In Your Blood

There is a fracture in contemporary thought between tension and fragility between voracity and fear of an imminent explosion. Syndrome of over-nourishment Perception of a latent loss Bipolarity Innovation in permanent contrast with the past. Modern artists, like perverted creatures drowned in plastic, explore encoded forms of expression inverting the logical sequence of musical score.

After foggy and funereal days In a mixture of sadness and devotion, memory and mental escape I take back my life A bit confused, but more conscious of my way. I wish warm affections True emotions Absence of artifice. I want to rock myself on my arts Enjoying the new time But I don't forget where I come from and people who loved me.

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 25, 2025

Thirst for life is delightful Thirst for fame reawakens Don't tell me to stop thinking, Don't force me to stop acting, Don't make me stop speaking... You can't change me I would never explain it again. You don't know me You can't understand my words You perceive a parallel idea of me Like a coral generated by gemmation. You don't see my heart is transparent. You don't perceive I'm totally open You don't feel my willingness You don’t trust my clearness You misunderstand my essence. Anagrammatize my psychotic dreams And you will find out... find out myself.

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 25, 2025

"Along the street death walks... crowned Crowned with withered orange flowers, And it sings, sings, a song With its white guitar." ...And it sings, sings... Would you mind if I die? I write about sensations, moods and apparitions, while people give parties to cover the silence. There is no sense in feeling remorse for a thing you could not control. And death sings, sings... Would you mind if I die? What did you want when you continued to ask? My energies must be direct to an act. I continually research a sure channel to address my emotive contradictions. I yearn they have a positive origin Intolerant towards imperfection. I practise a secret auto-therapy, I practise... a personal and secret auto-therapy, against the shame of publicly showing our own signs. (memento audere semper)

Submitted by Finntroll — Apr 25, 2025

May this poetry remain in your heart May these notes inebriate your senses This could be the last chance to light your fire Before time turn your mind to black Take a decision about your future Dare use your invention Gather up your experiences Before your energy weaken to black Shout your ideas Before your voice vanish into black Let your love be released Before the last shine fade to black Shout your, your ideas Before oblivion suffocate your breath Let your love be released Before the last shine fade to black May this poetry remain in your heart May these notes inebriate your senses This is a gift for you all Do not forget to accept it before laying in black laying...

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 25, 2025

"Queen Of Forgotten" I whispered legends, I outlined myths of long gone... epochs. I wove fairytales In people's hearts, I am the queen of all You have forgotten. I continually come From every corner of the world, My journey crosses Through countries, population, seasons. I whispered legends, I outlined myths of long gone... epochs! I wove fairytales In people's hearts, I am the queen of all You have forgotten. I continually come From every corner of the world, My journey crosses Through countries, population, seasons. For me there is no sun that sets, There is no moon that rises, The sundial has no shadows. I live in thoughts... [For me there is no sun that sets, There is no moon that rises, The sundial has no shadows, I live in thoughts...!] [For me there is no sun that sets, There is no moon that rises, The sundial has no shadows, I live in thoughts...!] [Carried by the breeze, In the colours of light I live in fantasies of mankind, Carried by the breeze, In the colours of light I live in fantasies of mankind.] And I'm in the hope of memories With me I bring the symbols of tradition, The amulets of cultures, The inheritance of history. I move with the rhythm of ancient dances And songs no longer having notes Return to life through my lips, Here are my dreams... Written for you on the diary Of endless wandering ...Here are my dreams.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 25, 2025

No time to be religious No space for individual research. No time to be religious Disclose your cervical case And see enlightened reality is more obscure than a solar eclipse. Don't barricade yourself in your cocoon of selfishness. Come out from your comfortable crypt, Come out from your crypt from your precious temple, from your private ritual room. Exorcism Don't barricade yourself in your cocoon of selfishness. Come out from your comfortable crypt, from your precious temple, from your private ritual room, perfumed with rare spiritual oils. Keep control of your blood, be conscious of your fragile consistence and realize others' presence is stronger than your fear... Let your conscience overcome the boundaries of convention, And give your mind a rest on this absurd state of entropy. Contaminated by the vulgar dirt, infected by the morbid plague. Let your individual prayer become a collective exorcism to chaos. Open your gangrenous eyes and see terrible terror everywhere.

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025

Earth, warmth, death. Time wasted in building inconsistent hypothesis waiting for all is adjusted trying to justify the difference. They are asking me to act without being. Mood sensitive to variations, To air and fire's vibrations. Keep your honour and will unshakable Direct your thought to powerful stars, towards imposing aims, towards great concrete spheres. Why do things happen? Why is it always so difficult? Why is it always so complicated? Perpendicular presences undermine my concentration, Disturb, interfere, Generate hysteria and misunderstanding. Ironical... my regret is my source of energy. I feel impulse to proceed I feel impulse to be. Clouds, clouds, but branches are still dressed with leaves And for me it is still time of Spring Undisputed. Clouds...

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 25, 2025

At the foot of the high mountain There's a land where you can speak with your mind. Along the streets a multitude of temples, consecrated to grotesque idols, burn incenses to celebrate the time of forgiveness. Creatures living in this place can teach you how to read dreams. Rivers flowing through this ground carry the purity of silver. Androgynous beings card an innumerable variety of precious silks, used to dry tears of joy. I can perceive the majestic presence of the bull-man, who reigned here for centuries, before the apes came, before the apes came. He was adored by legions of half-fish beings, later absorbed by the sea bed and sunk into the sweet wool. Now he's sleeping forever in the red house, near the magnificent stream. The gong rings to remind the interrupted rhythm of his noble breathing. The gong rings to remind the interrupted rhythm of his breathing.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 25, 2025

Feel the frequency Perceive your pulse Trust the ideology To capture the ancient secret of life. I'm looking for the antidote to myself I'm working for my heart's freedom To rid myself of the other side of me. To rid myself of this virtual escape from tragedy Hypochondriac creature Disturbed by his memory One single disease to cure But you think of the rest. It's not as tragic as you believe Just free your mind of fears, life is pulsing. Just feel its frequency. Life is pulsing, just feel it. Just feel the frequency of this virtual escape from tragedy.

Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 25, 2025

I love people who make things I love conversations. I saw people inside a wrapping Like a protective veil for their soul. Atypical suggestions by a dead artist I recorded my image on a film still To seal my existing condition. I praised appearance and style while I was visiting exhibitions to fight boredom and depression, to satisfy my thirst of visual celebrations and of intellectual stimulations. Atypical suggestions by a dead artist I experienced the hallucination of panic Through sweat, breathing and suffocation. And I found again my direction When I spoke to a man who told me what I wanted to hear. I need to be loved once in a day. I need two days to re-enter from my mental disease. I need to be loved once in a day. Atypical suggestions by a dead artist

Submitted by Grave666 — Apr 25, 2025

... If you drive your glance too much in the abyss, The abyss penetrates yourself with its glance. Remember every fear hides a desire And that desire means tension... Faith is the enemy of knowledge, Religion produces placebo effects... The contact with the divine is always beneficial, Even if it is only in your head... Tension is vitality While perfection is death... Desire means tension Religion produces placebo effects... Faith is the enemy of knowledge, Religion produces placebo effects, The contact with the divine is always beneficial, Even if it is only in your head...

Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 25, 2025