NOX

["Komunista Their cities are in ruins. Their martyrs\u2019 blood has been vaporized and their tears have been dried and replaced with dogmatic reason. Their great heroes have perished under the blade of Stalin\u2019s ruthless power grab and brave fighters have been submitted into loyalty by the brute force of fear and intimidation. The calm nature of the Polish countryside has been replaced with the booming of scattered engines and the buzzing of saws hackling wilting trees. The produce which fed generations in surplus has dwindled to grey seedlings, which refuses to grow, leading many to ache in dire hunger and pass away to horrid famine. Desperate, peasants go to their knees pleading with the red army, whose simple sacks hold food enough to feed swaths of villages, yet the demons bred inside the battalions of communist beasts retaliate with penalties and demure torture truly unknown to the Western world. The classic buildings and Orthodox churches have been shattered to make way for the lightless towers and foggy steel mills to feed a tyrant\u2019s insatiable thirst and bloodthirsty desire. His unreciprocated passion to leap ahead and industrialise on par with the West led many to starve in calculated massacres, with unmarked graves slathered in dirt to hide for their cruel deaths in many relentless bloodbaths. They gave up the welfare of the Poles for the glory of growth, ultimately worthless figures when emotions and culture had been erased to make way for vain autocracy. The great arches and avenues of Warsaw became the sharp and shapeless corridors of bricks laid down by those enslaved in Siberia; An ode to the Soviet dynasty which ruled by peril. Their \u2018liberators\u2019 had regressed time back before its conception and had twisted moral fabrics to be in line with the empty propaganda made to worship a godless autocrat.","Only devotion to Marxism was the way to enlightenment. Those unlucky few who praised anything but the regime were locked up and slaughtered for their \u2018heresy\u2019. A language which used to flourish and the many folk songs sung by euphoric Poles seemed to disappear without a trace. Their proud history was turned to shame with distorted truths made to manipulate. A strong people made of grassroot farmers and burly men were turned weak and scrawny as starving children; turning survival into a bitter challenge. Any form of rebellion was shut up before the mind could think of it, as no manner of protest was ever conceivable. Now the tanks of the Fascists have arrived and they have no one to help, no God to pray to, no army to beg to as they were abandoned by the system designed to send them to ruin. Their bodies were crushed by strong rolling tanks without concessions or a chance at peace, as a devious coalition was made so that Poland itself would cease. The white of the snow has been replaced by the red of the soldier, the common man, the farmer and the child; there simply is no limit to which a dictator can be vile. Their promises flowered terribly into wounds that will never heal, as Russia\u2019s socialist oligarchs enjoy off their breakless toil in fields. [April 6th 2022]","Viol\u00e9 A drowsy pass lays on top an expired river; running with a cold boil broiling through its core. The stones poke out its coarse, rough edges; reeking of a stench so foul nostrils melt with a quick whiff of its odour. The knots are loose and wizened, slipping off its strong base as it descends to the rage of paranoid tides. The bridge seems hopeless, orphaned and utterly alone, until the conception of adoration steps on its touch-starved stone. She was a tender gift of any eye\u2019s finest pleasure and the mind\u2019s greatest delight, a fair lady whose cloak was feathered with the beatitude and charity of unforgivable beauty; so immaculate all the planets yearned for her to be their solemn bride. Her skin radiated with the song of feminine magnificence, so gorgeous all the women awed in jealousy with her infallible perfection. With braids so lush they were soft as the clouds skewed from the peaks of heaven and lips so rosy they outdid the cherry peaches to their colour. Skin so cushioned that her bed was soothed with comfort every night and day to her woolly texture. And fine words that bounced out her mint tongue so errorless and wonderfully said, that neither the most eloquent of Paris nor the most enlightened of thinkers could surpass her with her bearing. But the moist red bricks hardened the moment an atrocious drunkard arrived; whose eyes pry on the weak and vulnerable to gratify his infertile desires. He was a vagrant lost in his thoughts of money and hooked to the appeal of the temptress; a fool