Dead, Rising

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The dirt is fresh beneath the fingernails
And I cannot deny
I tried to bury them in shallow graves
But they refuse to die
I must have crafted some immortal strains
And grafted in the cells
Of something stronger than the common things
We hold within ourselves

Now it appears my current company
Is not about to leave
And all the feelings that are haunting me
Will not be put to sleep
So, in the doorway of my heart, I halt
Unmoving where I stand
I hear them clawing out to find me
With the shovel in my hand

And maybe I should be ashamed to think
I tried to put them down
But I am fighting for my life tonight
Against the hollow sound
Of all the beauty I believed in once
Before I found it dead
I hear the memories of lovely things
Like zombies in my head

The empty graveyard of my passion aches
With graves I cannot fill
They rise and follow me to bed at night
Despite my pleading will
So I suppose I will not bury them
At least, no more today
For I am far too tired-handed now
To lift this weighted spade

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42 responses to “Dead, Rising

  1. the feeling of resignation is a bitch….I’m feeling weighed down myself, resigning from the pain, if only temp or fake.

    “I hear the memories of lovely things
    Like zombies in my head”

    I can relate to that feeting moments of hope…I hear ya VW. Sorry for the malncholy musings 😦

  2. “I must have crafted some immortal strains
    And grafted in the cells”..yup we all have somewhere and like a shadow now they follow us…one of those days one of those weights.
    beautiful work

  3. “And maybe I should be ashamed to think
    I tried to put them down
    But I am fighting for my life tonight”

    I have felt this way many times.
    Thank you for posting. It helps me feel less alone in fight

  4. Amazing poem – I think most everyone can resonate with this, from some past (or present) time in their lives. It certainly hits a chord! Well written – I do love your style. πŸ™‚

  5. This whole part truly moves me…
    And maybe I should be ashamed to think
    I tried to put them down
    But I am fighting for my life tonight
    Against the hollow sound
    Of all the beauty I believed in once
    Before I found it dead
    I hear the memories of lovely things
    Like zombies in my head
    ah, it’s lesen what I feel now…

  6. Very, very intriguing. And I like your rhyme very much. The image of dirt under fingernails got me a lot. And weighted spade – I liked that a lot.

    A really excellent poem.

  7. I definitely know how that goes. It’s nice to read something that I feel I could have written if only I know how to use the words how you do.

  8. VW,

    I love your work and this poem in particular! What really captures me, is that you ‘do’ dark so well. Your words portray an exquisite description and you give such life to the metaphors. Simply brilliant πŸ™‚

      • Vampires always seem to have that allure and the ability to decorate the deadly in a way that belies the sinister sting of death. If I cannot dispel the curses, I suppose I can at least ornament them and call them “expression”, right? Thank you very much πŸ™‚

    • That is an incredible compliment Scott. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I have never really considered using my writing for anything, as I have no formal training or proper understanding of the art. It sounds like an intriguing ambition though

  9. How ghoulishly told my wickedly fine friend,
    I think that you have been spending too much
    time in my dark world Vampire Weather πŸ™‚
    But with this masterpiece it is not a bad idea
    and I look forward to many more of these fine
    additions to your Space, indeed with quality
    such as this clearly is it will be a feast πŸ™‚

    Androgoth

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