Posts Tagged ‘poem’

She will never Love us Anymore…
Written by Daton L. Fluker
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

Your retardiness loses overtime from my sharpness. Don’t let these Baton Rouge niggas get it twisted. I’m the king of darkness.
Infamous me…
Fear guides the masses.
It’s a magical circumference I had to walk mixed with the ingenuity of my broken heart.
You’d forgive me if you knew my struggle. “Why would I be forgiven?”
Maybe… Who understands how the world works? (more…)

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“If I had a Suicide Letter”

By Horror Novelist, Daton L. Fluker
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

To my beloved Friends:
I touched the panther on its shoulder. At first the cat was quiet and calculative. When I did it again, she ate me alive.
“When will I dream again?”
NEVER.
“How can I pull myself back-up?”
NEVER.
“How can I stand if you are not on my side?”
WITH HIDDEN STRENGTH…
My love, what else would you like me to do? Put a sword through my heart and video tape it?
(more…)

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Dedicated to the lovely Tori Lamour

Tori Lamour Twitter
http://twitter.com/ToriLamour

Home Page
http://www.torilamour.com

The Soulless shall Love Again
Written by Daton L. Fluker

Daton’s Twitter
http://twitter.com/datonflukers

I know it’s real, serious, and that you are extremly beautiful, darker than anything I’ve ever seen.
What do we say to beautiful when the night says that your majesty is dark, lustful, even got damn nasty?
They are tedious. Yes, they are serious. That’s why she looks at you the way she does.
Monsters call us.
My dear, I am not an evil person. Those names you called me hurt. I’m a horror novelist, not an evil worshiper.
But you believe that we are the soulless.
Oh, the things I’d do to her in the dark. I’ve seen her in the light. She’s more than welcome to the pleasure she anticipates.
When angels go to bed she forgets us when we close our forever eyes.
Nightmare women abstract kindness into our affliction. When rain comes, a shadow of hatred puddles over our sweet Earth.
Every minute it changes, breaks, lumps, and bleeds in cracks.
What am I?
I gave you my heart love, not thy tongue. I speak through my flesh. I write through thy bone, not thy fingers.
What am I?
When the sun rises. We dream under Mother Nature’s tall vegetation. She tells us to follow the brightest star. Follow the North Star.
Thy should understand thy wrath of their actions. I speak faithfully. Didn’t my tongue get cut out?
You asked, “why do I write dark words?”
Beautiful women fancy sexual positions with my tongue. I’m a sinner. I’m cursed to be a muse. I am darkness, and I am light.
You are told to see her like this because you worship her that way. You gave her your soul.
Does she hear our sniffles? Tears roll down their tearducts.
We are not afraid to speak our hearts. That’s what makes us human.
If we can’t speak then we sleep in our own hell.
My razor heart stuns with warts. Sequels made with dreams never won parts.
No blood is on my tongue; for the night is unsaid, and we conceive thy soulless love.

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Covenantally written by Daton L. Fluker

Dedicated to Lzzy Hale
and Alecia Beth Moore -Pink

We can’t fully understand civilization. When the shadows call, we come running. When the light calls, we hide in its shadows.
To my beautiful world. We should stand, and not understand. We are, we were, and we will be great.
That’s all I need is Mother Nature. When I see her, all the pain goes away. I’ll die happy. I’ll die with love in my heart.
That’s how dark poetry was created. Silhouettes dance on pink walls. An eyeball is amazed by silent music hailing the shadows.
I don’t know everything; I’m a star. I’m broken. I’m not beautiful. But, I know my words can make tears fall down your lovely tear-ducts.
I can play with you my dear. I love beautiful. And I adore ugly. I can love all.
And I will be, even if you don’t believe I am.
God’s Darkness told me that you will love me. That’s why I am.
I will only except more. I’ll never except less! MOIETITY I’ll never except you. You S.O.B! Never!
My nightmare tantrum, “who will stop me?” Me.
“Who will break me?” Me.
“Who will keep me full of energy and passion?” My dear friend, you.
Tears bleed through my heart. Isn’t intelligence given by time, and not by birth? What if a dog doesn’t bow anymore, is it still a dog?
Hatred guides us to glaciers when dark clouds loses their medium of fire. Who cares about bivalence when our soul flies when we’re free?
I told you that you’re beautiful. But, her wrist shatters when her arm breaks the coffee table because of her nightmare sneezes. Her dark hour.
I’ll eat your cookie out baby-doll. Who changes sexual favors given freely for love? As her wrist shatters, my heart breaks.
I dance on the edge. I’m sorry my chest burns with holes. They bleed with sorrow. Who can love me? Who understands my poetic tongue?
I’ve defeated myself because I’ll bow down to her; I will. So the dog is not a dog when it stops bowing its head; it’s haunting the haunted.
Her kisses curve my head. Painted on shelves and burning in fireplaces her touch mildews. She said, “ignore me and when you do see this you’ll cry hard.”
I’m not a poet – “Ha, ha, ha.” I’m just a man. We drew silhouettes on our skin in the darkness. We drank like fish and we made dirty lustful love.
I wanted you to see me naked and on hard. I shall kiss you under jet streams. My words did not speak to you fool. My heart did.
She left me riding on a rocket. Nightmare creatures dance filthy in their borrows as a muse stays hidden in his cave until his dark hour.
Covenantally.

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Discovering our dreams is the last quest left for us.
The light of our soul shines brightly when we think about the lost stories that no one has created yet.  These stories may never be put into play.  Everyone has a story to tell.  However, I am telling my story.  Even if you are not listening. 
The forgotten energy tattle tells whispers of hope in our ears.  I promise to myself that I will not let my dreams be wasted into nothingness.  I hope the universe is listening to my roar.  I hope the universe grips the beats of my heart, and the letters of terror that flow from my finger tips, as tightly as it can.  I’m coming… I might get many let downs.  However, in the process, I will get many smiles, and meet many good people.  You might not believe in them, but I believe my nightmares are a gift from heaven.  So you can call me nightmare man.  Remember to look for the man holding the flickering light bulb when you are scared, searching for the keeper’s gate in the blackness.  It will be me.  I will bring you where you belong.  I will take you home.

Sincerely,
Author, Daton L. Fluker
http://facebook.com/datonlfluker