wounded around the coil of foulness, the monstrosity to which his haggard body is restrained, hackled down to his sallow round figure. His chubby legs were fattened with the grease and plump oils mauled from farms of sheep and ram; feeding till the fences had no more mutton to longer bother. His stringy nose was so clogged and creamy with the scent of rum and whiskey that it looked like the paddle of a stranded canoe. His arms were so obese and jelly they rippled with the brisk of the wind and bones went missing in the maze of flesh that conjoined them. His lips, so coarse and unrefined they made a healthy madam to a deep sickness and turned flush flowers to peril with even a single distant kiss or one of his poisoned smooches. It seems he was divorced from common wisdom and any tangent of sensibility, as carnate lust and primitive thoughts straddled his narrow mind. His heart only greatly esteemed for harlot women and thus lead to prurient fevers that no amount of restraint could ever shield. These two passions met like flames to water on that hazel evening, as dread lingered around waiting to kill and consume.","She was a girl void of the infernal auras which beamed from the girls standing in the idle alleys, waiting to be unfurled like a gift on a cascade Christmas. The rascal raced towards her like the bee to a flower, so thirsty he could not wait. His eyes stretched open and veins were inflated as the joyous rush for such a dolt was one too much to bear. In horror, she was frozen like the permafrost buried in tight snow as he reached for her knees and her heel\u2019s virgin soles. Right there he defiled her dignity and all the preciousness she kept within, and her glistering caricature fell away with her tears that none could hear. There she was abandoned after the rascal work was done; alone on that bridge with the departure of the sun. The moon only mocked her misery, and nature sneered with revulsion at her battered, tarnished state. Planets sought not to impress her darling or appease her happy heart; No more was there awe for her as her innocence had blown apart. There was only judgment and no consoling to her pain, and nowhere for her to release the torment she sustained. And so the snotty bridge was her guardian and helped her perished soul, finally lay peacefully in the river\u2019s cold-blooded boil. There submerged serenely, until she was fully covered and drowned, as that was the only remedy to ease the torment of the drunkard\u2019s shroud. [April 4th 2022]","War-Torn - In this valley of dying souls Where lifeless corpses lay in ordered rows As nameless faces in seas of flesh Is the worst of humanity at its very best; --- Trees are crisped and cities crumple After many reckless foreign blunders. --- Before those days, children played in grassy foliage And farmers toiled in the Syrian ground Finding pure gladness in the rigour of the dirt And a strange enjoyment in the barest of earth. --- The mother was devoted to her heavenly cuisine With joy no man had ever seen And stirred up concussions of savoury rice And hints of relished and exotic spice. --- Her family would gather around eagerly- Knees clamped down and their bodies fully erect","Waiting impatiently to feed on her magic cooking Whilst commending with due respect. --- Men strained by tireless work and papers And consumed with dire irritation Were still content in their poor conditions For they had gratitude in those positions. --- Sadness was given but did not hinder The greatness of Syrians in the Arab winter And still found comfort in the nether sky And stars which danced through clouds of ginger. --- Though peace departed with a hulking bang Soon to consume the lives of man And those ecstatic soon saw their fate That sorely could no longer dare to wait. --- Men equipped with tall and sullen trucks Ransacked and pillaged their tiny towns Waving their black flags and signs of aversion And massacring guiltless crowds. --- They torched down their markets with scalding fires","And slaughtered and tortured all their men And took the women to sordid places And violated them freakishly in their beds. --- Soon \u2018civilized\u2019 powers caught wind of this barbarism- Appalled but not with care for the despairing people, Thus they sent platoons and skilful armies To destroy the jihadists with cataclysmal missiles. --- Bombs scattered and dispersed blasting fire Roasting the skin off the bones of little children As defenceless people were turned to ash and cinder And victims were left to die in vicious winter. --- Artillery fired hastily and without direction Dismembering those praying heartfully for protection And all their culture and ancient heritage Were