Redemption

Your form which result gently to sky

what else can i do, besides abvenge you?

Until my tears dried up.

I watched it for the longest time

And the sorrow overflowing from the stigma which can't be erased

I swore that

I Would never forget itI'll flap my broken Wing

And erase it all some day

You will see

Until the last bell ringing the dirge stops

You told me to live as if you were to die tomorrow

Feel as if you were to be reborn now

Faces as if you were to live forever

Red tears traced by a trembling finger

I had nothing to lose, nothind truth

It crashes through the darl oblivion

The Last smile floats and disappears

And the warmth is all that's left

Your kind gentle words

Cannot heal me now

This body is only dedicated

To the figth going on eternally

Because everryone returns to the Sky some day

You'll never need to say goodbye

Make it up!

I'll Flap my broken wing

And erase it all some day

You will see

Until the last bell ringing the dirge stops

Your kind and gentle words

Cannot heal me now

This Body os only dedicated

To the fight going on eternally

Redemption...

Redemption...

Primer video que pongo, nada que ver con el blog, solo para "calarlo"

Spirits of the Dead

Spirits of the Dead

Edgar Allan poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.
The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.

How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
Μου κλέψατε τις λέξεις!

Ό,τι μου άνηκε το κομματιάσατε.

Τώρα γελάτε.

Μα το γέλιο μου είναι πιο δυνατό.

War...

White Dove

War is here again

Holding a flaming rain

Spreading hate and pain

And happiness in her prison

Does she remain.

Crowds die

Children cry

And birds silently fly.

People kill others

No matter if they are sisters and brothers

No regret do they feel

They just hate and kill.

Weapons do they keep

Violence is all they think.

Please let free the little white dove

The bird of peace and love.

Take flowers instead of guns.

Start singingInstead of weeping.

Please wake up

The little white dove

The bird of peace and love.

Interrupt its long sleep

And force it to sing

.

Don’t just make a wish

Upon a falling star.

Hold its light to your hand

And light up the dove’s cell.

Please people, don’t cry and yell

Don’t hate and kill

Your lives with harmony try to fill.

Stop the fight

And try to reach the light.

The little white dove

The bird of peace and love

Do go and release

Just to give a chance to peace.

Humor

Fifty sure-fire ways to detect paganism without having to resort to a dunking stool or wart-inspection.

1) Never puts any rubbish out on refuse-collection day. I mean, re-cycling and composting is fine, but you can take it too far.

2) You casually ask what phase the moon is in, and she tells you down to the exact number of days, hour and minute of rising, position on horizon, and current angle of declination.

3) All the stray cats in the neighbourhood tend to congregate in her garden (and use your own as their litter).

4) A screech owl has chosen the lamp-post outside her house as its favorite calling-post. That's just when it's getting warm at night and you like to sleep with the window open.

5) Doesn't cut down the weeds in her garden; in fact it looks more like she's cultivating them. Needless to say, you get the seeds wafting over onto your pristine lawn.6) Most of her clothes on the washing line are black.

7) The local kids talk in whispers as they go past her house, then start running at the last moment.

8) Nobody trick-or-treats her house; not after the incident when the kids' costumes were less scary than hers when she opened the door to them. (She was embracing the Crone that year no doubt!)

9) Footprints on the roof. And the trees in her flight-path have been pruned down. I swear it's true!

10) She can't even make a simple sandwich without adding fresh herbs to it. And don't ask her for a cup of tea unless you want something yellow coloured and smelling of flowers.

11) She hardly ever gets junk mail. You ask her what her secret is and she confides that she returns it to sender after writing something on in strange curly writing.

12) When you pop next door for a chat, the kettle is always already on.

13) The Jehovah's Witnesses never call (not anymore; not after the last time :-).

14) Keeps the local scented-candle shop solvent.

15) Has a pond full of frogs (and you haven't seen that bothersome double-glazing salesman around for a while).

16) She's always smiling, darn her!

17) She goes dressed as normal to a Hallowe'en fancy dress party; and wins first prize.

