Ethereal Blood-smeare

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A strike of lightning
A defective hearing
Blinded by the sight of blood
As flashbacks of you flood

Stay quiet now
Im connected to the other realm
Do you feel safe
When no one’s at the helm?

Broken bulbs
Everything seems so dim
A shot at redemption
But my chances seem so slim

This connection is surreal
I can’t see but I can feel
I think I understand
The things that got out of hand

So take me away, please take me away
And with these blood drenched- hands
I face another day
You’re taking me away, to an ethereal place
Devoid of time and space

-The DementED

Hi readers! I’m back. Im sorry I’ve been really busy these past few days and I exoect to be even busier. So I’ll probably be posting just once a week from here on out. Thanks for the continued views 🙂

Savior Syndrome

You’re a time bomb
With a switched off ticker
You’re a loaded gun
But nobody wants to pull the trigger

You act like you’re a savior
But at best, you’re mediocre
An unnecessary Batman
To a non-existent Joker

You say you can save me
But you’re the one that needs saving
You talk like a saint
But you’re often misbehaving

Im not saying I dont need to be saved
Maybe I do,
But if anyone could, I know it’s not you
Before you try to save me,
Save yourself.

-The DementED

Sometimes, the simplest sounding poems may mean more than what your common sense dictates . 🙂

You might also want to check out: A Maiden’s Affliction

Photo credit: Kaleo Li of Pinterest

Genuine Smile

Silhouette nights, trying to bind your new face.
Riptide days, wasn’t too soon anyways
So here it goes, temporary bliss.
Ohh, but it’s only hit or miss.

Blemish in my mood,
Poison in my food,
Pebbles in my shoes
Running out of booze

Silhouette dreams, trying to give false hopes
Stormy days, steeping up the slopes,
So here it goes, temporary bliss
Will you come home to our abyss

Playful eyes,
Perfect for your disguise
Trembling voice
Exposing out your noise

Would it be boring?
Ignoring everything?
Oh it’s been a while,
Since I’ve felt that genuine smile

-The DementED

Supposed to be a song but too lazy to figure out the chords and add riffs. Hence, the irregularities of the poem. 🙂
 

You might also want to check out my poem about vices (smoking especially): Stories Behind Bad Habits

This poem is a response to the daily prompt: Playful

The Great Pretender

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You throw the punchlines,
But the joke’s always been on you
You say all the clichés
But you only speak and not do

You tell your friends to have hope
But you turn your back when there’s a slope
You tell a girl you love her,
But love for yourself you can’t even foster

You talk like you’re loud and proud,
But wear a mask when there’s a crowd
Be warned, for in this game of pretending,
You’ll only lose in the ending

-The DementED
Playful

You might also want to check out my previous poem: Smooth Seas

A Kid Again

 

 

Like a snap of a finger
My childhood gone the morning after
The dark clouds started to pour
And washed my heart’s grandeur

Before, I always play
Now, In my dark room I stay
Back then, we used to bond
Now, horrors of life to me has dawned

From the swaying of the swing
to answering every ring
From balancing in the seesaw
to condemning my every flaw

From running in the hills
to chugging down the pills
From enjoying the mountain breeze
to being down on my knees

From fearing the roar of thunder
to fearing one another
From playing under the sun
to hiding from everyone

From playing hide and seek
to having a busy week
From wanting all the candy
to having greed of money
If I could turn back time
I’d give away my every dime
It’s getting hard to take in
Just wanna be a kid again

-The Demented

 

This poem is a response to the daily prompt: 
Childhood

A Maiden’s Affliction

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Her high-pitched scream reaches my ears,
And every bone in my body shivers
She made a home inside my head
So I’ll write her every whisper

Her black lipstick matches the color of her heart
Like the effervescent still waters
Stitches in her skin are like art
And the scars were finishing touches

She eats makeup just to stay skinny
And puts laxatives in her face
She’ll pull the trigger anytime
But she’d rather just sit and wait

The tips of her nails, she bites and chews
But she barely touches her food
She has friends in her front
But none on her rear, just knives already glued

Wrapped around her neck the constricts of society,
and a weight left on her shoulder
For every dream she had, and every man who broke her heart
a bruise left as reminder

Tongues like daggers everywhere
and eyes like laser beams
She can’t go out without an armor
A figure to talk to and a box to dwell
is all she really clamors

-The DementED

Cheers to all the ladies going through the woes brought about by society. You’re beautiful. Please live on. 🙂

 

You might also wanna check out: The Voices Inside My Head – Why I Write

or related poems: A Date with the Dead, Hopeless, Not Romantic

The Voices Inside My Head – Why I Write

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Credits to fashioniq.com

“I write because…..”

Before I finish that, I have just reached 350 visitors today (Yeyyy!) and therefore, I’d like to take this moment to thank everyone who viewed this blog and to my regular readers.  Now that I got that out, allow me to  say why I’m writing this post.

Most of us who write have reasons as to why we do so. Everytime I visit a blog and read an article, I appreciate its beauty and then I wonder “Why does he/she write?”. So for my readers who are probably asking the same question, this is for you. (or for those who have never read my work, maybe this will convince you to read my pieces.)