turned to nothingness by extremist \u2018courageousness\u2019. --- Stranded, many succumbed to their ill affliction Whilst mothers pleaded with agonizing cries Hoping any miracle would help their little babies To attempt to even survive. ---","Yet in all this torment and stark misfortune Rich powers turn their fearsome eyes; Wanting not to interfere and let these men Suffer and untimely die. [April 13th 2022]","Miz\u00e9ria The crescent rock stares at the sea and lowers his head down slowly. His glaring eyes peer round and round with a wrenching look of sorrow. With the denial of man and the sadness at hand, he dreads the dawning of nightfall, As crowds would gather, and declare their slanders, and abhor his idle presence. Those contempt eyes, in his sorry life looked slowly in gloom away, until one day they glared astray and looked far, far away. He focused his eyes far from Earth and sought freedom in the abyss, and with his possessions in hand he departed from the land from which he had always been dismissed. He left some moonlight through the following twilight to soothe people\u2019s basic needs, but gradually this brightness met the sun\u2019s lightness and he finally decided to leave. [April 18th 2022]","Regina I bestow my love to Regina with her gorgeous silky drape, and puppy face and soft pink lips no eye can dare to escape. The enchanting manner she twists her hair and her braids trailing at the back of her head, is like a pleasant dream that follows me even out of my lonely bed. Your cheeks sit there so dainty it makes a man forget day\u2019s sorrow, and your pear eyes roar with prestige and such a tinge of vernal honour. I simply live to glimpse at your aura, to nourish my love-stricken rage, where I become desperate to see you and your almond face. Pearly beads dance down your neck, nestling on your plump chest, whilst your frame shines without a candle, yet its majesty is too much to handle. Your flowers decorate your hair and do wonders to your peachy gaze, as all the men in this kingdom come to look at you amazed. Though your glare stares so toneless, more morose than sad can be, as you seem to be more miserable than the naked eye can see. Due to the loss of ageing and the recession of beauty you prize, you take to wretched anguish and your demoralising cries. Though the seasons hear none of your wailings and your young skin hardens, and continues to wreck you without pause of any attempt of virtuous pardon. Those blossom lips so ample fade away with the onset of winter, and in this loss of perfection your spirit seems to splinter. Years takes their toll and","your stomach starts to protrude, and with the curse of time, you lose the beauty which made you. Those eyes turn charcoal black as your honey braids whiten and pales, leaving boney patches of hair to botch out and frail. Your plump cheeks so peachy start to lose their fruity mass, looking more scrawny and more frightening to look at. The white apparel of your prime has turned stained and mud brown, and now it lies in ruins; struggling in that vile gown. Time flies quickly and my beloved you are no more, as your soft words are replaced with mourning as I miss you to my core. Your allure has been sealed in wood, and your charm has been sown by death, Farewell Carissime Regina, you will always be missed. [April 18th 2022]","Cedo I was not born into this failing planet to grow weak or bow to poverty; to be silenced in the face of tyranny or to be faithful to the terror of humanity. I was given life on this neglected planet above the ranks of raw biology, made strong and firm of heart and proud to be my mother\u2019s progeny. I crave not the tea and niceties, or formalities of the lands, I do not abide by laws written by shrewd and sexist man. I give not into idiocy like the women of this Earth, but instead I yearn the true meaning behind my worldly birth. To question I wish not to be belittled, or to be despised for sophistication; I wish not to be ignored when I bring forth innovation. I do not love to escape from solitude or find solace in a life of submission. Where I am dead in my husband\u2019s authority and freedom is long gone. And my life is made so easy but what life is it withdrawn? A life nulled of any freedom as I make myself his pawn. I wish not be so sobered to violence and the gnash of grotesque fear, and be accustomed to acts of debauchery, so hellish and severe. How shall I applaud to all the cruelty of man? Or celebrate in all the blissless agony built by human hands. Our world is thawed by our species and our lost corrupted touch, which delves the world so critically into decline\u2019s indelible clutch. Calm is simply a bargain this