Category: death

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The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day but the darkness will always stay.

Aniket More

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An Ode To The Lord Of The Sea

Oh dear lord of the sea, only if I could write to thee of the great silence within, of turmoil pickings and grand distress.

Oh dear lord of the sea, only if I could write to thee of strange tides, the dark of the horizon where the sun collides while you swallow it viciously.

Oh dear lord of the sea, only if could write to thee of a starless sky, the scent of someone unknown in disguise and the sinking lull of thee.

Oh dear paramount of tyranny, only if you could speak to me whilst I build a temple of doom and malign as an ode to thee, my ever receding lord of the sea.

© Aniket More

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Overtime I’ve begun to wilt only to bloom again in death.

Aniket More

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Reality lies beneath the tenfolds of death, life is only a lie.

Aniket More

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Your Heart Is My Grave

I am dusk settling in you, an endless night begins.

I am teeth gnawing at you, your pale tender skin.

I am a cloudless sky, limitless yet empty.

I am a long lost cry, once your tear but now an absentee.

I am the end of the sea where we were supposed to meet.

I am a battle within myself slowly accepting defeat.

I am distance, growing between you and me.

I am a memory, fading and darkening when our hearts were dying and we differed to agree.

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Regular

Of Love And Posion

A nameless face sings to me of death and post agony.

Like flowers of needles and remorseless maidens my heart is breaking to this dark symphony.

Tired arms coldly wrap around me consoling me of lost eden.

Like her breath on my neck and her teeth through my skin, her love is purely heathen.

The breeze once hush now a raging storm lifting her orbs so somber.

Like a death wish in a smile spilling my blood to keep her mine, setting my sun in the sky so amber.

This ageless turmoil and her caliginous whispers, a beauty fouled as she fell from grace.

How must I survive love and death from this bewitching nameless face?

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God, am I only a subject of birth, maturation and decay?

Aniket More

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The Dead Need No Flowers

In the very beginning of what I’d call the end, I am brought alone to a ghastly place far away from my home.

I’m very aware of the consequences of my delirious nature and I also know that I’m yet another human subject to a grave stone.

In the very beginning of what I’d call hope, I have found despair in the corner of my heart where your hands couldn’t reach.

If I have to choose what I’d want to be today, I would choose to be numb and bring silence to my speech.

In the very beginning when I’d expect myself to be brave, I have found fear, the one that’s insisting to stay.

Amongst all odds, all macabre, all dread and all dark, my eyes beg to pray.

In the very beginning of when I thought I would live a little longer, I am dying at a slow pace, a morbid character at display.

And in my final moments when i’m expected to lie down in fabric and sleep, here I am lonely and flying away.

© Aniket More

Regular

Haunted

Of all things strange and dark, I beckon an unsightly form.

Of all things abysmal and fearful, I call upon the deformed.

And when the night is young, my ghost is born.

An abominable whisper leading a world so forlorn.

Of all things ghastly, I destroy what I like.

I reap what I sow, an end to the beginning when I thought I was infinite.

Although my part is done yet I’m left to yearn,

As a lifeless man, that my ghost cannot discern.

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