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peterdawes — The Devil's Rebel Angel
by-nc-nd
Published: 2008-03-24 22:03:51 +0000 UTC; Views: 672; Favourites: 4; Downloads: 2
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Description
did heaven give its permissiontentative, with eyebrow raised
for you to descend with promises
extended leave of absence
from the clouds that held you captive
to somehow color the
dull, dreary, midnight sky
of the damned
singing songs of sweet salvation
into accursed ears
parting seas of hate
walking to the other shore
to find someone to love
nights filled with decadence
worshiping the god of self
upon the altar of indulgence
angels do not talk to demons, dear
they do not fraternize with the enemy
much less show them
another side to their psyches
they do not kiss lips
designed to kill
or stir a heartbeat
inside the dead
i thought i'd tasted
the best life had to offer
who needs the daylight
with all its wicked spells
all its technicolor phoniness
its picture frame plastic reality
when the visceral experience of
warm wine, crimson red
awaits the palate of the killer
when the world is a prize
waiting to be claimed
by strong hands
and stubborn wills
however, i'd been shown
a whole new reality
through those emerald eyes of yours
something worth smiling about
dreams woven from ashes
blessings painted from sins
the innocence of children
with peals of laughter breaking up
the melancholy rhythm of dying saints
colors i never knew existed
emotions i thought i'd surrendered
the moment i exchanged one life
for another life entirely
that i can see the stars
in the sky today, unencumbered
is due to an angel's kiss
the sacrifice of the rebel
who descended onto mortal ground
to show favor upon one tethered to
the unending sands of time
that i know that love
can affect even the evilest of men
dizzy, dreamy, disenchanted
dazed, delirious, demoralized
knocked away from senses; reason
destined to harm everything he touched
yet seeing sunlight just the same
is all because of you
i walk within the shadows
am cursed to stroll through city streets
without the angel i once knew
and the children who represent
the sight of redemption incarnate
however, the rebel angel flies
within this devil's thoughts
a claim placed upon his soul
eternal flame; everlasting reminder
of days spent in the mortal sun
melancholy prayers that heaven
will free her wings from bondage
and release her to me again
someday
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Comments: 41
you are absolutely amazing! i could listen to you all night!
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Wow if that is your poetry raw i would feel intimidated to see it well done.Your work is very powerful.I love it
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Hmmm. Its hard for me to believe that you are so demonic, or on the other hand, that anyone can be a perfect angel
Nice work though, I like the perspective. Its an amazing poem.
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Well, perspectives are a bit exaggerated perhaps. We always see the best in others and the worst in ourselves. But thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it.
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I adore your use of alliteration, especially "angels do not talk to demons, dear". Stunning use of imagery too. You can really picture the story behind the words as you read and the lack of punctuation makes it seem very fast paced - perhaps mirroring the situation, the gain then loss of the said angel?
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Quite so. You honed in on that correctly. I didn't backtrack to punctuate because I felt it carried that whirlwind sentiment without the periods, semicolons, etc.
Thank you for your warm comments.
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Well, it obviously worked very well
You're welcome ^_^
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lovely.
i think that hope shouldn't stay in the bottle. i think it should be let out to expand. there's always room for hope, peter. it's got a mind of its own. it's up to you to give it the body to act with.
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You and Denise are of one mind on this matter. 
Thank you, dear Kellsie-Reanne.
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aha, no problem. you know i only live to help.
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Great poem especially since its so raw.Your descriptive use of words had me spellbound.Can't wait to read your other stuff.
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Thank you kindly, sir. I do hope you enjoy.
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Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write for example, 'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to a pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voice. Her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
pablo neruda
You are poignant in your verse. Your depth and ability to make me see and feel ...taste and touch your words. You are an artist.
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Now that poem was poignant. Thank you for sharing it. I think I've found another vice.
These are mostly very impromptu. The overflow of the heart and what not. I'm glad that you enjoyed, just the same.
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Alas, your Angel and mine are being held hostage. And while you know yours, I fear that mine can only observe me from afar, not makeing her known. So this poem kind of touches home, just a little, another decent write, just hope that your chains can be broken and set free upon your heart.
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Thank you, friend.
I wish you all the best of luck in life and love. I believe there exists an angel even for the worst of us. Took me a while, but mine found me just the same.
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But the question poses does the worst of us deserve an angel if they are just going to torment said angel?
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Depends on what you mean by torment.
One thing I have discovered: Love means sacrifice. It is up to the other to determine how much they are willing to sacrifice. You will never know if you do not give them the option to choose. Or expose them to the being they would be choosing.