world can never gain, and so the world stays battered by this constant state of drain. Shall a woman not speak about the world and all its problems? For I was not born to weep but attempt to try and solve them; as my mother suffered 9 months for my spot and my time here, and now in this freaky planet I wish to do good with all my years. [April 24th 2022]","Basileus Your throne bows down to no one except the Saviour in the sky, and by his grace and holy presence, you have been made high. Your power exceeds splendidly as your fortunes raiseth the clouds, littering the stars with coins of silver as they twirl and jump around. How the feathered madames flock to you to accompany you with their songs, and gallop and dance without a drop of shame as your attention is such a token. How even the peasant praises your many deeds and can attest to your graceful spirit; even with your status you give the waif a lovely picnic. How your charity is so selfless that all the heavens smile from above, and the angels ally in reverence for your deeds done out of love. How we adore you with great envy for affection to your queen, and how you laugh with her and play around yet listen to her so keen. How you leave your royal duties in extension to be with her, as she is your world and the love of your pious life. My king, though you have cared, we\u2019ve seen your care depart, and run out of the picture; out of the view from your banal heart. Your mouth roars so proudly in a bid to make us subdued, and that tongue that you use to lessen us has drifted to a crippling cruel. Your lips are so eager for rashness that it blurts lazily with every word, so mindless for any meaning that your excellence seems to be blurred. Your queen broken by your sore emotion and remaining on it\u2019s own, is worse than the dungeon\u2019s torture so she leaves the love you\u2019ve sown. Your attention dries up and buries with the onset of ticking time, and those tired eyes did nothing to convince the lust of the madames\u2019 lives. Oh Rex! My truest King, shall we worship your kind works? Or touch more briefly on your outbursts which left us all in dire hurt. Shall ye find comfort in the promise that tomorrow might be less distraught? Or repair all the damage that your trojan heart has brought. [April 24th 2022]","Fairy Fairy, Fairy by the shore As darkness passes show me more; Reveal your magic and your sorcery And all your spells great glossaries --- Fairy, Fairy by the shore Do not leave me like before; Reside with me till sun shall reach Every crevice of this gilded beach --- Fairy, Fairy by the shore Made from Starlight\u2019s richest core Love me little or love me much Simply bless me with your touch --- Fairy, Fairy by the shore In this parallel you maketh war With my heart for I know no name That you behold on this human plain ---","Fairy, Fairy by the shore Let my request be not ignored For dejection reigns without your grace; Without the presence of your crystal face So even when the morning comes Remain with me and be my love For days are futile when you are gone Running against the rising sun.\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e\u200e [May 13th 2022]","Treasure Wherever you search the occasion of treasure forgoes, and departs slowly out of your flabby reach. And falls away to the milk evenings\u2019 sway, like a starfish being robbed from the baying beach. Every step you toe you waste your breath, searching to find the unsearchable. Looking to discover what is not possible; to have hope seems irresponsible. What your eyes have witnessed is the work of delusion, a construct to ease lunacy, to calm the sea of misery so unbearable that you settle into imagination to survive. What treasures you behold are as rich as the winds, whose spoils blow aimlessly with the breeze. There are no treasures for you to uncover; your desperation maketh these treasures for thee. [May 26th 2022]","Joanna Oh Joanna, A sweet Joanna, a girl with freckles down her cherry cheeks, a girl who made her township\u2019s week; a girl loved all who could speak. How she would cheer so passionately in sorrows mettle cloud, and tap her feet lightheartedly to hardship\u2019s severe sounds. She was a perfect child who gave her life entirely to good, for even in her poverty she helped the Earth all she could. The simplest of graces made her girlish soul rejoice, so happy she was you could feel it in her voice. She gleamed so brightly like a roiling fire on a torch, a bright orange flame which provided you with the coziest of warmth. Though the serpent\u2019s hands do not rest at her kind and loving ways; seeking to corrupt and destroy order and lead her to damnation. His gritty