18) Her house always smells of incense.

19) Has named her four cats Hecate, Kali, Diana, and Moonbeam. (Or her rats Devon and Cornwall)

º20) Her bumper sticker reads "I brake for toads".

21) Frequently gets raided by the drug squad who confiscate large amounts of dried green leaves; they always return them with apologies after analysis.

22) At Christmas, it seems like half the garden has been moved into the house.

23) You sometimes hear the sound of singing and dancing through the wall. If you look out of the window, it is usually a full moon.

24) She was given a bodhram drum for her birthday. And she plays it at midnight in the fields. And she's got a blasted tamborine

.25) You discover that her realistic resin skull ornament in her living room, actually is real.

26) You catch her washing a crystal ball along with the dishes.

27) She wears a lot of silver jewelry, even when doing the gardening. And bat ear-rings for goodness-sake.

28) You knock on her door and she answers it naked except for a toweling robe. You apologize for disturbing her in the bath, but notice that her hair isn't wet

.29) Irritating tendency to hum a lot. What's she got to be so happy about, huh?

30) She has a tame robin that will eat from her hand in the garden. That can't be natural.

31) Never catches a cold, even though she walks barefoot most of the time. In the snow as well.

32) Doesn't kill spiders. Not even big hairy long-legged ones that suddenly appear from the waste-pipe whilst you're having a bath.

33) She listens to what you are saying like she really cares.

34) She has lots of female friends who come round every few months. When you ask what they get up to, she tells you that they just have cakes and ale and a good natter.

35) You catch her hugging a tree.

36) Her dinner-set is decorated with Celtic patterns.

37) She has a mail-order account with a semi-precious gem wholesaler.

38) You notice that the parish priest crosses himself whenever he walks past her house.

39) She never watches television. And she has shelves full of books with black spines and silver-lettered titles.

40) To your certain knowledge she has never set foot in the local church. In fact, you have heard rumours that she has been barred from it

.41) She makes jars of quince and mandrake relish for the Women's Institute coffee morning jumble sale.

42) You ask to borrow a pack of cards for an impromptu bridge evening, and there are 78 in the pack.

43) You have never known her to visit her GP.

44) When you talk with her, she maintains eye contact all the time.

45) Expectant mothers are forever visiting her. Also women who become expectant mothers a month after visiting her.

46) You ask her for suggestions for nice walks in the area, and they all go by way of stone circles and strange earth mounds.

47) She only buys organic. And you just bet that she's a vegetarian as well. (Well, maybe not stricly vegetarian....)

48) When you ask her about her vacation plans, she tells you she will be camping in a tee-pee in the Brecon Beacons.

49) There aren't any mirrors in her house. Or clocks.50) She tells you that she is coming out of the broom closet, joins Witches' Voice, and erects a stained-glass pentacle window in her front door . Ooo what a give-away!

Algo de Humor no caeria mal, ejeheheh

There's a place where worlds unfold.A place where the meek are bold.The truth is a distant cry;Men, women and children heedless of lie.

This place is a wasteland of horror.Those of us that live within it may refer to it as 'Mordor.'There are no ghosts, goblins, or creatures of malice.

Only those people known of The Balance.Through years of ruin and reconstruction,Each new leader brings upon us a new junction.
The innocent run and hide,Children of new cope or die.This is a fate that can be broken,One must step forth, the one known as The Spoken.Where he may be, no one can say;Can only hope and pray for, The Day.

Standing there looking into the sunset,Realizing how much of the world has passed.I walk and do not stop.

There's a destination that I know not of.The walk is long and quiet outside,But there is so much noise and clutter.Need to separate and walk alone.I need to be with myself.

The long walk is lonely sometimes.What can I say?The walk I must make.

The road is long and sometimes quite nice.Sometimes refreshing to just walk for miles.Being without troubles and being with nature.I lay my head and go to sleep,Where I go tomorrow will remain a mystery.

