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Wednesday, 27 May 2009


Tearing off the flesh to find,
a hidden beauty lurks inside.
Finding peace in my natural state
won't let my skeleton go to waste.
Your laws of beauty cost their lives
reason dies but aesthetics survive.
You call it fashion I call it crime
if this looks good,
then the world is blind.
How many tears to wash away
the stains I wear from yesterday?
I hunger after one throbbing desire
a phantom body draped in attire.
Your laws of beauty cost their lives,
reason dies but aesthetics survive
How many days 'til you erase
the very bodies
that shot them to fame?

© 2009 Florence Challender

Sunday, 3 May 2009


Crimson is seeping into her cheeks,
her crown of flames licks at her face.
She watches the siren, she aches "How she
speaks with such ease, how men fall at her feet
her moves are hypnotic, but her smile speaks of sin
and he's mine!"
Her topaz eyes flicker, dissolve into lime
she can taste the bitterness in her words
as she contemplates the crime
she can feel the hot, red rapids hurtling through her veins
Choking on her eagerness to spit her acidic words
reeling as her nerves are racked, her spine shakes
Her predatory string goes with a snap, "How I
slink with such ease, how prey fall at my feet
my eyes are hypnotic, my lips tingle with sin
and he's mine!"
She marks Cupid's demise as the arrow strikes
with a skillful slice through the air,
to lacerate the flesh of the unsuspecting target
and bring her to a sanguine end
As the room fills with hushed words of the carmine
she looks at the lifeless corpse
and a single blistering tear falls from her eye

© 2009 Florence Challender


Sunlight dances on her ivory skin,
so smooth and cool to the touch
hair so thick and wavy,
a crown in all its glory.
Eyes so perfectly shaped
the gleam that never leaves them,
a body weaving in and out
one he can truly hold onto.
Limbs so long,
lips so strong
pursed, they ache to sing.
Features sculpted without fault
beauty immune to fading
grace which withstands
the gusts that glide over
the gold crested leaves.
She's an angel,
he can see her outstretched wings
stood beneath the shedding trees.
"It's such a shame," he thinks,
"that I fell in love with one
which cannot fall as well."

How she longs to reach out,
crack the case that is her grave
embrace the lust which calls from her
rusty vessels,
and feel a fire that knows no bounds.
Lull him with soothing words,
which will tumble from the carved mouth
that teases her.
Stroke the auburn hair which bounces
so freely,
gaze into the emerald eyes which shine
so readily,
and touch the flesh that wears the scars
of life.
"Alas!" she cries,
"what is my beauty if it
can't win me a man?
I'm locked in a mere existence,
a standstill stance."

© 2009 Florence Challender


Each pair of apathetic eyes is a slash to the soul,
nothing stirs inside these stone hearted statues
but another hit and this boy's spirit is slain
a victim of everything, whose efforts are in vain.
They make a mockery of him,
their mouths are spitting fire
he tries to reason, they won't relent
for evil doesn't tire.
As he lies upon the ground
with seeping wounds and weeping eyes
he longs to protest, to bring fury and flame
his rage is soft, a mere creeping cry
but he feels a torrent of anger gradually arise.
This emotion is destructive, if he could harness
its might and its power..
the audience will not leave this show unscathed,
their terrible taunting has left him enraged.
He brought a storm which tore through the night
corrosive acids which fall from the heavens,
a ravenous wolf and a venomous viper
children led to their death by the devil's piper.
He makes a mockery of them,
his sky is spitting fire
they try to reason, he won't relent
for justice doesn't tire.

© 2009 Florence Challender

10 (Invidia)

Oh envy, your dissatisfaction chokes me alive
I covet for that which does not exist
for true love and ultimate truth
and a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar world.
The object of my desire is the apple of anothers' eye
but in a world of idealistic expectations
surely I am not to blame for my malcontentment?
It's not a case of great ungratefulness
which blights this barren life,
for I am an inadequate being
and not only in their eyes.

© 2009 Florence Challender


I have memories which drift among the debris,
and painful realisations I cannot shift
I have guilt pangs which cause so much nocturnal
I have regrets which eat up every accomplishment,
I have wistful fancies that keep me blindly optimistic
and a realist that keeps me not grounded,
but underground.
I have terms I'm reluctant to come to
and dreams which have morphed into delusions,
that I like to escape into..
I have wars I could win with an axe through one eye
and wars I lost before the other side even tried.
I have nagging doubts which choose to resurface
and hatred that runs so deep
my wrath whimpers to be unleashed,
I'm in pursuit of vengeance
and Thor is no match for my thunder..

