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

Posted on by Undead Diaries · 3 Comments

Lured By Promises

Come on in,
Dip your toes in this-

Though I can't promise that the water will always be fine
In this tumultuous sea,
I will be your net,
Your safety boat,
Your clamouring hand
That reaches the shore,
That life-guard's vest
With a red whistle to blow
A calm embrace,
A caress to the face,
But while this siren says...
Your drowning I cannot replace.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

The Real Monsters Remain

Fret not, little child,
The monsters under your bed are long gone,
The next monsters you must fear
Lurk within the minds of men.

It enslaves their heart,
And lives off their soul,
Construing their figures beyond recognition.
Turning them into a shell of their former person.

Fret not, little child,
Such monsters are a part of life,
They live within us all and live all too well,
For why else would poets of old admire your innocence,
Your childlike wonder, lost to the seas of time?

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Nocturne


Sweet Nocturne,
She needs not the light of day,
Nor the labours that do not pay,
For with her she has numerous nebulae,
That keep her at bay.

She is oft mistaken with coldness and death,
But in her darkness one finds a hearth,
A truly limitless rebirth,
Yet one that blazes with solace.

It needs no light
And does not burn too bright,
So as to hurt your eyes
And feed you with all-encompassing lies.

For sweet Nocturne is Wicked
Man’s veil,
Though the many layers of her beauty
Enclose many in pain,
Those lost souls always searching for their way
Will always find themselves in that dark haze.

– Maya Desdemona, Arsh.

Posted on by Undead Diaries

The Burning Cold

Walk through the Hearth
As you would ice,
And from the cold flames
Your new self will rise.

Behead your past,
Be off with its head.
After the Flames have cleansed you,
You will freeze your dread.

Succumb to the Cold,
Invite the warmth of the Fireplace
For your sins have been frozen,
But your pitiful self remains.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries · 1 Comment

Day Thirty: Waltzing Masquerade

In this ballroom,
They are bride and groom.
But it truly seems,
That this arrangement attracts doom.

For they are but puppets,
Forced to dance on a never-ending stage,
So they play their parts to perfection,
Praying that someday,
Things will change.

For whom are you putting on this act?
To which great masquerade artist
Are you trying to prove yourself?

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Day Twenty Eight: Prison Pastimes

Pessoa once wrote
In his Book of Disquiet,
That "Only the imprisoned,
With the fascination 
Of someone watching ants,
Would pay such attention
To one shifting ray of sunlight."

At first I begged to differ,
Stating my reasoning
That great poets were never once caged,
But the more I thought on the matter
The clearer it seemed to me,
That the only cage holding such a poet
Is one of his own decree.

– Maya Desdemona