Original Poems

I am the World Where Darkness Revolves

noreply@blogger.com (caerberu) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 18:09:00 +0000

This is no pen,
but with it, I write on flesh.
On paper, it drips
the emptiness that is me--
filled only by a rhythm.
I am alone,
yet where I stand
I am the world
where darkness revolves.

Sins of an Erratic Heart

noreply@blogger.com (caerberu) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 18:04:00 +0000

Again, I write
on crumpled paper-skin.
Darker inks are deeper scars.

I'm fading
in and out of words,
fading, in
and out
like the sunsets
and a ceiling fan
and an empty bottle spinning.
So before these memories
swirl and fade,
let me write all
on crumpled paper-skin.

Three lines, with my name on it.
Three lines, with my hate on it.
Three lines, with all my tears,
and the last lines bearing love.

Heaven's Gates

noreply@blogger.com (caerberu) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 18:02:00 +0000

Erase the memories of a saint,
let him live a life
knowing only the coldness of turmoil.
If he murders people,
in this new life,
will the gates of heaven open?

But, erase the memories of a killer,
let him live a life in kindness and love,
if here, he saves lives
will the gates of heaven open?

Our Love

noreply@blogger.com (caerberu) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 18:01:00 +0000

We are the sky
and beyond,
the earth,
and beneath,
the waters
ever deep,
that if there was a way to measure love
then our love would be unmeasurable.