Posted on by Undead Diaries

The Legacy of Man 

For what can Man do, 
Except follow its predecessors today? 
Regardless of the path, 
It all ends with the grave. 

Till the heart ceases to beat 
And the hand ceases to move, 
Till the corpse has no heat 
And the mind achieves no feat. 

Yet even beyond the grave 
All men are remembered in some way 
And it is through their ideas, 
Legendary and brave. 

We know not their life, 
We know not their strife, 
At times, we know not even their name. 
But we know what they did. 

A legacy remains. 

It will only follow, 
Through sickness and health, 
Through poverty and death 
In hopes that it can even live to compare 
To the might of those who left it behind.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Arsh

Rat Race

This rat race that 
We are trapped in, 
Feels inescapable, 
Immutable.

"Remember the bright side!" 
Nameless, faceless voices chant when shoving 
Their positivity down your throat, 
Restricting.

"Is this marketable?" seems to be 
The only question all art is asked, 
Stifling soul and creativity, 
Conforming.

This rat race that we 
Live our lives in, 
Is all that we will know, 
Forever.

– Arsh

Posted on by Undead Diaries · 1 Comment

Omnipresent Burdens

In every breath I take,
I only fill my emptiness
With air
For a brief while.

A longer release from this nameless burden that sits over me,
Would really be appreciated, you see?

I cannot breathe in for too long,
The weight returns with a spiking pain,
As painful as a somber memory...

Without name and cause,
This burden rests above my chest,
Yet from there it will not budge,
And I must be an Atlas, holding up the sky.

But wherefore does this weary weight come from,
It weighs heavy on the worn soul,
And when one knows not its cause,
It resembles a mystery to unfold.

My life is good and my worries are few,
Yet this immaterial intangible weight
Still constantly rests on my soul.

Are there others in this world
With so queer a tale to tell?
So I ask, dear readers,
So you feel such impending dread?

– 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.