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I hope my correspondence of late didn't unleash this outpouring of self-rebuke. You were sent angels because you needed and deserved them. Whoever is holding her hostage away from your heart cannot be so indestructible, hmm? This is touching poetry, but no substitute for unleashing your vengeance. Dare I say it? There is another side of you that may be called for now, this time to be used for an even greater good.
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No, no, Denise.
Merely had it in my mind. Self-rebuke? A little. But not entirely undeserved.
I still practice with my sword. Strange, isn't it, after all these years? One never knows when one might need to use it.
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I'd keep it sharp too if I were you.
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Always sharp. A good blade is worth nothing without a sharp edge. I still clean it methodically.
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Preparedness is the better part of triumph.
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Well, from how I see matters, if I am to have trouble sleeping during the day, it should be good for something.
Writing, yes. Plenty of that. But ever since this ring found its way back onto my finger, there has been that implicit calling to stay keen in some regard. The blade has always been a friend of mine.
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So you returned her ring to its proper place, hmm? I suspect somewhere someone else has done the same thing. That little piece of metal may be an even more valuable weapon to you than a blade, my friend.
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I would not be offended if she hasn't returned the favor. I don't know that she can, in her current position. I honestly don't know what all is transpiring where she's at, however I assume acknowledging me in the slightest could prove to be dangerous.
As the pessimist chimes in with. . . That is to say, if she truly cares for me still. She has many reasons to hate me. Perhaps her quixotic ways have finally found their limit.
Mine should have never left my finger. But I was a blind and stupid man for a while.
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You didn't let another man come into her life did you? Someone she feels obligated to stay with for some reason? I will be furious with you if you did.
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I am a stupid man who says stupid things, Denise:
"i'm no good for you," i repeated
intending to convey the message
adequately
intending to convey inadequacy
inadequately
visions of the man I was
inserted within the
monochrome movie of a man
standing there
who couldn't give her the life she deserved
someone else could
Recall those lines? Her response; which, I've not shared with anyone else, not even Robin:
"You bastard. After all of this, you're just going to abandon us? So that somebody else can do what you're supposed to be doing?!"
Amongst other things.
I relive that conversation every. bloody. night. of. my. life.
melancholy daydreams
revisiting those words
speaking them time and time again
reciting diction
exploring intonation
perhaps with the proper inflection
it would all make sense to me
I pray to God she didn't take my advice.
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Oh I do, but I thought you were speaking in theory. I never dreamed there was a real "some else" who "could". I cannot believe you could do that! Bastard isn't an entirely accurate word. Coward might be. Stupid? No. That has never been your problem. But you do think too much, and trust your instincts too little. I understand a lot more than I did now. But I still say she is waiting for you to prove her love for you was not a mistake. The longer it takes, the harder it will be for her to forgive. Still. She loved as deeply as you did, and forgave you much in the past. There is hope, as long as you both exist on this planet. I don't think you need a blade so much as you need to publish this poetry near and far... and be prepared to back up your words with a healthy helping of humble pie. Maybe a big starter plate of remorse too.
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Coward, yes. And my instincts are often not quite so certain. I know what I want, but am often the selfish child wishing his own way. Hard to tell when I am harming somebody merely to satiate my own desires. I felt that's what I did to her. I acted upon my selfish longings and did her the ultimate injury. Afterward, I wondered. . . perhaps she'd be better off without the curse of me.
Much remorse now. Humbling as well. These pants are wearing thin from how much time I spend upon my knees.
How does a master abandon his ward? A husband his wife? A father his children?
Believe me, I am all too aware the folly of my ways.
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"A master abandon his ward"? Another puzzle piece I didn't have before. Is this ward someone who could help you get off your knees and back at their side?
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Speaking of the matters of immortals. I am her guardian as her master. The elders within the vampire convention frown terribly upon a master abandoning such a young sire.
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You really WERE a cad, weren't you? Lucky I and she love you enough to forgive you even this.
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For your graciousness, I am humbled and appreciative.
If she forgives me, then I am the most favored among men.
How I wish to be counted amongst the favored.
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Those who count you there grow daily. She is simply the first and foremost.
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That she is. First and foremost in so many ways.
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"angels do not talk to demons, dear
they do not fraternize with the enemy
much less show them
another side to their psyches
they do not kiss lips
designed to kill
or stir a heartbeat
inside the dead"
nice lines. seems very haphazard but you meant it that way ... right?
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Yes, very stream of consciousness.
Have been playing around with form and free-flowing expression. Was an exercise to that end.
Thank you for reading.
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