Silently Broken

Sometimes I wish you’d rip my fuckin’ heart out.

Just slash it open, dismantle it

RELENTLESSLY!

That way, I wouldn’t die in each breath

When you speak her name

RELENTLESSLY.

    Photo Credit: He

© 2019: DNKL Silently Broken 

L'ultima Bruciatura - The Final Burn

La poesia 2 de 3...

L’ultima Bruciatura

Ci sono momenti, in cui può solo rimanere quiescente

Sotto il manto delle tenebre che mette a tacere la boscaglia.

In altri, il bocciolo arriva troppo presto per sbocciare

Spuntando frettolosamente per il pellegrinaggio solitario nel gelo della notte.

La sua voce è in attesa, gorgoglia come un ruscello che scorre tra rocce calcaree.

Una placida energia vitale che pulsa constantemente.

Anelando, scongela il ghiaccio che le ferma le labbra

e rompe le catene della tempesta invernale, ora paladina della riforma.

2015 DNKG L’ultima Bruciatura

April Koehler Photography

Traduzione in Inglese

The Final Burn

There are times, that all she can do is lie dormant

‘neath the carpeted bleakness that silences the thicket.

And other times the bud come too early to bloom

Rising hastily for her lone sojourn across frozen night.

Her voice lies in wait gurgling like the brook under the deep shale;

 A placid life force, which beats steadily.

In her hunger, she thaws the ice engulfing her lips

Burning the shackles of her winter storm,

Now a champion of reform.

Coronas and Chianti

Epochs of biting memories

erased in this solo embrace.

A primal pinch arouses, "Let's

take it beyond or shall we play?"

Unafraid to swim in the depths

to push beyond the former.

The obstructed window offers no view.

Exist HERE, in my Carnality.

The shades of your body

tell the story of our perverted love.

Us: Intertwined, your hands lost

in me, crowning me your jewel.

Scents long forgotten bitten awake

Linger and waft -taste my poison.

Transcend. And lips echo the sweet

lyrics that hug spaces I only know.

 © 2015 DNKG Coronas and Chianti

Le Stagioni della Crescita

Le Stagioni della Crescita 

Il bruciore dell’Inverno non cederà

Consumandomi l’anima

annidato tra le braccia infuocate

Portando alla luce

cicatrici dimenticate.

In Primavera, in pura essenza

Il loto maestoso incatenato in gabbia

Trattenuto da fili invisibili che portano

un’offerta sgradita,

e mani che violano

L’Estate vuota arresta la luce della speranza

E le rocce feriscono i piedi nudi

Le Promesse traghettate da ciarlatani

atrofizzano e abusano dei cuori ottimisti

Le ingombranti tonalità d’Autunno

pesano sulla mia tela

Ritratti sanguinosi di sogni,

spezzati e abbandonati

Ritorna quindi, Anima,

alla grotta gelida che disprezzi

e cova in silenzio

mentre si fortifica l’azione.

© 2015 DNKG Le Stagioni della Crescita

© 2009 White Spirit Wolf

The Seasons of Growth

Winter's burn will not yield 

Consuming within my Soul

Nestled in the fiery embers

Unearthing scars forgotten.

In Spring, in pure essence

The stately lotus bound in its cage

Tethered by invisible strands that lead

Unwelcome

and hands that violate

Empty summer cripples hope’s beacon

And rocks grind bare feet

The Promises charioted by charlatans

Atrophy and abuse our optimistic hearts

Cumbersome Autumnal hues 

weigh upon my cloth

Bloody portraits of dreams,

broken and abandoned

Return then, Soul,

to the icy cave that you despise

And smolder silently 

while action fortifies.

© 2015 DNKG The Seasons of Growth

Haiku Happenings

Beautiful Prisoner

Helplessly tethered

Prey - Jugular pinned - Pulse

Strike when set. Sink in!

© 2010 Aaranyak

© 2015 DNKG Beautiful Prisoner

Branded Innocence: Their Living Poetry

Hold her as if unafraid

and bring your hands

unobstructed into sight.

Threads of cascading Auburn

upon freckled skin

Dare to touch, Dare to delight

paralyzed to give in

A fit perfected

sculpted by Highest hands,

she rests willingly.

Overwrought slender digits

find supple haven seeding

Passion flaring, Ardor churning

heart and soul, yearning

Under glistening blanket
encapsulated by whistling light
slipping into shadow.
Through piercing Mahogany
and the glister of rime,
he quivers electrified
as touching desires stir hurriedly

Consummate proportions
skin silken smooth
dominion over the curves.
Exchanging buoyant force
upon dewy fixations crowned
Heavy breathing, Barely breathing
An idolatry set ablaze

Lines of Lust
inhaled depravity
Take my breath away.
This beauteous illusion
upon broken mantles poised,
Don't speak it, no utterance...

I'm in love with you!

© 2015 DNKG Branded Innocence

Let creation set you free: Poetry

Silence

Cut down, pushed down, thrown down

a spastic reaction, a commandeering confection of a bully 

Crashing. 

Down.

What is silence.

To be torturted by it. Nay but nay. 

What is silence. 

The gift of tongue forcibly ripped, defiled from the frame, literally silenced. 

What is silence. 

Lover castigating your soul's breath, making it trivial as a reminder of your "place."

What is silence.

But of water squelching on the fires of passion, on the passion of devotion on the devotion of IT.

What is silence. 

A self made prison of barbed-wire and chain linked fence, where the tulips grow outside the unlocked gate.

What is silence.

Is it found in the twisted torment of a childhood bound by scars, lashings, and pleasurably guilted sex scents?

What is silence.

Is it the empty "home" with blood stains strewn across the idyllic curtains 

and 

fallen photos staring into the loathsome Nothingness upon its walls?

What is silence.

Is it the noose around the neck of the body whose burden is too much to bear? 

What is silence.

What is silence?

Is it madness? Is it peace? Is it revolution? A time of contemplation? 

What is silence?

It is tethered by invisible strings that flow from Genius, to fingers, onto the page.

It is the feeling of rage, hate, love, kindness, peace, swelling tearfulness, & desire to be alone - in a single moment?

What is silence?

Is it in the mindful spaces between the pauses and screams? 

Between the sirens, flashing lights, the tireless infant and the paranoid lover incessantly battering?

It is found in the quiet, panted inhalation of the willful submersion.

It is found upon the bitten brim, invisible beside the flesh eliminated
It is found in the shards of the forsaken heart anesthetized through decades.
It is found in her Mind, that despicable self-disdain, to allow such subjugation. 

When did the Uninvited silence, Silence me.

Photo: Ellen Haroutunian

© 2014 Silence - DNKG