Sitting in the café sipping his coffee paper in front of him he watched people strollin, Thnkihn of himsfield.Those people incoming would catch his eye before he returned to his place. He Wondered himself.Staring through the dark tinted window a barren dry land of men on the roads and in cars, he acknowledged.People paid no attention passing him all day buying their coffees and snacks while he sat, hoping to himself.His cup slackened from wear of the hot liquid cooling, swirling light separated concoctions, as he mused to himself.A bee buzzing at the window from inside sitting then settling relentless, tired bur much to do. He Feared

Stopping in the café for coffee and a snack, aware of the dark figure in the seat closest to the window, she pitied.Door wafts shut a man steps in line for coffee drops a dollar on the table for the gray-hair man, whispering to himself.Worker from outside waves to the gray-hair man, each morning same response, he smiles and whistles to himself.

Alone he sits in awe and wonder, the people he sees, the weather winds that blow the leaves.Man is unchanging, relentless, ever pursuing fruits for life oblivious to lesser intricacies of a formidable world.

The Vampire

Despertarás...Nada más fácil que asomarse a la ventana, y oír a quienes han despertado, como tú, dejar que el barullo de lo normal vaya imponiendose... un beso... un reproche de tristeza por el zapato que no se encuentra, por la sed...
Inconsciente de todo poder, es decir, indefensa, decides seguir las pautas de la vida. Para qué detenerse en lo que haces o crees hacer, si vas como sonámbula, no obstante; y con acopio de buenas intenciones te dejas confundir en cada transeúnte, en cada frase que pronuncias o escuchas, en cada pensamiento que explota en tus neuronas, allá al fondo...
Importa menos aún que seas tú la que actúe o la actuada. Alguna tarde te dejas invadir y entonces es como borrar las líneas de una mano y el fado que alguien canta en el metro nos mece como una canción de cuna...
Avanzarás.
Sin embargo, entrar en este lecho es acostarte con los cadáveres de todas las que fuiste.
—Quiero no ser—suspiras... —y despertar mañana, y olvidar...Que sea largo el amor.. que sea largo el olvido...
Y te encierras con llave, porque la noche es corta. Y yo crezco en tu sueño como una mala yerba, como un regusto amargo, como una indignación.
Cuesta renunciar al poemaestrangularse en el silencio que te asaltaboca arriba en la noche y penetra todos los orificiosde lo real
Sería oscuridad acaso yo Pena.destello de lo pétreosequía en pozo oscuro...y permanente el guiñode tus abalorios baratostintineándote, muerte...

Darkest Night

Darkest Night

Darkest Night,
Evil cast
All light die fast
A song of sorrow and death,
Angels take their last breath
Shadows break out of their loneliness
Tears of misery drop to crimson lakes
The ethereal one awakes.
Frozen wisps of death surround her silken hair.
Your screams shall drawn to despair
Her ebony cloak
Flows over her ivory face
Her crimson lips slightly move apart,
And kiss the darkness streaming from beneath her.
Now the sacred gates are desecrated
Now a night of new beginning
A new life was created
Tonight
All evil shall rise
Beyond the skies
Darkness be send
The dark ones ascend

Children of the Earth

Drops of magick
Stones of power
Herbs of love and herbs of lust
Potions to heal and fires to seal

Fairies and angels
Shimmering muses and elven kings
Jewels of the earth
Awaiting for the sun’s rebirth

A thousand years have passed
A thousand years of love
A thousand years of trust
Casting spells and awakening the stars
Seeing only beauty
Where others see dust.

Seeing no good and no bad
For all good and all evil
All are but one
Children of the earth they all are
Darkness and light
Day and nightBlack and white
All are but one

Bueno por esta temporada pondre cosas relacionadas con la temporada y de vez en cuando algo obscuro,

salu2!!!!

The Forest of Lorien

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves had grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?


Bueno, estamos a primavera y quizá deberia poner algo relacionado a ello,
puse un lindo pensamiento del maestro Tolkien, disfrutenlo!!!

