheated.

You played with her hair.

You kissed her.

You loved her.

You made her laugh.

I saw you – don’t you dare deny it.

I saw you giving her that love.

That same love you gave me.

I break up with you.

You don’t even seem to care.

Did you ever love me at all?

Or was it only ever her?

Much later, you’ll realize what a mistake you made.

I

with thanks to frosttwo roads diverged in a soulless dawn
and you pull over,
idling on the shoulder of route 50.
it's a polaroid morning and
the world is as grainy
and sleep-heavy
as your eyes,
and one million miles
is not far enough.
it plays back, filmstrip,
blurred along the length of
optic nerves,
and here you are:
facing a choice between
on
and
out.
and this?
this loosejointed, hollowbodied
weightless ache--
this is what
gone
feels like.

Dry Spell I am immobilized by time.
by the idea that it is somehow slipping,
fleeting,
evaporating
through the cracks of
my fingers and high

above my head.
I am terrified by the incessant notion
that no combination of thoughts,
words,
silences,
or actions
could possibly satiate it.

I realize only now that it can never be filled:
all which is tossed into it is swallowed in haste
or stretched
so far
that it dissolves into non-being.
I find that I am caught within its furrows
much like the words it devo

untitledGold abundant at your feet,
Heart ripe and pumping on your sleeve,
And eternal admiration;
To say happiness has evaded you
Would be asylum-esque lunacy
For you have nothing to lose,
Fate is on your side,
The odds are in your favor infinitely
Do not waste the gift you’ve received

You Don't Know ItYou don't know it, but you kept me sane
I nearly went over the edge
With a knife in one hand and a gun in the other
But you grabbed me
Pulled me back on my own two feet
Emptied my hands
And when you realized that I couldn't stand on my own
You hugged me
Like a mother would do for her child
Like a friend would do for, dare I say, another friend

You don't know it, but when you saved me
I felt free
I felt wanted
I felt needed
I felt, dare I say, loved

You don't know it, but when you showed me kindness
I fell in love
In love with your kindness
That same sweet kindness you saved me with
It felt like I found a new home
One that I could be, dare

Pull Her Hair/Stare At The StarsThe ghosts have crashed their ship
on the other side of town,
you can see it from the second floor
all the way over here.
You can see the white clouds
rising from the wreck
and a nova of heat, a big bright
nova of warmth pulling the moths and wolves
out from the woods (with their noses up and searching).
You can smell the yearning like bees
leaving the hive, like the grizzly brown bears
on the jagged white mountains (concrete and imposing).
They call it fear,
but I see these ghosts
scrambling up into the sky
and I like to think it's
something different entirely.

clicheTo those who hold bird bones
on the edge of their limbs,
there are dissipated lungs
filled with skies
longing for pillars of fire
rather than bottled souls
kept in the brink of captivity
too big for sparrows.

To those with the cancer
of building and rebuilding
their minute sentences
into salt-shaken metaphors,
sometimes a whisper
trying to be a rhapsody
will never be the same as
a declaration,
an aubade on it's own.

To those who empty
their ash trays
like cremated dust onto
salivating pores and
two cents of syllables weeping
by your windowsill,
there's sand in your mouth.
sand so red that oxygen
will mistake it for blood
so your words wi

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A Collection of Macabre PoetryBlood Echo
O, crimson elixir, how divine you taste.
Flooding my mouth, a dying body falls from grace.
My eyes sparkle; your life ebbs away.
I finish, you're not alive to face the day.

O, crimson elixir, indeed, what a sight.
The echo of dripping, within the fleeting night.
The air hangs heavy, the blood trickles low,
Forever onward, so stained was the snow.

I step, leaving tracks in the coming dawn.
I hear a scream of surprise, still I move on.
The pure essence of white falls steadily down.
So peaceful, opaque, and without a sound.

The perfect surrounding, for a killer like me.
I look at the sky, and smile at what I see.
Not on

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Prototype

by ~Loweryi, Mar 29, 2009, 6:07:11 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

  It's not every day your past is ripped
                 away from your mind, and
        your future is rendered obsolete.
    And I'm sure that they aren't
             a commonplace occurrence—
                                         (or are they?)
                      those chases across the city,
        those narrow escapes from enslavement
                    or worse.
           But why complain? After all,
                      with unbridled power comes
            the knowledge that you're
                      next in line
                                    to die.
      From those shadows of eyeless masks,
        it's only normal to be killed time and time again.
It's all they can hope for,
             because everything else is destroyed
   already.
        It's too much work to try and tame
the beast that dwells in the air, lungs, earth,
               slowly consuming everyone near
                           collapse already.

Prototypeby ~Loweryi

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Call me lame, but when I find something new and awesome, I think about it, a lot, in every possible way I can.

So I began to imagine...
What if I were in Alex Mercer's shoes?

Waking up on an autopsy table, with no memory of my past, no hope for the future, a misfit as a human and infected human alike.
And I'm being hunted. No, I should be the hunter. And I will be. And I will bring retribution.
What right does anyone have to do that?

Anyway, call me a weirdo, but I like thinking beyond the limits I am given. And when I decide to write poems, well, stuff like this comes out.

Enjoy.

Can't wait for [Prototype] to come out!

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

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~~neutral 0 0~~

~Dianacat777 Nov 4, 2012

Okay, this is beautiful. 8D

~The-Hero-Killa Apr 8, 2009 Writer

I am going to preorder prototype. I have been following it for about three months, I have seen it evolve.

~Loweryi Apr 8, 2009 Student General Artist

Seriously, me too.
It was kind of a mistake for the developers to show the alpha videos because in the beginning the game really wasn't all that developed.
But NOW?
Goddamn! it looks amazing.
There's a pretty awesome story and you get to play as a practically unstoppable badass. What more could you ask for?

~The-Hero-Killa Apr 8, 2009 Writer

Yeah, I still think the alpha videos were pretty good, but you shoul see how much it has evolved in a year.

I watched a video of the creators playing it last april. Then I watched one from this year. BIG DIFFERENCE!

~Loweryi Apr 8, 2009 Student General Artist

I thought they were good too, since I hadn't really seen a game with a main character that was so unstoppable and powerful, but unfortunately a bunch of whiners had to show up and complain about "bad graphics" and "it's not actually parkour" and the rated the game down before they even got a demo.

And I found a video a little while ago of a developer playing the game and now the graphics and moves look so awesome that I sincerely hope all those complainers at first realize how much they were wrong.
But it's definitely a big difference. I can only hope that in these last few months before the ship Prototype will get even more awesome still!

~The-Hero-Killa Apr 8, 2009 Writer

Also, they have certain AI things. Like running on cars isnt too tough and certain moves are simpler than they look.

I kind of wish it would be more complicated for experienced gamers, but it doesnt matter.

My favorite part is his wall running and the move where he "surfs" on a man.

~Lianvis-Amnell Mar 31, 2009

It's pretty deep ... but I like it!

~Loweryi Apr 3, 2009 Student General Artist

Thanks =] and thanks for the fav as well!

~Lianvis-Amnell Apr 3, 2009

You're welcome! I don't see a lot of well-written poems around. Yours are pretty good!

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