February 10, 2023 · 14:20
Shut up and stop causing trouble you said that fateful night
That night you locked me in a room, to succumb to a cruel plight
The mirrors they sucked me in
They took me away from you
I saw my reflection amongst the glass
And I knew it couldn’t be true
Pulled in by the mirrors lies
The mirrors pulled my heart
Tore me away from myself
Tore my soul apart
I am lost in limbo
Trapped by this loveless fate
In agony I yearn for you
But now it’s just too late
You’re not coming to save my soul
You’re not real at all
You are just a dream too me
A memory that is cruel
This poem is based on larger works that I will be finishing the final draft of by the end of this year. A long fantasy saga, I’ve worked on for nearly 25yrs.
February 10, 2023 · 13:33
Dressed in gold and bent for you
Another dressed in scarlet hues
They dance the dance of balance
One is a lie and one is true
Which one is the one for you?
Each dragon dances for their part
In order to ensnare your heart
Which one is the precious jewel?
Which one will be a lie and cruel?
Which one is the Queen you need?
Which one intends for treachery to proceed?
Which one can you trust at all?
Which one really caused the fall?
February 10, 2023 · 11:15
“n. a feeling of resonant connection with an author or artist you’ll never meet, who may have lived centuries ago and thousands of miles away but can still get inside your head and leave behind morsels of their experience, like the little piles of stones left by hikers that mark a hidden path through unfamiliar territory.”
A beautiful notion I’m sure, it is a new word I learned through an acquaintance on Twitter the day before I left the site for good.
It’s interesting and inspiring to think that some artists and authors have the skill to be read and noted centuries down the line like this, but it seems only a small margin get the opportunity to have that effect on the world and we will never know if we will be one of those people, for life is cruel and short like that.
Some people are very fortunate in that they could predict they’d be like that someday, because they have been made a big thing of before they die – but most teeter on usually without the vain slither of hope that it will ever be them.
Some, who experience this kind of fame during life, often remain in denial of their talent and so they don’t get to enjoy it whilst they can.
I have experienced moledro with a couple of authors who aren’t widely known or popular – I found their books through Goodreads giveaways before they closed them off to the UK and I found them on kindle really cheap – attempts at vanity publishing, I presumed because they gave up trying traditional publishers after many years of failure.
Here’s one that I can remember Alex Weinle, his book The Decapaphiliac: or love in the time of cappuccinos, it is an anthology of fantasy stories and in my opinion he is very similar to Neil Gaiman, though more macabre.
There are many others that have never been traditionally published where their stories have gripped my imagination so much so, that I still cannot believe why they are not huge household names by now?
An amazing short story I read in a magazine once by an author I can’t remember the name of – where an angel was attacked by a demon on Earth and she had her wings ripped off her and she was found by a mortal man who took her in and had a relationship with her – suffering from depression as she pretends to be a troubled mortal. Eventually her stepdaughter found her wings in the closet and the story had ended and I thirsted for more. Why was it so short, why wasn’t this writer known?
Moledro, do you have an infatuation with an author? Are they still alive? Are they traditionally published yet? Let me know in the comments below about any gems you have found and let’s help these people build their confidence as a writer and get them to try again shall we?
Thanks for reading!
Filed under Articles
Tagged as Amazon, angel, anthology, artist, author, confidence, demon, depression, fame, fantasy, goodreads, horror, Kindle, life, moledro, mortal, publishing, talent, vanity publishing, writer
February 10, 2023 · 01:33
The Leviathan is my brother
We are so deep and dark
The light will weep forever
With our sordid larks
As we devour all the light
All the happiness will decay
We will take revenge for our fallen cousins
There are angels to slay
War is upon us
This is the time for our cruel exhibit
Samael walks on a path of wrath
Taking them down one by one
Angered by their betrayal
Angered by the sun
Our wings are black
As is our hearts
Together we stand
For liberty and art
For freedom is our name
And lust is our desire
Punishment our game
Towards the wrong Messiah
We stand together, straight and tall
Because we know, its darkness that rules!
And from this night all will dwell
Writhing in the flames of Hell!
Filed under poetry
Tagged as art, brothers, cruel, dark, darkness, demon, fallen, forever, hell, Leviathan, liberty, light, poetry, revenge, Samael, sun, war, wrath
February 10, 2023 · 00:30
Rigid, those are my thoughts tonight; Rigid and taut through depression and desperation
No matter how hard I try to sit myself down tonight and ignore what’s going on in my heart and mind on a base emotional level, I still can’t help but be dragged down by a numbed mind.
I have written four poems tonight, all destined for the deletion pile, though I am trying to be more merciful with my craft and lock them away in a file on my laptop called “wasted”, as it was wasted time.
Wasted one, wasted two, wasted three, and wasted four, until I felt that tonight I am not in my poetic mojo at all and gave up.
I am certainly in a creative mind-set, but not really focused for Project AD, that’s a children’s comedy horror and I feel more like writing something along the lines of Mr Ted or The Gargoyles Heart.
Oftentimes when I have days or nights like these, I tend not to write anything, not even towards my blog – but I have decided to change.
I have decided to share these times with you all, because these are the times when I can get really down to the heart of the matter – become creative, it’s a strange place to be.
Depressed and apathetic in everything but the written word, depending however what that written word is going to be at the time and whether or not it matches what’s going on inside of you.
A few years ago I used to write snippets, where they were more or less like practise pieces and I would just write the first thing that came into my mind and I would post it. I got out of the habit of that and it really should be revived again.
This is the start of that.
Thanks for reading…
Filed under About my work
Tagged as comedy, creative, depression, horror, mental health, mind, poems, projects, rigid, wasted, words, write, writing