Darkness

Lord Byron

Darkness

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went -and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light;
And they did live by watchfires -and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings -the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those which dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch;
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire -but hour by hour
They fell and faded -and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash -and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them: some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth and howled; the wild birds shrieked,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless -they were slain for food;
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again; -a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought -and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails -men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assailed their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famished men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress -he died.
The crowd was famished by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage: they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects -saw, and shrieked, and died -
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless -
A lump of death -a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropped
They slept on the abyss without a surge -
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished! Darkness had no need
Of aid from them -She was the Universe!

Hallowe'en in a Suburb

Hallowe'en in a Suburb

HP Lovecraft

The steeples are white in the wild moonlight,
And the trees have a silver glare;
Past the chimneys high see the vampires fly,
And the harpies of upper air,
That flutter and laugh and stare.

For the village dead to the moon outspread
Never shone in the sunset's gleam,
But grew out of the deep that the dead years keep
Where the rivers of madness stream
Down the gulfs to a pit of dream.

A chill wind blows through the rows of sheaves
In the meadows that shimmer pale,
And comes to twine where the headstones shine
And the ghouls of the churchyard wail
For harvests that fly and fail.

Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change
That tore from the past its own
Can quicken this hour, when a spectral power
Spreads sleep o'er the cosmic throne,
And looses the vast unknown.

So here again stretch the vale and plain
That moons long-forgotten saw,
And the dead leap gay in the pallid ray,
Sprung out of the tomb's black maw
To shake all the world with awe.

And all that the morn shall greet forlorn,
The ugliness and the pest
Of rows where thick rise the stones and brick,
Shall some day be with the rest,
And brood with the shades unblest.

Then wild in the dark let the lemurs bark,
And the leprous spires ascend;
For new and old alike in the fold
Of horror and death are penned,
For the hounds of Time to rend.

Sweet Waters of Oblivion

A picture of you
Hidden and forgotten
Inside the dark caves and lost cloaks of sorrow
Of a closet in my room
Found by mistake
Two people and a child with a doll
Unstoppable tears fall
The picture returns to the gloom
Behind the unseen, but always felt sorrow
Of the closet in my room
None of us was aware of the approaching doom
A dreadful September
I chose not to remember
It’s like you’ve never been there
A stranger in my dreams
It’s so miserable and unfair
My lips have tasted the sweet waters of oblivion
Your dreams are drown to the fire
Of my sea-green eyes
I’ll never know your last desire
I tried to wake up, but how can the sun rise
When it’s already high
On the sky?
I’m not strong enough
To go out naked
And face the sun
I can’t open my eyes
And realize
That you are just a dream
And I’m already awake
You’re a mere illusion of my mind, so fake
That’s not how I’m supposed to remember you
But the pain of your memory
Exiles all the light of my existence
I’m not strong to face the reality
I can’t love a ghost
And you’re gone
I chose to forget
Not only that you left
But also that you were here once
Since I never had a chance to say goodbye
It seemed that you never left
Please forgive me
It tears my heart to millions of damaged pieces
The sunlight burns my soul
It seems that the truth I’ll always deny
You left without a goodbye
And I love you too much to remember
That tragic September

Pensamiento.....
La gota que se escapa de mi ojo fruncirá este odio desde el silencio buscando ese respiro ultimo, de un amoniaco eterno, siento una angustia desesperante es un regalo envuelto en normas, sociales, cada insípido murmullo de un montón de mentiras flota en carne putrefacta , en ese interior tan marchito, sobre el hedor, común, juntos se emplazan a huelga unos órganos humanos con la calma que arroje mi alma , al purgatorio esos ataúdes aguardando unas flores sin vida tantos gusanos, aves carroñeras esperando un cuerpo frió; mi mirada es nublada, carente de cualquier expresión....
Confundiendo tus colmillos con metales frunces ahora ser maldito, mis identidades al dolor provocado, cada vez en que renazco del excremento en suaves primaveras, al soslayo de un verano lo cambio por una búsqueda de imágenes donde hieren los ecos que retornan lentamente dejando, algunos lamentos en cartas, en poemas, que navegan sin así quererlo ese liquido aberrante, que esta acabando con el oxigeno del asfalto, del piso nauseabundo inerte, sin latidos, catador de mis desilusiones...
Abriendo los párpados para despertar de la muerte intoxicándome con somníferos solo así puedo saber que existe la luz, entonces cuando volveré a sentir mi cuerpo con el calor espiritual de la vida como concebiré las neuronas inertes en grados de pensamientos, si ni siquiera puedo hacer de la respiración una mezcolanza de contaminantes .....

