MysteriousAkavir's blog: "Poetry"

Darkness is my kingdom as astral vapors swirl about me, swaddling me in a blanket sewn of cosmic wind and undiscovered memories. Hidden within a locket lie all the answers the world has ever known and many more we dread. Aeons passed as nothing filled the endless void, a great black sea alive amongst the absence of life; great infernos rage, tumultuously tossed amidst illusion and unvision. Astral winds carry a scent of death and mystery, reminding us of a time when we were more than what we are now; a time of eldritch lore and cyclopean myth, where great creatures roamed, and we were free as we had never known; free to explore the cosmic sea, the astral void that we called home.

To hate, I need not try; A gleam within mine eye. I only know, To make you go, That I must make you die. Your life I need to reave; Your head I make to cleave. I only know, To make you go, That I must MAKE you leave. Darkness o’er my heart, Our sweet love made so tart. I only know, To make you go, That we must finally part. My love has turned to hate; No happiness as of late. I only know, To make you go, That I shall seal your fate. You’ve refused to bend; Our love can never mend; I only know, To make you go, That we must finally end.

Pools of lava burble around, I watch the beast between the eyes, Raise my sword to slay the beast. The beast lets loose a deafening sound. As I devise his demise I promise to avenge the deceased. The beast lunges, I swing my sword. The blade ricochets off scales, Bending the fine steel. My courage restored, I search for tiny details, The world seeming surreal. I grab the blade made by Giants. I throw the blade fast, Watch the terror in the beast. As I make Death’s newest client, I feel relief at last, As the beast becomes the deceased.

In a cold and desolate moonlit chest A pale gray body lays at rest. His eyes glazed over, rolled back in his head, His heart is stopped, his body dead. Blood does not flow through his veins, His body cold, immune to pains. Bare white fangs sit in his head, The signature mark of the undead. Undead strength clenches a clawed fist, His anger flares at years he missed. He attempts to flee his silver coffin, But pauses when he finds he’s locked in. With one strong arm, the lid he smashes. With anger at the world, he lashes. Slaughtering victims, vengeance he needs. His call, his undead minions heed. He finds his enemy heavily guarded, an army at his side. He makes an army of his own, his time he does bide. A vampire legion he does make, Drawing souls from the fiery lake. Great battles rage, vampires prove stronger, Able to fight the battle longer. Fallen soldiers hit the ground, Their slaughtered bodies strewn around. At his wounded enemy he stares, With malice and hatred he glares. He glories at his foes pain, This cruel vampire, his name is Kain.

Thousand of soldiers, deeply devout, Their chances to live are extremely dire. The warring starts with a single shout, Fighting the enemy with furious ire. Swords clash and metal rings As soldiers die for jealous kings. Rockets fly and dying men wail, Hoping their comrades will finally prevail. Bodies fall and horses die; Morale is in short supply. Vastly outnumbered, the soldiers sing And pray and hope for better things. Kings fight wars with other men’s lives, And make widows of women who used to be wives. Blood stains the ground, As fallen warriors lay all around. Men fight and main and kill; Their king’s will, they must fulfill. Yet, when the brave warriors die, The mighty king, he does not cry…

A cold and lonely moonlit night Plays on a child’s every fright. A whistling wind there, a shadow here Amplifies a child’s fear. Cold dead leaves crunch underfoot, The child trips on a gnarly root. The trees are demons, hiding a beast Hungry for his little boy feast. Tears stream down the child’s face His body stuck, frozen in place. The demons are coming, he hears their calls As they issue forth from Darkness Falls. The child runs fast, to mountains end. Chills down his spine, the demon’s send. Closer now, the beasts draw near, Playing off his every fear. Long curling horns, flaming red eyes, Ensuring this young boy’s demise. Hooves made of steel, claws of flame Weapons used to cut, kill, and maim. The child backs out onto a ledge, Rocks and dirt falling over the edge. The demon’s breath, sticky and hot Ties his stomach into a knot. The boys limbs are seized, his body pulled tight. His cries ring out, cutting through the black night. His skin is charred black, his stomach cut wide. Onto the ground spill all that’s inside. His skin peels as he crawls slowly away, His torturing ends with first break of day. The lead demon, to the rest he calls, And they throw the small boy off Darkness Falls.

The sun goes down. Evil comes out. My mind goes numb, Enduring its final bout. My hand grips cold metal; From the barrel drifts smoke. To th ink, this whole mess Began as a joke. Pouring in sheets, The rain beats down. I lower the gun, My face in a frown. The adrenaline rush, The psychotic thrill. This innocent man, I ruthlessly kill. Spreading wide on the pavement, The blood slowly pools. Silently, I watch As the smoking gun cools. I hear the sirens, Begin to run. I chuckle carelessly; This is fun. Jumping a fence, Through someone’s yard, Running through an alley, Lungs pumping hard. Out of the alley, I see the lights. The blaze of fire Takes me to new heights. Pain sears my shoulder, I take no heed. I return fire, Appeasing my need. The officer drops, I double back. The criminal cunning, The officers lack. Back through the yard, Back over the fence. Into the street My footfalls commence. Pistol fire rings through the night, Striking me through and through. I smile as I crumple down, Knowing I’ll begin anew. The blood pours from my body, Mixing with the rain. Chuckling, I feel no pain. Evil lives on, Its power renown. Evil lives on When the sun goes down.

It is the mask that clouds us all No matter how big or no matter how small. Forever it pulls you, throughout this so-called Thing that is love, and leaves you enthralled. True Love is clouded by his or her mask, But undoing this mask is not a small task. It requires a skill that was lost in the past That emerges to fulfill and usually last. Not always continue, does this thing called True Love, And sometimes it leaves on the wings of a dove. But you must push on, and keep your heart pure Because if you don't, True Love's Mask stays secure.