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khandedoe · 16 hours

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Film me in super8

so even if we don’t last

I can have that to look back on

I can’t let go

I won’t let go

Film me while I’m at your place

So even if we don’t last

I can have that to remember colors of your linen

I can’t let go

I won’t let go

Teach me how to control the bass

So I don’t forget how you sound when you play

The little things is all I ask to take from you

And maybe I might let go.

Lyrics from an unreleased song by khandedoe

#mine #florida #long hair #abandoned #countryside #poetry #phoenix #arizona #gothic poem #writers #write #poem #mother cain #ethel cain #southern #rural south #trees #deep south

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fatalforesight · 1 year

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something about gothic deaths… sickness that lasts for weeks and ends with blood stained sheets, days and days of being shut away from everyone that loves you. drowning (perhaps even by choice) in the waters you played in as a child. heartbreak so deep, so sudden, so chilling that it stops the blood flowing in your veins long enough to begin cardiac arrest. mysteriously found stabbed in a haystack. impaled on the spiral tower of a mansion you found on a foreign moor. hypothermia in the woods in the middle of winter, starvation in the streets of an English ghosttown, cut to death on the thorns of a hedge maze, struck down by a monster of your own making. idk. i just think they’re neat

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situationlately · 9 months

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Hunter's Poem from the Big City, Hunter Hancock

#Stretch and fade #noel miller #meatcanyon #Papa Meat #Hunter Hancock #poem #poetry #horror poetry #horror poem #love poem #love poetry #gothic poetry #gothic poem

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env0writes · 11 days

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NaPoWriMo Vol. 3, 4.15.24 “Stamps“

Let me pay the postman Who sends my s.w.a.k. away Let me pay with penance With pennants and reminders Remainders of my taxes Waxing moons and bent and broken spoons Let me pay the postman Who sends my parcel to partners With letters laced with love Doodles and daliance And not delays But in many many ways Let me pay the postman Who sends my love’s my love With scribbles and scrabbles Points both high and low With leaves and petals And victorious medals Please postman let me pay

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists! Photo by my friend Mika

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raniahlilithshahnaz · 5 months

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I’ve always felt foreign to my own face.

- Raniah-Lilith Shahnaz, (11/12/2023 journal excerpt)

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g0thiclygh0ulish-diaries · 1 month

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Wanting for a Sprit

Ghastly laughs echo from a spirit-revived

Through a grating city,

A voice of velvet flows like rain

Leather-clad passion wrapped in pain

Knowing Cheshire grin

There is colourful chaos behind his eyes.

Black ringlets soaked in blood washed out from the downpour

Drip down like drops from the window I gaze from

Into the dark eerie streets he roams.

Wishing they were soaked from the sweat of my hand

Locked in a tight grip,

With the other smudging white into skin.

Wanting caught in my throat,

Yearning for a touch no mortal ever dared to yearn for before.

Can I call myself a woman? No woman wishes for a man

Turned ghost who vanishes into thin air

leaving criminals in his wake,

Bloodied bodies by his hand.

He hides behind black feathers-

This man, or ghost or ghoul,

Fills me with fantastic fantasies never felt by no woman before.

When the crow calls yowl late into the night,

Following screams of terror

Only revenge and protection have been burned off his agenda.

I hide from the dangers of our city behind walls and dumpster fires

For any chance to take as long a glance as possible

At the ghost returned to walk the Earth

a man I would follow into death

~Kaci O'Meara

#gothic #gothic horror #poetry #writing #creepy aesthetic #alternative #gothic poem #gothic poetry #writeblr #ghost #spirits #the crow 1994 #the crow #the crow movie #eric draven #brandon lee #gothic film

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hollyony666 · 2 months

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Euronymous- by me <333

(This poem is written from the point of view of Euronymous who is the lead guitarist of a Norwegian black metal band called Mayhem. A lot of people believed that the ideology of his band and who is qualified to even listen to their music was cult-like. So I give you a god, or in this case, satan complex that comes from the ego of Euronymous)

Raging sounds of satanic worship fueled my existence.

A difference within a difference was my promo.

Everyone’s demonic desires squelch

with plucks of my bloody fingers.

Six stringed instruments built my callus hands.

My birth name has no match

For what Satan has presented for me.

“Euronymous!”

they will scream.

I will peer from the deepest depths of my pedestal

And see worshipers praising,

Praising my new hellish name.

Death will be my friend

And he will guide my music to the deserved.

Fire within my soul

Will be used for the destruction

Of the humans of which I despise.

My rivals will fall.

Church bells will collapse upon them.

My true form will soar

All of the power from hell will be mine

Mayhem will be the word of the world

Euronymous will be the name of the new found god.

Dead.

Necrobutcher.

Manheim.

Hellhammer.

My cultists.

We shall share the unholy evig ære!

#metalhead #black metal #euronymous #dead #mayhem #necrobutcher #kjetil manheim #hellhammer #mayhem band #norway #norwegian #norweigan black metal #original poem #poetry #gothic poem #gothic poetry

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crypticpawpoems · 2 months

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The Darkness

No one knows it’s there

But everyone knows it exists.

It creeps, crawls, and slides

And is as silent as the wind.

The collection of all colors

It holds a place in all our hearts.

