We were angels once...

Does the company of seraphs, hold the same regret
As these walks with demons?
Does virtue wonder, the pleasures of vice
Like those of the fallen, envy souls intact?
We sell ourselves, never appreciative of the cost
Till all humanity in us, is spent.
I recall a boy with an impenetrable heart,
And vows of love, innocent.
When flesh was a cage, all senses useless
Incorruptable, save by love.
All purity is destroyed by the virtue
It fights to uphold.
All evil is redeemed, in a moment of mercy,
And in an instant, lives are transformed
As if an entire lifetime, never existed,
Such is justice. Such are the just.
Desptie myself, despite my inhumanity
I only desire, my mother does not remember me thus.
Let the rest be laid to waste, for in my heart lies the Lord
Slain in battle.
But let not the womb, that birthed something so pure
Be stained by the blood, of the man it became.

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 18/02/09

My Experiments with Vice: Rulebook

in the pursuit of vice, we must condition ourselves
for beauty, wealth, and the material
are all pre-requisites of physical nourishment,
currencies devoted to burning flesh, and starved senses.

such are truths that romantics choose to ignore,
seeking to elevate themselves, to shapelesness
without the limitations of senses, and in abandoning any one
embracing all.

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 17/02/09

My Experiments with Vice

Even in vice, be careful of what you touch
For we never desire what we have.
If you truly love something
Remain aloof, lest you ruin the few things of beauty.
Innocence was not meant for the corrupt,
Let not everything be, as ugly as our kind.

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 17/02/09

Conscience

Conscience. My Conscience,
Allow me to be, as I desire.
Leave me to taste,
Temptation, as She so asks.
Let me live, leave me to feel
For denial is a lie.
How does one exist,
Without the pleasure of pain?
Why see, if not to touch
Why touch, if not to feel,
Why thirst, if not to quench…
Surely oceans lie in waste, otherwise?
What is it to be, to be
If not to melt into each calling of passion?
Leave me be, you are useless
For when I loved with honour, I lost.
Time and again ravaged, on account of your counsel
I tied the sinews of my heart to another's.
Now stretched on life's wrack, stretched till the sinews gave way
Can he not rest, in your grave?
All morals be gone, for what good is morality
Without the man?

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 16/02/09

In His Image...

All being,
Is found in the life force of another.
For one to live,
Another must die.
It is the mercy of a benevolent Creator
In His Infinite Wisdom, that made all else finite.
Murder, was thus decreed,
Etched in the heavens themselves.
What crime do mere mortals then commit,
In reaching for the stars?

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 10/02/09

Love by the Candle in the Eye

In the candle of the eye
Doth love find its light.
A flickering flame
Inscribes upon warmth, meaning.
May a woman be my wick
The wax of passion to run evermore.

The formlessness of burning
Imprisoned by a glowing in the eye.
A red mist of wanting
Descends on each new dawn of the mind.
The shallow nature of love
Projects shape onto the spirit of life.

From the poet of the night
We learn to love,
By the candle of the eye
Under the crescent moon and starry nights.
But in irony of ironies
He himself be blind.

The sun doth burn
Bright, scorching by daylight
Feet charred on dusty roads
Travelled by harlots through time,
To be ravaged and yet love
Meaning lost to the folly of a fire’s light.

When the trees rustle
By the breeze of a lover’s sigh
Does the candle flicker
But never die
For love is far too shallow
To be extinguished by anything of life.

To the perfect human faculties
Does it present the grandest of lies,
To love what we know not
By the candle in the eye,
Loving but ourselves
Until we are blind.

by Haemophiliac...
...finished 29/08/06

When You are Old and Grey

The world exists, in shades of grey

You dance in colour, black roses decay.

For in their red, jealousy bleeds

Till their beauty be run, by your feet.

The oak tree so brown, now a weeping willow

In the autumn of envy, leaves no more green.

The sun is beside me, sickly and pale

The moon red with anger, to covet each day.

Suitors aplenty, robed and silver clad

The poets all silent, inspiration is dead.

Beauty is too easy, so they throw love your way

I wait in teary rains, till you are old and grey.

Though the world may break me,

I shall break me not.

I may lie ruined, clasping at your thoughts

But love keeps me noble, when nobility I am not.

They will dance with you, whilst you are supple

And kiss tender lips, soft to the touch.

When your taste is sweet, and your womb fertile

They will love you, as they ought.

I want not picture, nor your prose

But only a promise, a simple heart’s words.

To these I shall cling, until you are old

When they want you no more, I shall unfold.

When the wind is no more, than a summer’s breeze

A welcome respite, puts lovers at ease.

In the passion of youth, shall you be theirs

When beauty is all you posses, in innocent years.

I shall sit whilst gales howl, and drown out my heart’s screams

In a solitude of hope, wait and dream.

Heroes too man, valour too few

True love is to suffer, only martyrs knew.

To give without exception, when they lie with you

By candle-light windows, painful silhouettes of images blue.

Dark clouds descend, on the brightest of rays

I sit in puddles, through your summer days.

Losing to all, that are not me

Most painful of all, is but losing thee.

But now you are young, in heaven’s gardens you bloom

So they all come, to pick the petals from you.

I wait an eternity, for the day

When I shall have but your stem, when you are old and grey.

I have read great poems, picked out for you

But you care not for poetry, in your youth.

You lust for adventure, upon grand ships you sail

I have but the ocean’s waves, at which to stare.

By sea shores I pick shells, when for pearls you long

I cannot fight truth, I do not belong.

But with time, I have struck an accord

And for a fate, have sold a soul.

It matters not, for pride went before

When looking for love, be not clothed.

So I wait in agony, all alone

Breaking each day, but refusing to grow old.

Therefore see me not, let them all have their turns

Find yourself, if for yourself you yearn.

When the clock unwinds, its hands shall I clasp

Your beauty is gone, my hour at last.

With bare feet broken, shall I traverse your heart to claim

The little girl I once knew, when you are old and grey.

By Haemophiliac…

...finished 08/07/06 – 8 July 2006