The Life...

All that lives of legendry,
Beauty, magic, mystery,
Gentleness and purity,
Dwells in me.

I no mate, no kin, have known,
None may claim me as his own;
One is one, and all alone,
It must be.

Through their weariness and woe
Men have sometimes seen me go,
Felt a wind from Eden blow
Suddenly:
Though they hunt with spear and horn,
Knowing life cannot be borne
If they have no unicorn--
I am free.

Though they kill, and weep to see
Beauty's symbol ended be--
One is one and lives in me
To eternity.

Spirits of the Dead

Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.


Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.


The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.


Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.


The breeze, the breath of God, is still,
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token.
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

LIFE IS BUT A DREAM
Lewis Carroll

Boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July--

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear--

Long has paled that sunny sky;
Echoes fade and memories die;
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream--
Lingering in the golden gleam--
Life, what is it but a dream?

The Moon

The thirteen pagan moons


January Snow moon
February Death moon
March Awakening moon
April Grass moon
May Planting moon
June Rose moon
July Lighting moon
July/August First fruits moon
August/September Harvest moon
September/October Hunter or Blood moon
October/November Tree moon
November/December Long night moon
December/January Ice moon


Raven Wings

Obscure beauty, immortal might
Her heart black as night
She’s the night seductress
Raven wings fly her
Upon the darkest night
Exiled from the sky
Fallen from grace
And left to die
Blood falling down her face
Her lips have tasted the crimson wine of immortality
Her wings of melancholy are burned to dust
An endless hunt and immortal lust
Haunted by the light

A young man passes by, dressed in white
The moon noiselessly grasps for breath
A tale of lust, pain and death
Drunken whispers of desire
Silken touch, frozen fire
Weeping silence caressing his dark hair
Pain and ecstasy embrace
Screams lost in the shadows
Innocence crashed beneath her darken eyes
Her desire, his death
His blood, her salvation

The moon suffocated dies

And as the sun slowly appears
For one more time
In your dreams she disappears

...The Lord of All Dark Lords......
The One Who Has Dreamed for
Years Uncounted of Regaining its Form
......Darker than the Blackest Pitch
......Deeper than the Deepest Night
......One Who Shines Like Gold Upon the Sea of Chaos
......The Sea of Chaos......
The Source of All Chaos...

So that it dies, and yields up its life with its blood.
But this, too, happens for its good: For from its blood it wins immortal life, And then death has no more power over it. Its blood is the most precious Medicine upon earth, The same has not its like in the world.
For this blood drives away all disease
In the bodies of metals, Of men, and of beasts.
From it the Sages derive their science,
And through it they attain the Heavenly Gift...

Caminando por las obscuras calles,
acobijado por un cielo gris
Veo como todo se desaparece por los aires
Los aires frios de la muerte

Al poner mi vista enfrente
Veo a la gente de alegía sollosar
Y de sus cantos yo los eh de embidiar,
Ya que mi alma hiede a muerte

Tratando de sobrevivir en este mundo,
Vagando voy como lo hacia en inframundo,
Pues en ningún lugar he estado tan fuerte
Y tan vulnerable sin la preciada muerte.

Mi alma esta completamente vacia
Ya que mi cuerpo ah muerto
Y ahora vago sin rumbo en el desierto
Nunca eh estado en el cielo
y al infierno eh vuelto

La muerte se ha llevado mis humildes pensamientos
Con todo mi cuerpo y mis sentimientos
Ahora solo soy una sombra desterrada
que por la muerte se siente desesperada

Siempre eh querido saber
que se siente fallecer
en la espada de otro ser
sin poder gritar ni correr

La muerte demasiado lejos se encuentra,
Pues mi condena en este mundo a de ser eterna,
Provocando muerte, estrucción y desesperanza,
Maldición mía que así lo indica.

