Alchemy Never Goes Unpunished

by RussianRendezvous   Jul 4, 2008


The room is shrinking.
Four walls, rapidly closing in on a barely human victim,
An animal with just enough will-power to break every mirror it sees.
"This isn't right, this isn't wrong enough."
A perfectly harsh and painful existence going to waste.
Violently lament that all hope and desire for aesthetic are lost.
Logic replaces romance and fantasy.
"Rub me raw; create a callus on this heart."
Mounting relization in every choked back gasp.
They will not feel anything beyond conventional grief.
These kinds of things produce nothing more than x amount of tears.
"She might not cry at all."

Love cannot be forced golden!

The art in this will be overlooked
Notes roll from shaking fingers, crumbled and illedgible.
"Just like me..."
Skin pales, pulse weakening to a sad, soft percussion.
The time for question has long past.
But coherent thoughts are relentless and cruel.
"Do I have more than I know, but less than I can bear?"
The warmth of a human body evaporates into the air.
An iron-tinged aura of despondency.
Faith, prayers and hope are all absent.
"Let purely inevitable cross my chest..."
Because love cannot be forced golden...

*Copyright (c) 2008, B. Lucas

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Latest Comments

  • 13 years ago

    by Ignoris

    Nice work, the complexity of words create extreme imagery in my mind...I liked it!
    Thanks for the comment on 'Sand'.
    Stay real, chin up, and take care.
    Eleni

  • 13 years ago

    by adroit

    Great poem. Its so dark and full of pain. Excellent writing. Honest Luck

    Sarah

  • 13 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Wow, this is an absolutely awesome piece, I mean breath-taking.

    The room is shrinking.
    Four walls, rapidly closing in on a barely human victim,
    An animal with just enough will-power to break every mirror it sees.
    ^ A great introduction to a broken person, whoes dispair has internalised. He destroys any reflection that reminds him of the person he loathes the most.

    "This isn't right, this isn't wrong enough."
    A perfectly harsh and painful existence going to waste.
    Violently lament that all hope and desire for aesthetic are lost.
    ^I maybe wrong, but are you suggesting that such rawness and pain could be used for evil deeds in the big wide world, but instead they are wasted in this dark room of solitude? In any case great imagery!!

    Logic replaces romance and fantasy.
    "Rub me raw; create a callus on this heart."
    Mounting relization in every choked back gasp.
    ^Realisation has dawned and all hope for any return to happiness has been crushed. This rawness vividly described above, callus' rubbed into a raw heart.

    They will not feel anything beyond conventional grief.
    These kinds of things produce nothing more than x amount of tears.
    "She might not cry at all."
    ^ Wow again, presuming that her tears, her pain in only normal, not the devils curse that is inflicted upon this person.

    Love cannot be forced golden!
    ^ This line summarises the whole piece and so it is aptly place in the middle, a focal point, if you like.

    The art in this will be overlooked
    Notes roll from shaking fingers, crumbled and illedgible.
    "Just like me..."
    ^I can see this now, hours spent trying to convey into words the tormented pain. The paper which has been screwed up and cried upon falls out of exhausted fingers. The paper, the state of it, resembling a broken soul.

    Skin pales, pulse weakening to a sad, soft percussion.
    The time for question has long past.
    But coherent thoughts are relentless and cruel.
    ^ Using a musical reference really punches this dispairing emotion home. There is no fortune, no madness to mess with the mind which would actually offer some release from the all to clear memories, which now eat away at raw nerves.

    "Do I have more than I know, but less than I can bear?"
    The warmth of a human body evaporates into the air.
    ^This is a nice touch, a rhyming couplet. Ignorance is bliss, but in this case love has exsisted and its death is upon you!

    An iron-tinged aura of despondency.
    Faith, prayers and hope are all absent.
    "Let purely inevitable cross my chest..."
    Because love cannot be forced golden...
    ^This concludes this heart wrenching piece perfectly. It hammers home the message of complete hopelessness and reminds the reader that Love cannot be forced, it has to be free to sing out its wonder. Not every love can forfill itself.

    A wondeful poem which is going straight into my favourite section.

    Well done

    Michael

  • 13 years ago

    by Mr. Darcy

    Wow, this is an absolutely awesome piece, I mean breath-taking.

    The room is shrinking.
    Four walls, rapidly closing in on a barely human victim,
    An animal with just enough will-power to break every mirror it sees.
    ^ A great introduction to a broken person, whoes dispair has internalised. He destroys any reflection that reminds him of the person he loathes the most.

    "This isn't right, this isn't wrong enough."
    A perfectly harsh and painful existence going to waste.
    Violently lament that all hope and desire for aesthetic are lost.
    ^I maybe wrong, but are you suggesting that such rawness and pain could be used for evil deeds in the big wide world, but instead they are wasted in this dark room of solitude? In any case great imagery!!

    Logic replaces romance and fantasy.
    "Rub me raw; create a callus on this heart."
    Mounting relization in every choked back gasp.
    ^Realisation has dawned and all hope for any return to happiness has been crushed. This rawness vividly described above, callus' rubbed into a raw heart.

    They will not feel anything beyond conventional grief.
    These kinds of things produce nothing more than x amount of tears.
    "She might not cry at all."
    ^ Wow again, presuming that her tears, her pain in only normal, not the devils curse that is inflicted upon this person.

    Love cannot be forced golden!
    ^ This line summarises the whole piece and so it is aptly place in the middle, a focal point, if you like.

    The art in this will be overlooked
    Notes roll from shaking fingers, crumbled and illedgible.
    "Just like me..."
    ^I can see this now, hours spent trying to convey into words the tormented pain. The paper which has been screwed up and cried upon falls out of exhausted fingers. The paper, the state of it, resembling a broken soul.

    Skin pales, pulse weakening to a sad, soft percussion.
    The time for question has long past.
    But coherent thoughts are relentless and cruel.
    ^ Using a musical reference really punches this dispairing emotion home. There is no fortune, no madness to mess with the mind which would actually offer some release from the all to clear memories, which now eat away at raw nerves.

    "Do I have more than I know, but less than I can bear?"
    The warmth of a human body evaporates into the air.
    ^This is a nice touch, a rhyming couplet. Ignorance is bliss, but in this case love has exsisted and its death is upon you!

    An iron-tinged aura of despondency.
    Faith, prayers and hope are all absent.
    "Let purely inevitable cross my chest..."
    Because love cannot be forced golden...
    ^This concludes this heart wrenching piece perfectly. It hammers home the message of complete hopelessness and reminds the reader that Love cannot be forced, it has to be free to sing out its wonder. Not every love can forfill itself.

    A wondeful poem which is going straight into my favourite section.

    Well done

    Michael