To those who have already read a few of my works here, you have probably observed that though not all, most of what I write are dark in nature. I’ve written pieces about death/suicide (A Date with the Dead), failure (Nine Lives), unrequited love (Hopeless, Not Romantic), daily stress and woes (The Breakfast Drama), vices and bad habits (Stories Behind Bad Habits), disdain towards someone (Full Moon Blues), dangers of “being yourself” (Dangerous Business) and even isolation and introvertion (Isolation Nation), etc.

And so, let me continue the first sentence I was about to write.

I write because there are voices in my head. No, I’m not literally demented, as what my username might suggest. The voices I’m referring to are the ideas swirling inside my mind. These voices dictate every word that I type, every sentence, every stanza, every rhyme.

These voices didn’t just exist out of nowhere. They were born after every crucial life event. After I grieved, after I had my heartbreaks, after I had my failures, but also after every lesson I’ve learned. Nevertheless, as explained in my first post (Step Inside My Mind), the things I write aren’t entirely about me. Therefore, the voices in my head aren’t all just mine. Some of them are from my friends, some of them from my family members, some of them from people online just like you. Their life experiences inspire me to write. When I talk to people heart-to-heart, I realize how similar we are in some ways and that we are all going through our own battles.

So while some poets get ideas from staring at the sun, roaming around the city and smelling the sea breeze. (Don’t get me wrong, that’s really great too and I also do that sometimes, but mostly) I get ideas and inspiration from people.

So I write not because I want to be famous. Not because I want fortune or any material thing. I write because the voices in my head are telling me to reach out. I write because they tell me that there may be others who are experiencing hardships and battles similar to mine and to the people I’ve talked to. I write so that when they read my works, they won’t feel so alone. I believe that it’s probably my Purpose. I carried on, people I knew carried on, and therefore, they can too.

That’s probably the most cliche thing you’ve read all day, right? Haha. But that’s all true, and I don’t know any other way to say it. So, do expect more works to come from me. I will keep writing for as long as I can.

So, how about you? How are you doing with your life? Have you fought unimaginable battles too? Don’t be afraid. Reach out. Talk to someone. (You can always talk to me, just see my Contact page) Or better yet, write your own blog. You can paste your link in my comment section and I will find time to read your works. I promise.

Anything will do, just follow the voices inside of you.

So, what are the voices inside your head telling you?

 

 

Withered Past, Blurry Purpose

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Credits to derlevi

Ever since I was a kid
I’ve always really wondered
What is my purpose?
I often loudly blundered

I always thought that to love
Is what I need to do,
Find myself a partner
And love her oh so true

But then I met this girl
She only broke my world
It left me inconsolable
My open heart curled

And so I thought
Maybe to work is my goal
Strive hard daily
And wait for my payroll

But after the daily grind
Of trying to reach my goal
It left my body stressed
And exhausted up my soul

So I was left wondering
What am I to do?
When I’ve tried everything
And still left without clue

Perhaps figuring out my purpose
Is a purpose in itself
Reach out to the world
And not hide in a shelf

Giving service can be a start
Spread the goodness in people’s heart
Or have passion in everything
So even work won’t be boring

But then again,
I still have lots of woes
So many problems left to fix
And issues left to close

And dealing with my demons
Right now, is priority
So until then
My purpose remains blurry

-The DementED

This is in response to the Daily Prompt:

Purpose

Hopeless, Not Romantic

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Credits reserved to whoever owns this photo

At first I thought you are what I need
A beautiful creature whose mind I could read
Yet as time went by I realized my fault
And so I wanted my emotions to halt

If we paired up, we wouldn’t have connected,
You were insane, but I was more demented,
I’m a wildfire, you were a flame
We burnt differently though we seemed the same

I almost spilled my mind and guts
Cleaning them up would have been nuts!
I would’ve played a dangerous game
You don’t even know me, only my name

Another thing I failed to consider,
You needed a prince not a bottomfeeder
All signs say I’m not what you need
I’m just as broken, you were wise to take heed

Everyone knows you deserve paradise,
Not be part of my awful demise
I guess it was clear, I’m just a tragedy,
So why bother listen to my heart’s soliloquy

Now there’s a lot of things left to be said,
Perhaps I would, but they’re better off dead
I know for sure, you could have saved me
But now I’ll learn to be content with misery

-The DementED
Note: My poems does not necessarily reflect my current state or feelings.

What? I’m being defensive? Well, deal with it reader. haha

A Date with the Dead

I have always wondered
If I could talk to the dead
Should I talk to the famous
Or to you instead?

I know you’re still breathing
And you still have a pulse
But are you really living,
when it’s everyone you repulse

Oh but I forgot,
I’m dead inside too,
I’m always alone
the same way as you

But unlike you,
I haven’t lost hope,
I don’t constantly choke
my neck with a rope

I have scars on my heart
You have more on your wrist
I have my palms open
But you have a closed fist

You barely even eat
You take pills just to slumber
And a love for yourself
you can’t even foster

But you see,
I just want to aid
I wish I could stop
your use of the blade

But I cant understand
cause you wont let me in
You throw my concerns
straight down to the bin

No I’m not saying
I know better than you,
But all I want
is a table for two

You pour your heart out
And I’ll spill my guts
We’ll tell all our tales
No matter how nuts

But since you already said,
that you’d rather be dead,
I’ll just keep on waiting
with anxiety and dread.

– The DementED

You might also wanna see a related poem: A Maiden’s Affliction, Hopeless, Not Romantic
Unconventional Love