fingers brisked her moist and velvet skin, spilling in iniquity and all kinds of other sins. He raised his arms heavily and clawed wickedness into her skull, polluting all the purity her mind had evolved. Her pupils dilated and became filled with shrieking wrath, As her fists became strained and became to ready to create pain. Every home was in danger as her footsteps were thunder\u2019s stomps, and gripped the trees like animals and tore their wood apart. Any man in the odd forest would be shredded down like beef, and savaged like a deer by those iron-bladed teeth. She robbed the child of innocence and oathed their souls to sin, dressing their heads with blood as she sold their innocence thin. Then she\u2019d play around with cauldrons, so tall none could escape, as she boiled their flesh off scorching and let it dry in the neighbouring lake. No remorse entered her conscience, it died before she could think, as she focused more on how many orphans her hands at once could sink. No fear ever bothered her, no man ever approached, as she sliced them open with a dagger and nibbled on their throats. But this morning the sun seemed different, polite and cloaked with class, ready to give to its subjects with its beams and sunny blasts. Yet she felt the pain in sunshine for the first time in her life, and couldn\u2019t bare to feel the warmth of this harmless form of light. Soon lunacy took hold of her, as her darkness was too much, and no spells spell could free her demons\u2019 choking clutch. No magic would ease it, no sorcery would solve, it only deepened her affliction to every ray of floating gold. She gave into helplessness and got on her knees, and the witch was brought to repentance by her unbearable misery. But no one would answer, her evil was too grave; no pardon could be given to fix all the malice","she had made. So she leapt out of her shelter and tied herself down, and let the sun perform its magic like the evils she had done. She roasted without screaming, silent in great ache, and died a peaceful demise in the sun\u2019s boiling wake. [May 28th 2022]","Onore This house has become so grand and palatial, that it has forgotten its own grassroots; sewn by the hands of its zealous creator. Who worked tirelessly throughout the fire of the day and the ice moon of sneering nights. Whose fingers designed a cursed beauty, so gorgeous its bare aesthetic was profane. A place which guarded elegance, whose wine rugs rang to the ends of the ch\u00e2teau, and greeted the most worthy and dashing nobility. Whose sandstone bricks screamed to be heard by affluence and cling onto its allusive aura. With towers which soared over evening clouds and the great fog of wintery mists. A garden with floral appraisals shooting up to the sky, mingling with dancing stars. And meadows which bellowed like the sounds of a sleeping twilight forest. Short-lived would the castle be unbothered, so soon to be crowned with disorder. The bouncing bastilles were quickly seized and its keys buried down in the treasury. Its great gates were silenced by the clogging of its narrow doorways. Its pretty gardens were sprayed by pepper magic and they wilted and withered tither. The creator\u2019s work had been swallowed and returned to be as empty as the nameless mountain it sat on. A decade here, antiqueness there, and a lone wanderer stumbles on its gorge. A discovery which brought light to the neglected shadow of its doors. Now a lady sits peacefully and jots down by the chimney flames, scribbling down the story of how this great palace became. [June 6th 2022]","Seir\u00e1 No man is elated in hierarchy\u2019s demise, a tool sworn to deceive with its promising disguise. A relic of a distant past we still carry to this day, even though many have raised their dismay. Shall it be clumsily abolished like the monarchy of France, or maybe we should amend it for its grim impacts? Or let disorder prevail from man\u2019s feudal aristocracy, free, unshackled in pure, heroic anarchy. And bring down an age of greedy and pampered powers, who gain so greatly in other\u2019s critical hours, but pay no regard to their necessities they ask, and instead enjoy sandy beaches and the soured sun\u2019s bask. Those who find footing are still vulnerable to sporadic shocks, by markets and systems made to feed those on top, and yet people are hopeful for an industry made by thieves, and live off dead dreams with the little pay they may receive. Off of lucrative business, the wealthy\u2019s wallets have stayed rich, when the world has been struggling as their salaries have been ditched; hoarded by the happy tyrants who splendour off our empty pockets, and find themselves addicted to the allure of temporary profits. There is no care for the needy, the desperate and the poor, as charity to the wealthy seems like an unnecessary chore. But instead they seek comfort and places to relax, and where to hide their massive earnings to avoid further tax. There is no hope in hierarchy, abandon it at its height, and let us all fight for our vocational rights! [June 8th 2022]","M\u00f6rder Say \u2018Nein!