Got Poems?

Anyone got some bad ass poems they want to share?
Here are a few of mine:

Eternal Black

I call my screams, I hark nothing back
I stare to the ends of sanity, there is only eternal black.
I gripe and gnash my teeth to dust
My face is stained by everlasting lust
To have anything to grasp, for nothing strives
The only thing that is, is twisted lives
Their souls flowing on the breath of frosty lies,
Of power and riches in a prior life
But they were stabbed in the back, with a cruel bloody knife.

This is the realm of Sheol

This is never going to end,
No end, no beginning, no sanity
The loop never completes
This is the place where reality and horror meets.
Here is the place, of the corrupted angels,
Their once glorious selves, now twisted and mangled.

This is the realm of Sheol

Pure emptiness and void corruption fills the lairs
Of this hellish kingdom's halls
For at the end of its crimson spires
Sits the prince of hate
On his throne he snickers
For only he can pass the gate

For you, it's now too late

The Forest Old

I walk through the forest, trees of ages old.
Under it boughs I tread, and through it's vines I push, A path it is I mold.
Just like a book to be read, hiding its tales on the coming lines. I cannot tell what lies ahead, just beyond the vines.

O ancient wood. What do you keep you forest of old?
The bones of many who were courageous and bold?
I wonder about you, you forest of the ages past.
You secrets O will surely last.

O ancient wood, What did you say old willows and pine?
You whisper between yourselves as the wind passes thine.
With all you gossip, and talking about. You must get up from you slumber, and walk around no doubt! but no, not while I'm here, you sleep and mutter silently from ear to ear.

O ancient wood, What secrets do you tell, on these old beaten and weathered stones? The stress of the hands of time, make the foundations groan. Was this once a mighty castle of elves? Or a breed of trolls and such? Now all that gives me clues of life, are the delves of rubble and dust.

O ancient wood, what do you tell?
What is it that breeds within, And sleeps inside the Dell?
Creatures of old Legends and Fables maybe?
Suddenly, the reeds of the murky pond sway, hiding the beast below.
But surely O old forest, you have nothing more to show?

But now, my friends, I must go.
For home is calling and night is falling under the dark clouds.
I will visit you later, my old friends, and continue my explore.
For who knows what I will find amoung in your ancient mysteries and lore?

So share yours