Posted on by Undead Diaries · 1 Comment

Ghosts of Time

I am haunted,
Haunted by ghosts.
'Could have been', 'Should have been',
'Could be', and 'Should be' 
Are their names.
Alas, it is only these four
That fill my lonesome days.

'Could have been',
'Could have been',
How pitiful you are!
Your grandiose wishes
Were crushed by
Circumstance and chance.

'Should have been'
Shushes all others,
A pearl among the gems.
He lies like a carcass
Hewn for the hounds, helpless.

'Could be' is the cruellest of them all,
A cry to the present,
But to 'face thyself' is to 'face thy enemy',
'Tis but a cascading conquest.

'Should be' is the sternest,
The shrillest of the four,
The future is in her hands,
Though the past is set in stone.

These companions, mine,
Seem to enter the eye
Only in the depths of Night,
To flow like sand under a rock,
Wasting hours of my life.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Arsh

Can I Stay?

Can I still have this
For just one night more?
I know that you're not right for me,
And I'm not the one that you want.

But I don't want to pack my bags yet,
And remove myself from this place.
This place we built up together,
Where we could just be ourselves.

Just let me ignore the world
For just one night more.
Once the sun's up, I know we'll be strangers,
But tonight, I just want to stay.

– Arsh

Posted on by Arsh

The War Begins Silently

The beginning of the war will be secret. 
There will be no parades or commendations, 
No grand declarations nor proud generals boasting.
No vaunting valour for the brave soldiers 
Marching surely down to their doom.
The beginning of the war will be secret.

It will begin as these things always do,
Slowly marching to an inexorable doom.
A flower's petals gradually unfurl, 
And the dominoes to be toppled are all placed. 
Back door deals and under the table betrayals, 
The beginning of the war will be secret.

– Arsh

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Night Lights (In The Big City: Part One)

Thunder furiously rumbled across the dark night sky. Pensive, brooding, sulking.
Just like the moody Evelynne Yvonne Marie.
Twirling coils of smoke left the cigar between her fingers, as she stared at the twisting, raging tongues of fire caged in her lighter, begging for release.

How did she end up here? She wasn’t quite sure. But as she stood, sagging her fatigued figure over the rooftop railing, all she could do was gaze at the millions of miniature lights dimly lighting the city below.
“Strange, how the World is so bright even in the darkest of times…” she mused out loud, to no one in particular except the biting cold thrown around by the violent winds. She seemed to sway dangerously towards whichever side this tempest took her, as the only parts of herself fixed to anything at all were her eyes, still staring ahead.

In the far distance, a loud crack of thunder carried itself across the city sky, bringing with it the harsh, steady sound of rain hitting all, be it building, pedestrian, or pavement. Even so, the lights shined as bright as ever, never once dimming.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Thoughts of a Night Owl

My heart is locked in a bony cage,
Where it writhes and turns for Freedom's sweet lips.

It toils to keep this mortal vessel alive,
Yet struggles to find some peace of mind.

But Darkness calls with comfort and change,
Death's loving embrace so gentle and safe,

The Night calls away all worries formed by Day.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Ode To The Burnt (Matchstick)

Are you a burnt little matchstick?
Struck against scraping sandpaper
Till you shine bright enough to be a star,
But the joy of being enough is robbed by the end, without going far.

Burnt, crippled, broken, and used,
Now showing no more potential nor promise,
You are thrown away by the world,
Tossed in a pile without a thought,
The light you brought, they forgot,
So they have simply left you to rot.

-Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Loss

I suppose there was truth when Calpurnia said:
"The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes."

For as I stare out my window,
Glancing at heaven above and ground below,
I see white lilies mourn the loss of a kind soul from this world,
And the mighty heavens themselves stand in shame at their helplessness.

On this day
A great and kindly spirit was robbed from this Earth,
Far too early, sooner than one would anticipate,

And simply...
That.

That spirit has left this Earth, and left us mortals in its wake
As fleeting as the picture captured
With these gifts called memories.

-Desdemona