© 2009 Florence Challender


Oh bleeding heart,
each droplet of love wasted
stupidly frivolous was I.
I lie in this filth
I whisper to the wind,
of love and loss and loneliness.
I crumple into the earth,
a bed I share with no man
a forgotten soul bound to the soil.
My descent into the ground
my tears as they cascade down
marked by this tender flower.
A representation of my bleeding, seething heart
it pushes its head through the dust and the ash
poised towards the sunlight,
it sways in the wind
whispers perhaps?
Of love and loss and loneliness.
It is no longer worn upon my sleeve
but in all its frangibility,
it is just as easily torn..

© 2009 Florence Challender

7 (Persephone)

This blessed fruit
that binds us together,
each seed which leads
me into your embrace.
Heaven and the underworld intertwined,
months of melancholia as I pined
I no longer mourn
during my midwinter,
when the first snowdrop
peeps its head prematurely.
I have been reunited
with my love..
in darkness,
I rejoice.

© 2009 Florence Challender


It's less of the furnace
more of the fire
it's less of the casket,
more of the liar.
It's less of the poison
more of the drink
it's less of the torture,
but you're made to think.
It's less of the snake pit
more of the black hole
it's less of the cage,
but you still have no control.
It's less of the eternal
but it drags on nonetheless
it's none of the answers,
they're still left unguessed.
It's less of the freezing water
but tears are free to fall..
it's less of the wrathful,
more of common brawl.
It's less of the crimson
more of the bleakness
it's less of the sin,
more of the weakness.

© 2009 Florence Challender


Winding path I walk
familiar and paved with mistakes.
Shadows form at my feet
I denounce the whistling winds,
rippling waters
pallid skies
On my quest to find heaven,
on my quest to conquer hell
contemplating the meaning behind
this seemingly pointless stretch of time.
There must be a prize, a compensation perhaps?
for trawling through, for endurance
Little do we know,
heaven only lies in the eyes of the satisfied
and hell is the inquisitive, demanding nature
the human nature,
deep rooted within us all.

© 2009 Florence Challender


Vague shadow,
echo of a glimmer
the frailty of your shimmer.
Rests beneath my weary heart
penetrates it like a heavy dart
unwelcome reminder,
buried memory reviver
strife and sorrow provider..
Will you not leave me alone?

© 2009 Florence Challender


The truth is circulating but she refuses to believe,
the anguish she will conquer, but she will not grieve
hangs onto her denial in desperation
contorts what she knows in her heart in exasperation.
Her love is gone,
"But not for long"
she cries,
the sky replies.

© 2009 Florence Challender

2 (Luxuria)

Raging lust tearing through my bones,
gushing in my veins and drumming in my head
tingling in my fingers and blazing in my eyes,
occupying my mind.
These aren't butterflies but bats..
the longing which refuses to subside
it's clawing at me, the silent screams are
seeping out and I surrender to this love.
I am too fragile to keep away, too jaded to try
this torture is my lifeline, this curse is my sin.
My sin is wanting you, needing you, loving you
feel it coiling around me, squeezing tighter
only you can release me from my chains
only I can release you..

© 2009 Florence Challender

1 (The Rose)

Her lustrous charcoal hair falls thick around her shoulders,
her skin like marble as he traces her profile and she looks
to the moon laughing, laughing..
her skirt flowing, her smile so full of life, so alluring
and he presses a single black rose into her hand,
and its single dew drop sparkles in the starlight
and it reminds him of her.
But it is a parting gift for he must go, for he can feel
it sapping him of his strength but she mustn't know.
He cannot bear to bring her bleakness
and he sees his aggressive consumer as a weakness.
She does not know that he is leaving, he bids goodbye
but she's not grieving, she doesn't know.
She's left waiting, waiting..
the rose is wilting, wilting..
But her lustrous charcoal hair falls thick around her shoulders,
her skin like marble as she traces her profile and she looks
to the moon weeping, weeping..
her skirt flowing, her eyes so full of anguish, so alluring
and she strokes the withering black rose in her hand,
and its single dew drop sparkles in the starlight
and it reminds her of him.

© 2009 Florence Challender

Here are some other sites(not mine) you may like to visit:
Gothic - A deep and varied portal dedicate to the dark life of the gothic subculture, fashion, music, dating, poems, tourism, culture and poems.