It has no origin, knows no end

And has no intention to stop.

It searches for a host

And then completely takes over.

No way to control, no way to prevent

A malicious and deadly killer.

No one knows it’s there

But everyone knows it exists.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — -

Follow on TikTok @crypticpaw.official

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bfmva7x · 1 year

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In the darkness I find my solace

Amidst the shadows, I seek my peace

In the moonlight, I am whole

In the abyss, I find release

My heart beats to a different tune

My soul sings to the darkest night

In the world of darkness, I find truth.

In the realm of shadows, I take flight.

I am a child of the night

Neither alive, nor dead

My existence is a question mark

Forever hanging over my head

But in my darkness, I find beauty

In my sorrow, I find strength

In my pain, I find purpose

And in my death, I find breath

For I am a goth, forever in black.

My heart beats to the rhythm of the night

And though I may wander in my darkness

I'll always find my light.

#gothic poetry #gothic #goth poetry #gothic poem #goth poem #romantic poem #my poetry #my poem #my art #poem #poetry #poems and quotes

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cosmicbirch8 · 6 months

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depressedwordvomit · 1 month

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The ghosts in my head seek forgiveness, crawl through the wrinkles in my brain on their knees, whip in hand- repenting. Never baptised, not even close. Peering out through my eyes, hungry. A hunger only the dead can feel, starved of life, hollow in the cheeks, they want a taste of salvation- don't we all?

They whisper amongst themselves, on occasion, sometimes they they pray, sometimes they sing. But, when it rains I let them out, Watch as they splash around in puddles, and waltz between the streetlights, savouring, remembering, grieving. Drunk on their desire to be real once more, and pained by the reality that it cannot be. They told me, once, how it feels: "like a fish on a hook, waiting to be gutted! But, you'll find out soon enough" I don't like how wide their eyes get, or how big they grin.

As they climb back into their graves, somewhere in the back of my skull, they tell me what they miss, tell me I will miss it one day, too, the breeze, the sunshine, the vitality. Make me promise to cherish every moment, every tedious second, "one day you'll be warning the same" they tell me. "I know" I say, I know

#my poem #my poetry #poem #poetry #dark poem #dark poetry #gothic poem #gothic poetry #religious poem

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khandedoe · 6 days

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I'm so in love with the trees in florida

They don't grow tall but they do spread wide

And the witches hair lays everywhere

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dimidesan · 6 months

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youtube

Hello my Spookies. today i have a special poem for you recited by me.

"Darkness" is Lord Byron's terrible tale of apocalypse and despair. In this narrative poem, a speaker dreams of a future in which the sun burns out and the whole world is left in darkness. Panicking, the survivors of this catastrophe gradually destroy all remaining life in their efforts to survive. Humanity, this poem suggests, is at the mercy of a vast and uncaring universe—and its own dark, selfish, violent impulses. This poem first appeared in Byron's 1816 collection The Prisoner of Chillon.

#gothic poetry #lord byron #darkness #poetry #old poetry #artist #voiceover #recitation #voice artist #gothic singer #gothic poem #gotico #gothic metal #singer #metalsinger #gothic literature #apocalypse #end of the world #Youtube

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september-poetry · 7 months

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what is my gender, asked death

my gender is red and black

ink drawings of eyes

a loverboy and a faggot and a boyfriend and a queer

im smudged eyeliner

black lipstick

leather trenchcoats and red hair

im tired and foreboding and angry

im rage and im kindness and im empathy

im a knife fight in the woods with your best friend

im the horror of existing served to you in the dark

im the bloodied hands of a heartfelt revenge

im the black ink dripping through your veins

im the end causing your extinction

and i am the beginning that swallows you whole

14 / 10 / 23

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env0writes · 23 days

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NaPoWriMo Vol. 3, 4.1.24 “A Sword-Of..."

By any rights there is a tip In which to puncture, pierce, or point To take direction, or which to lead Articulated as one would a joint From that tip, so sharp as to let blood drip Befalls a blade as sharp and shattered as battle let It serves its purpose in its own service bled To execute all direction, duty-pointed who have met From tip to blade to hefted-hafted handle Across from whom would so carefully guard Where upon I place my hand To carry this is not awfully hard With swift movement to darken nightlight’s candle This is not a heavy thing, yet burdensome to bear Pommeled steel hold all so tight; yet little goes as planned By my side with ease to wear From heft to hit a sword is held As civil shield or callous cutpurse; with it the world – be felled

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists! Photo by my friend Mika

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raniahlilithshahnaz · 6 months

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I'm just so tired of looking up at this lifeless ceiling and hearing all of you.

I'm so tired of your words, your questions.

How long must I pretend to have the answers?

When will the trees hide me in their burrow? When will the sky's tears reach down craving solace across my body once more?

For a woman that only seeks solitude in the arms of all that is honey-dewed fortress and winged-find,

the metal-walking caskets of people around me here seem determined on trying to force-feed me anything but.

Must I starve - if it means to avoid adapting to the tastes of poison?

Must I wither before the seasons let me leave?

I've never known winter to be people, to be a land, a time - until I woke up here.

- Raniah-Lilith Shahnaz (27/04/2022 journal excerpt)

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