Raziel X
Member
Well, the genesis of my stuff wasnt as simple... it pretty much began as an irregularly-rhymed, numetal inspired poetry. Then I remember I had like half a year time when I didnt write anything, and then the machine started and never really stopped
The change after that "short" break were significant though, my poems were literally huge in extent, lines long as hell. While the early stuff was more in the face, later it got frigid cold, very dark and gloomy stuff, with sparkles of hope spread throughout. I actually finished a book, and titled it Death makes an artist... Took me 7yrs to finish it (almost) and it has 7chapters. First two are early stuff. Third is where it started to look huge. Fourth chapter has my longest lines to date, as far as I remember, and is a lot personal too, deals with a lot of issues from my past. Fifth one is the last one finished, that one is somewhere between the fantasy outfit of a lot of stuff and personal level. Sixth is maybe most experimental one. Seventh is a natural conclusion, with some hints of the future stuff in it here and there, with my flagship cycle "Dark master within..." (title taken from In the presence of my enemies pt.2 by Dream Theater, though the cycle itself doesnt have much in common with it as for theme).
So yea, in the first book, stuff is personal, but the fantasy/dark veil hides it well, it is a lot about rich and dense atmosphere, the language contributes to it a lot. Worked on that one 2002-2009 (january).
Started working on the stuff for second book in January 2009, but officially I proclaimed it a book in works only in March 2009, it was then when it got its title "Legacy of the snake...". This one is a lot more personal, sharp, a lot more aggressive and flesh-cutting. While the first one was more about trying to get on feet, heads up and standing own ground, plus a lot of inner clean-up, this one brings into the light a lot of filth, blood, pus (in metaphorical sense of word)... In second book I almost completely rely on 6line ababcc strophes, as they make it comfy to write a lot of new stuff effectively
Feel free to check out my stuff, and here is a recent one, like maybe two days old, exclusively in here:
"Wicked upon a star...
My sorrow, oh gloom, why do yee offer me blanket
again, weaved of her eyes, hair, images and
words, always resounding with her heart's beat,
slowing down the count of the days, then
opening the stream, with a pinch of salt
into wound-breathen pumping soul.
My sidewalk is paved with disappointments
and small victories that get lost
under hot black pitch anyways, you my only ardent
triumph, a fire amidst outcast's winter and ghost,
the one left from them all those
who promised to accompany me, help me arise from yet another comatose.
At least one infection-bed still perdures
and keeps on polluting once cleansed areas with scenes
of fresh disease and pus, each time beyond former measures,
hold my weakened carcass walking till I locate by any means
this cancerous source, share the mystery even though
no one knows it yet, not even myself, as much as I am pieced and torn.
Regular paper autopsy, head blown into a star-shaped flower,
petals sounding oozy as vials of my body slip
down, and mix and steam, stew's stench more poignant each hour
that passes, to find the origin of its taste I need a dip
of my own... my hope, oh cure,
after this disgusting bath let clean my soul, to celebrate our love pure."
Btw if you have any questions about my poetry, feel free to ask them either in here or directly via my Windows Live Messenger
The change after that "short" break were significant though, my poems were literally huge in extent, lines long as hell. While the early stuff was more in the face, later it got frigid cold, very dark and gloomy stuff, with sparkles of hope spread throughout. I actually finished a book, and titled it Death makes an artist... Took me 7yrs to finish it (almost) and it has 7chapters. First two are early stuff. Third is where it started to look huge. Fourth chapter has my longest lines to date, as far as I remember, and is a lot personal too, deals with a lot of issues from my past. Fifth one is the last one finished, that one is somewhere between the fantasy outfit of a lot of stuff and personal level. Sixth is maybe most experimental one. Seventh is a natural conclusion, with some hints of the future stuff in it here and there, with my flagship cycle "Dark master within..." (title taken from In the presence of my enemies pt.2 by Dream Theater, though the cycle itself doesnt have much in common with it as for theme).
So yea, in the first book, stuff is personal, but the fantasy/dark veil hides it well, it is a lot about rich and dense atmosphere, the language contributes to it a lot. Worked on that one 2002-2009 (january).
Started working on the stuff for second book in January 2009, but officially I proclaimed it a book in works only in March 2009, it was then when it got its title "Legacy of the snake...". This one is a lot more personal, sharp, a lot more aggressive and flesh-cutting. While the first one was more about trying to get on feet, heads up and standing own ground, plus a lot of inner clean-up, this one brings into the light a lot of filth, blood, pus (in metaphorical sense of word)... In second book I almost completely rely on 6line ababcc strophes, as they make it comfy to write a lot of new stuff effectively
Feel free to check out my stuff, and here is a recent one, like maybe two days old, exclusively in here:
"Wicked upon a star...
My sorrow, oh gloom, why do yee offer me blanket
again, weaved of her eyes, hair, images and
words, always resounding with her heart's beat,
slowing down the count of the days, then
opening the stream, with a pinch of salt
into wound-breathen pumping soul.
My sidewalk is paved with disappointments
and small victories that get lost
under hot black pitch anyways, you my only ardent
triumph, a fire amidst outcast's winter and ghost,
the one left from them all those
who promised to accompany me, help me arise from yet another comatose.
At least one infection-bed still perdures
and keeps on polluting once cleansed areas with scenes
of fresh disease and pus, each time beyond former measures,
hold my weakened carcass walking till I locate by any means
this cancerous source, share the mystery even though
no one knows it yet, not even myself, as much as I am pieced and torn.
Regular paper autopsy, head blown into a star-shaped flower,
petals sounding oozy as vials of my body slip
down, and mix and steam, stew's stench more poignant each hour
that passes, to find the origin of its taste I need a dip
of my own... my hope, oh cure,
after this disgusting bath let clean my soul, to celebrate our love pure."
Btw if you have any questions about my poetry, feel free to ask them either in here or directly via my Windows Live Messenger