\u2019 to Hitler with all your strength Or duel with war and impending death And watch your loved ones exit life While war continues in great delight --- Be not an agent of his authority And propel his malefic priorities For massacring Jews, what shall it bring? Shall peril go whilst their suffering? --- Follow not his mindless instincts For common sense is going extinct In times that seems to be paralyzed By gutwrenching killings and genocide --- Why shall ye laugh as Russia crumbles? And Paris waits in Facist shackles; A work of art to be preserved? Or fatally destined to fry and burn ---","Shall being spineless guarantee The peace that Hitler speaks to thee? Where bludgeoned children cry out and weep As their mothers bodies are put to sleep --- If thee shall lead in art\u2019s despair And watch our cultures burn up and flare Then how can you be born with shame? For war to you is just a game --- So now, I ask you take their shoes And be in place of sorry jews Who lived their lives without the fear That one day they could disappear In a single instant by delusioned scum Who do not care for their Jewish glum And only wish for a world anew Rid of people just like Jews; --- Hitler\u2019s neither good or man Therefore stop his wicked hand. [June 19th 2022]","Fortis He was a prince, beloved of a prince, a gentleman with passion to which words do no justice. Whose selflessness was greater than all the gems in sparkling cove or fish in the mammoth sea. Whose tongue spoke words softly like petals fluttering off a cotton flower but roared loudly against repression; how I miss such an honest tongue. He who would let go of authority when he had no matter in it and kept his pride locked up in chains. A sire whose charm would bring direction to the lost and spark hope in the hopeless, who would bring grace without nobility, without excess apparel or springy cloaks, without the silk garnished sleeves or puffy frocks to hide away his royal pain; a great master who faced reality without using his imperial fortunity. A patrician who made fear tremble at its iniquity and righteousness come out of hiding. A thinker so brilliant that knowledge itself had reverted to learning; desperate to find new words to entertain his savvy valour. A nobleman who did not achieve his power through conquest or bloodshed, who did not enjoy festivities in his subjects\u2019 tragedy or splendour in his nemesis catastrophe. A samaritan who did not scoff at those who society discarded, and out of generosity he gave status to those who were left to the misery of the streets and the treachery of the Sicilian rain; abandoned by commoners meant to care for them like their family, but ultimately orphaned by the blindness of greed and the struggle to survive in a backwards society. The prince was truly the breakthrough in an age of recession, the enlightenment to an ageing period of excellence, who made the lands feel brighter without being overshadowed by the sun and made darkness inviting instead of evil\u2019s sheer wrapping. He was someone who made you feel safe when security has been tarnished, when crime is like a second nature and death is rolled around your neck, he relieves you of that torment. He does what the most charitable of men jeer away from in disgust at yet the palace would not do the same for him. Instead, they rebelled against him for his meritable deeds he had done and what he stood for. His modesty in the castle\u2019s vanity made the scene tense like a raging fire, yet no flames erupted but simply the glares and silence could not be cut without a sworded needle. The whisperings of the ladies and the cussing of the dukedom made the thumping of waves and the washing of rivers seem like the peeping of mice who crawled around like the slaves to evil the castle harboured. One fateful night as the noble prince made his way to his eerie chamber, manifestations of wickedness appeared to kill and murder him. A crisp knife made its way down his neck and to his heart until his soul gave up and made homage in heaven. Only his carcass remained as a remnant of validity for such a","robust palace so poor for morality. Even after their feeble cleansing, the elites were still astray from divinity and now forever lost from the touch of sanctity. [July 17th 2022]"]