• Desmotti
  • The wraith is but sadness in mortal form. It haunts to hunt, and hunts to feed. It cannot feed on any emotion. This is its pain. for emotion is not segregated it is fealt, and to feel is warmth.


The oculus, or better so aperture, of sinners, dark and fallen, hidden.
They find the feet of those who notice, burning with detest, and anger driven.
Scorched within and kindled relentless, with every...remembering, there's no more counting.
The food gives life to monstrousness, atrocity.
Degradation must eat at something.
Woe to callous miscreation, we are all but fallen fiend.
A shade of naught but anathema...woe is how they've come to label.
Man In life he thinks to master becomes a slave to all his decree. 
Forced to obey his spouting feculence...all this his Kingdom...a Devils dream. 
See you here, it lies within me.
The Lord of foul has taken residence.
The furies scream and applaud convulsion, gnashing from laws quaint retribution.
Idiosyncratic, iniquity?-
I tire of constant profligate action.  To recalculate a moment longer, question, feel, regard, retraction?
I lift mine hollows to meet the eyes so lofty in their arrogance.
This Worm whose eyes see me as pitied?
Worm and Carcass...My swift blade slits the throat to silence charity.
Portals cold, his windows glass...he barely knew to care, and died.
I move along ashamed again of being I was wronged.

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winterkou commented on Mef-uh-stof-uh-leez


Don't really understand the whole title, but very deep and full of big words.

HopeOhlarik commented on Mef-uh-stof-uh-leez


Nice poem, deep as they always are....keep it up!

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

Desmotti’s Poems (25)