Ocultándome he estado por siglos,
Tratando de romper con este interminable ciclo,
Viendo a mis descendientes morir,
Mientras yo me lamento cansado de sufrir

La soledad me sigue ahora en esta caída,
Sin poder saber si moriré algún día,
Mientras tanto el presente me atormenta,
Haciéndome ver mi imagen muerta.

The Dark Angel

Lord Death

Death is my Lord
All I have
To him I give
In his black garden,
Far below the bright sky,
I live.
I paint roses black.
Whoever comes in here
Can never go back.

My trust I put in him.
Cold touch, eyes dim
Death shall lead me
He’s my lover
He is my lord
My future and my fate
I can’t be saved - it’s too late
The light is spent

I never believed in hope
I don’t believe in love
I am the dark one
Bound by reality
By death awaken
To a forsaken kingdom forcibly taken
And crowned as queen
Of a land that living eyes have never seen

There’s no black rose garden
There’s no moon in the sky
What is left to say
What is left to feel
All is born to die

Embrace the darkness
That forsaken falls above thee
Nothing else to say, nothing else to see
Words are worthless
Tears are useless
Death rules all
All he touches fall
Hear the night’s call
And surrender to the dark ones.
There is no light left in this bleeding world
Humanity is taking its last breath.
There’s no salvation, only death.

We are free to fly at night, where there is no sun to melt the wings of Icarus, to blind our sensitive eyes and fill our souls with the brilliant glare that only those who have died, who are going to Heaven, should rightfully see.
Though we are vampires, I have nothing against the idea of Heaven, personally. However, I have never found much that is sublime in the loud din of light, even before receiving the Dark Gift which opened my eyes and heart to who I truly am.
I have seen too much darkness hidden by the light. The insincere smile might be missed if one admires her shade of lipstick instead. The fact that he doesn't meet your stare might be overlooked if his countenance is handsome, and the color of those turned-away eyes are like blue ocean. The ocean conceals both dolphins and sharks, native intelligence and teeth that bite -- bite with far greater ferocity than I've seen before -- including my kindred.
Some say shadows hide evil and light does not. I say I can gaze into the shadows as long as I want, not going blind, and what happens to exist there becomes clear to me, be it "good" or "evil".
Thus Evangeline and I fly amongst stars, sometimes being blessed with the silver perfection of the complete moon. Other times, a silver scythe hangs there, as if waiting to cut down the celestial crop of the heavens. It never does, however: the stars can see it, which they could not in the full glare of day, when the white light would blend with the heavenly weapon and conceal it until it is too late. . .
Remember, we always see the red eyes of the foe after dark.

The World of Silence, the World of Shadows....The World of Darkness


En la eterna obscuridad,
Viven almas llenas de odio y de maldad,
mentes insepidas y almas desgarradas,
bien venidos a mi blog....

Este mundo fue creado solo para los mortales,
Sin tener espacio para los inmortales,
Guardándoles rencor y castigándolos,
Por largos tiempos sin poder partir dejarlos....

In the Shades...

"Mientras la oscura noche se acerca,
Las punzadas de mi pasado abren heridas profundas,
Al tiempo que mi futuro derrama sangre,
Y mi pasado cambia para ser un tiempo negro...."

En mi inmunda cueva, sentado en el rincón de mi cama...
solo pienso, ¿Acaso vale la pena Vivir?

¿Sufrir tanto sin ganar algo a cambio?
¿Perecer y no descanzar en paz?...
Cada ser que vive, que camina y respira,

no importa que tan envenenado este....

tiene una razón para vivir, sin importar

cual sea esa dicha razón, tenemos un merito en la vida,

si es el de sufrir,
valdra la pena fallecer por una causa,

de algo que uno se sentira consolado y estáran orgullosos

aquellos angeles que intentaron guiarte y fracasarón....